[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Hanging Around [Closed]

[Knock Out]

Episode 3.5 | Week 1 | Day 4
Afternoon
-

It'd been a long few…

Um. How long had it been again?

Days? A week? Longer than that? It felt like an eternity - and with no windows nor ways to gauge any sort of time passing, Knock Out had completely lost track of everything. All he knew was this depressing, dreary room, the HUD error that blipped occasionally – not that he could do much about that – and the scuffs and scratches in the floor that he'd familiarized himself with as he hung upside down at the mercy of the Autobots.

It didn't help that he was hungry.

Bumblebee had stopped by at some point in the void of however-long-it'd-been with an offer of Energon. He was a sight for sore optics, though hadn't said a beepy word the entire time.

It'd been very unbecoming on him, now that he thought back on it. He'd begged – pleaded almost – to be let down and returned to his comfy little cell, hoping to appeal to the fact the yellow squeaker was one of the nice ones.

But it hadn't worked. 

Of course it hadn't worked, and amidst his scrambled whines of protest he had stubbornly, or rather stupidly at least, refused the Energon he'd been so kindly gifted.

A mistake, it seemed, as the Scout had then taken the time before he left to place it oh, so gently on the floor, before sliding it toward him carefully with one pede. Tantalizing close and yet so agonizingly far and out of reach, and no amount of twisting or attempting to reach down would change it.

Since then, it'd been nothing but him and a crushing silence that ate away at his psyche more than he'd realized. No more visitors came, and with their absence, no more offers of Energon. He'd cried out a few times, and squirmed in vain against the metal bar that held him stuck - but to no avail.

Recharge, though, had come a few times, as brief as it was. Hard to get any sort of rest while hanging upside down, after all. No sooner did he slip away into some sort of unconsciousness, he jolted awake with a start as his frame remembered just where he was and just how exactly he was positioned.

This was torture, and it hadn't taken him long to realize he'd brought it all on himself.

At least they hadn't come to gloat, he supposed, though even that would be welcomed as some sort of interaction with another soul. Being alone, forgotten… it was crushing.

Ah, but with their neglect, it seemed they hadn't quite realized that the door to the room hadn't been closed properly by Bumblebee. Not that he could do much about it from where he currently was - but should he manage to get down? It'd be one less step in the process of escape.

Stuck dangling, he did the only thing he could to pass the time – not that that meant anything to him at this point – and found himself recounting, for the fifth time, the numerous scratches on the floor.

[Unit 74]

Omega was huge. Down the halls a lone floor scrubber rolled its way along, non-reflective finish doing a fine job of posing as the delicate earth constructed machine it mimicked. Not so intune with his disguise was that the obvious sign that it was meant to be manned, if the controls and steering handle were anything to go by. Hiding, however, wasn’t his goal. Ever since morning refuel, he had been exploring.

This unit will know our new base, and find every place that needs to be cleaned.

The reminder wasn’t necessary, but Seventy-four was so pleased to be with his friends again. There had been no cleaning while he hid in the human’s medic building, not really. He didn’t plug into the wall like the real earth scrubbers, and … the humans would have noticed him going out himself if he didn’t hide.

First he will clean the big Autobot symbol, so all his friends will feel welcome.

Hugging the corner of the hall with a precision that mirrored one of the automated Roombas humans had, the Minicon instinctively kept to the walls while, out of the way. It was a treat when he came the door that was supposed to keep the Autobots' 'guest' separate from the rest of the outpost, not because he thought there was something exciting on the other side (aside from a new room to clean). No, the best part was that he wouldn't have to climb to get the door open.

Unit 74 loves to climb, but he will learn the base faster now!

If it was needed, careful pressure would encourage enough clearance, and through a barely open door came the little Autobot. Occupied with the task at hand, he entered making it in at least a full stride (by standard grounder scale) before realizing that something was wrong, or rather someone was wrong.

Stopping completely, there was a pause before the parts of his frame rearranged, the whir of transformation quiet and as unbothered as the calm return to altmode. Hardly half the size of a standard two-wheeler, Unit 74 was shorter yet, everything falling into place to reveal that he rested on his full pede, despite his usual digitigrade stance. It was easier to look up at the ‘wrong’ in the room.

From behind a clear optic shield, he stared up at the red Cybertronian suspended far overhead. Helm tipping slowly to the side, the wide eyed blue held no fear of the other mech, or even the alarming situation he was in, as it didn’t register that either might mean danger (or that he shouldn't be there).

“Our friend is damaged!” What else could the Cybertronian be, besides a friend, and one that needed help?

When he finds damaged mecha, this unit is with Caliber or Trencher. His biggest friends could help…

The problem was he hadn’t seen either of them in a long time.

“Don’t worry, Unit 74 will get… someone.”

Is our friend Blades big enough? Could he reach?

His processor struggled to come up with a solution quickly. Even though most Cybertronians were massive compared to the Minicon, he discerned the differences among them. None of the mecha he had met seemed like they would be able to get the mech down.

[Knock Out]

In his quiet solitude, Knock Out had come to recognize the various noises of his newfound prison - so few and far between as they were. The minute click before the air conditioning kicked on, the gently hum-like whir as cool air drifted through the vent at the far side of the room. It never switched on for very long, a few minutes at most, before another click as it turned off.

There were other noises, too, though these were more infrequent - a clunk or gentle bang of some pipe somewhere, and even if he couldn't see them he could sometimes feel it through the wall - no doubt helped by the metal spear impaled through his leg acting as a sort of conduit.

Other than that? It was him. Alone, hanging silently with nothing but his thoughts for company, longing for some kind of conversation with anyone who'd listen.

So when he heard a new noise in movement coming from the open door, his attention was quick to snap in that direction. It didn't sound like footsteps – actually, come to think of it he couldn't quite place the noise it belonged to at all – and he watched almost incredulously as some sort of tiny cleaning machine moved into view.

Almost as if he was stunned into momentary silence, he watched as it then transformed.

Oh great, now I'm hallucinating minicons… he refrained from speaking this thought aloud, keeping his optics on the newcomer, trying to work out just what exactly was going on.

He was fairly sleep-deprived, and the lack of Energon in days was doing absolutely nothing for his psyche. At least he didn't have to move much, he supposed, and so conserving energy hadn't been a problem-

Huh, now it was talking to him.

"Wait! Wait wait! No need to get anyone!"

The fact the tiny mech had referred to him as friend was puzzling, almost as if he hadn't been filled in as to just what was going on here - and while he fully planned to use this to his advantage if he could, for now, he was just happy to have someone to talk to, even if this may just be some weird interrogation attempt.

"What's your name?"

[Unit 74]

He was ready to move, to rush off and get help for his new friend, but Knock Out’s voice stopped him. His tilted helm canted back the other way, as he met the upside-down mech’s gaze. He seemed calm for someone who was so ‘wrong’ and had damage. 

“This unit? His designation is Seventy-four.” There was hesitation, not because he didn’t trust him. Why wouldn't he? But, the sudden change from worrying about the injured Cybertronian to just talking disoriented the Minicon, who was still focused on the situation. Searching, his gaze was drawn upward, looking for the reason the other mech hung so high off the ground. He never thought to hide his reaction when he spotted the twisted metal sticking out of the speared limb, wincing at the sight.

“....Does our… new friend have a designation?” That was what he was supposed to ask, and It was good to be friendly, but his unsure tone lingered. How could he be happy while his friend suffered? Anxious, he considered briefly if he should go for help anyway, but something in his processor was telling him he should only think about being a good cleaning unit. He didn't need to question what his betters said. But, what he saw was a Cybertronian who needed help! Wasn't that more important? What if, they decided he was he was defective!

Big mecha can’t be defective! Our friend won't be returned!

Did he really know that for sure?

Caliber has said before, it is only an injury.  The medics will make him better.  

He was letting the mech's refusal of aid, and not knowing how bad it was get him worked up  for no reason. 

Optics returned to Knock Out’s faceplate, and the something in his helm clashed harder with his thoughts. Good cleaning units weren’t afraid, and they didn’t question what the masters told them. But, with a suspended frame above him, it wasn’t so easy to override those pesky disobedient impulses. Bringing his servos in front of him, the Minicon lightly clicked his claws together worried for the mech he didn’t realize was an ‘enemy’.

“Unit 74… could find a medic? Doesn’t it hurt?.” Humble, he did the only thing he could and sought permission. The red mech had told him to wait, so that meant he didn’t want Unit 74 to leave. Even though he asked nicely, and gave the Minicon a choice, it was clear what he wanted him to choose. On the other servo, wouldn’t Blades be upset if a Bot was hurt and he didn’t know about it? 

Sometimes... it was easier when there was a master.

[Knock Out]

"Seventy-Four?"

That was a weird name. Was this the Autobot equivalent of a Vehicon, he wondered - some tiny little drone they forced to clean the base? That was what the minicon had been before he'd shifted and began talking, after all.

Though he hadn't seen any others like him.

He still wasn't sure if this was real or not, but would play along regardless - conversation was conversation, and just because it was with some weird little minicon didn't make it any less fulfilling after the crippling void of silence the past few… however long it'd been.

The hesitance as the tiny mech asked a question of him was noted, and he wondered if Seventy-Four was even supposed to be here at all. It was probably a weird situation to walk in on, though the fact nobody had rushed in here to stop him – assuming the room was being monitored as he expected – was strange indeed.

Maybe this wasn't real.

"Me? I'm Knock Out, nice to meet you Seventy-Four!" charming as ever, both servos would raise instinctively in an attempt to splay long digits proudly across his chassis - a mannerism he didn't realize he even did half the time, until of course he couldn't due to the shackles on his wrists.

Then, an offer. One that was curious indeed. From what he could gather from his lovely conversations here at the Autobot Outpost, the enemy faction didn't have any medics left. Ratchet had something happen to him, and Patch – whoever that was – was missing.

Then again, they'd taken Carbine somewhere after his little seizure - so maybe there were others. But on the other side of that coin, it seemed as if the idiot helicopter mech hadn't had any sort of medical care in a long time.

The whole thing was confusing indeed.

"A-a medic?" unless the medic was as tall as Optimus and half as strong? They wouldn't be able to do much for him. Numb the area around his leg, perhaps - but there was no way he'd be moved from the beam.

He had a feeling that this conversation shouldn't be happening, and drawing attention to the fact the minicon was here by getting some sort of help from another would only plunge him further into solitude.

"No, I'm good - thank you though. It's really not as bad as it looks, honest!"

That much was at least partly true, and he managed a smile, if only for good measure. Despite the fact it was annoyingly awkward, and no doubt looked rather horrific, Optimus had done him a kindness - and while there was pain, it was minimal unless he actively tried to move.

"Just out of curiosity, who are the medics here? I haven't seen anyone since I arrived aside from Bumblebee, he dropped that Energon off and left." a half gesture was given to the small Energon cube in front of him. He wasn't about to name drop the others he'd spoken to, just on the off chance the tiny mech pieced things together and got the heck out of dodge.

It was also a test. Still unsure if this was reality, still unsure if the minicon was part of the interrogation attempts - he wanted to see just what, if anything, the other mech knew of the situation.

"Actually on that note, I don't even know where exactly I am - well, aside from upside down!"

[Unit 74]

Knock Out’s calm, pleasant voice helped to put Seventy-four at ease. Anxious fidgeting tapered off as he continued to talk, confirming that everything was alright. He even said it wasn’t bad! It did look bad, but the red mech would surely know better than a cleaning unit.

“We are also happy to meet Knock Out!” Encouraged, he finally rose to stand on the ends of his pedes, a little smile returned the hanging Cybertronian's way. “He has nice vocals.” Though it was a compliment, the Minicon was simply expressing his observation. He was pleasant because he liked his friend.

“... If it gets bad, let this unit know, and he will get help.” The worry was gone, as he took the Decepticon at his word. Of course, he didn’t realize Knock Out was a Decepticon; he didn’t have either picture that told him which friends he belonged with.

“Oh, Unit 74 was found just before recharge, he has met only a few mecha, but his friend Blades was found!” That he knew Bumblebee was exciting. Everyone should; he was so nice, but the red mech would know that, since he brought him energon.

It was the energon; hower, that caught the Minicon’s attention and held it. Lowering slowly to his full pede, the mech’s optic ridges scrunched.

Doesn’t Knock Out want to refuel? He hasn’t had any of his energon.

Optics returning to the mech, he gave the other a look over, which brought him to his shoulders, then down his arms to the clawed servos. This time he did hop a little, as he shot back up to his proper height.

“Our friend can’t reach his fuel!” He didn’t know numbers or calculations, but the same part of his processor that tracked the layout of his home (where he was to clean) understood distance in its way. He could tell if the other reached out to cube, his arms wouldn't be long enough. This was terrible, and an obvious mistake. Bumblebee must not have realized that it was too far.

“Seventy-four will help!... If Knock Out would like his fuel now.” The Minicon hadn’t failed to notice that there wasn’t anywhere to place the cube within his reach; which was probably what led to the mistake in the first place.

[Knock Out]

Watching the little minicon with an almost scrutinous gaze, Knock Out wondered - if only for a moment - if the tiny guy would be able to reach all the way up to the point he'd be able to assist in freeing him.

Probably not. Optimus had done a damn good job of pinning him to the wall - and due to the Prime's size, it meant he was an awkward ways up as well. It was a good thing he wasn't too scared of heights, though the dangling upside-down by his leg part was certainly getting old.

The only other mech who'd visited him had been Bumblebee, and if he couldn't get into the kid's processor with his pathetic pleas, there probably wasn't much hope for anyone else taking pity. This guy? Sure. But he unfortunately lacked the height and strength to do much of anything.

Except talk, of course - and Knock Out certainly knew how to do that.

“... If it gets bad, let this unit know, and he will get help.”

"I will, thank you. For right now, I'm fine though - promise."

He wasn't fine, not at all. He missed Blackridge Hold and it's dusty, cramped corridors. Missed Breakdown. Missed Flatline. Missed being able to simply move around. Yet despite this, his voice was calm and paired with a smile - remaining friendly, if only to stay on the minicon's good side.

They were friends now, after all.

He took note of how the other mech seemed to avoid the question about where they were - and also the inquiry about medics. Smart, he supposed. Though perhaps this Blades person was one, even if it wasn't specifically said.

"Blades? He sounds nice. I take it you haven't been on Earth long, then? It's a beautiful planet - for the most part!"

Quirking a brow as the minicon lowered himself and seemed to be looking him over. He felt weirdly exposed. Normally one to relish in any attention he could get, dangling here like this was so unbecoming, and even if he didn't normally care for minicon's or drones and what they had to say? It felt like he was being analyzed.

Ah, but the reason for this became apparent a moment later, and at the worried words, Knock Out's gaze shifted down to the cube of Energon that he'd been trying to ignore.

"Oh, yes- Bumblebee put it there, probably assuming I could reach it on my own, but…"

A half-attempt was made at stretching out toward it, in an attempt to demonstrate without wanting to move too much. It was quickly evident that there was no way he could reach it, and he shook his helm.

"I'd appreciate the help, though. Thank you."

He was hungry - and being alone with nothing but his thoughts had been an agonizing, drawn-out reminder of this fact. Even if he got nothing from this tiny minicon except assistance in eating? Well, at this point he'd take it.

[Unit 74]

He could help! Knock Out wanted to refuel, and the cleaning unit was sure that it wouldn’t be difficult to lend his new friend a servo. Seeing him stretch and come up short only confirmed the importance of his task. It wasn't just being nice, he was needed. Wasting no time, he closed the distance between them, optics on the cube. Concern that he might be within the dangling mech's reach was completely absent as he focused on his task.

“He is! When Knock Out is ready, he will fix you. “ He hadn’t missed the suspended mech’s words, continuing their conversation pleasantly. Giving the cube a gentle jostle, Seventy-four tested its weight. He’d had plenty of encounters with ‘standard’ sized rations, but he wasn’t usually the one moving them. Even a ‘small’ cube to the average grounder was massive to a human sized Minicon.

“Seventy-four doesn't know how long he's been on Earth… He was hiding in the human medic building, before he was found. ” A moment of reflection had him pause, faceplates scrunching at the closest glossy side. He fixated on the blue that reflected from its surface, before he lowered himself to his full pede again. Lifting his gaze up to Knock Out’s, there was a moment of greater clarity, as he looked for answers from someone who should obviously know better than him.

“We are unsure but, this unit thinks…synchronization of his chronometer and his higher processor was compromised because of the darkness, and being alone?” There was no reason to be upset, not while he was with his friends. At least, there shouldn’t have been, but awareness of his own words caught up with the scrubber.

"Our friend Knock Out, won't tell that Seventy-four thinks this? We promise, this unit isn’t 'defective.'" His volume dipped low, the last word hushed as he waited. A stillness settled over his frame, just long enough for the little mech to decide that nothing bad had happened, so they were alright.

Whatever the other mech might say, he couldn’t forget he had a job to do. Optics returning to the cube, his impulse to look up at the dangling mech wasn’t the only reason he had lowered Spreading his arms wide, Unit 74 took hold of the cube from the sides, roughly three-fourths of the way down. Little claws clinked in thought against sides that were too smooth for them to hook into. Thankfully, he was equipped with a backup. Servos sticking to the cube, the Minicon slowly stood to his proper height, before lifting it over his head. A couple steps back were used to better center his weight to avoid losing his balance, until he extended further, stretching as far as he could.

[Knock Out]

He will fix you.

Those four words stood out to Knock Out in an instant, and he momentarily thought back on all the fun-filled interactions he'd had here thus far. The Autobots hadn't had much luck with their medics as of late, that much he knew. Ratchet was… how did Carbine phrase it again? 'Brain-bricked', and Patch had gone missing - with all blame for the latter aimed toward the Decepticons.

But they had another among their ranks, it seemed, in a mech called Blades. Carbine had mentioned something about secondhand medics, was that who he was talking about? He'd also said they were down both medics - meaning a new arrival, perhaps? How fortunate. It was an interesting name for someone in the field, but then again - Knock Out and Flatline didn't exactly fill one's processor with warm fuzzy feelings, he was sure.

At least he looked good, unlike the rather off-putting black and red mech who had no doubt taken his place back at Blackridge Hold.

Primus, he missed him.

Ah, but he couldn't dwell on that - and upon realizing he hadn't replied yet, a quiet, awkward hum sounded in his throat. He did not want to be rude to the minicon, after all this was the first conversation he'd had in a long time.

"I'd like that." he smiled the words genuine and heartfelt enough that it probably explained the slight delay in his response. "I'm a medic myself, you know - I did offer to fix both Prowl and Optimus, though I see now why they opted against it. You're all clearly in good hands."

Were they, though? That remained to be seen. Carbine had had a pretty nasty seizure back in the brig, and the morons who'd stepped in to help had probably made things a million times worse with how they'd handled it. It'd be interesting to see what state the helicopter mech would be in later - that was if he was ever allowed down from the hook on the wall.

As the minicon moved toward him, he found himself tensing ever-so-slightly – or at least, as best as he could manage from his current position – as while the tiny Autobot seemed to have pure intentions, he was still wary. The smile faded as his optics met those of the other mech, though not quite into a look of worry.

This was all way, way too easy.

If he were a nastier mech, or felt truly threatened, it probably wouldn't take much to reach down and hook the stasis cuffs against the tiny mech's throat the second he got close enough to grab. Crimping the softer metal and wires within, blocking the flow of the lines before anyone could make their way down here to stop him.

Sure, it'd be awkward to maneuver and get it right the first time - especially being upside down and with the significant reach he'd need to even do such a thing. But it was absolutely doable.

And the thought did cross his processor, albeit very briefly.

It was the little mech's words that seemed to keep him grounded, and he'd frown gently in response.

"A human medic building?" He wondered if there was one close to where they currently were - not that it meant much, humans had hospitals absolutely everywhere.

"I won't say a word. I don't think you're-" he paused, briefly - own voice going quiet just as the other mech's had. "-defective at all, Seventy-Four."

Ridiculously naïve, perhaps - but not defective. Though he did wonder if the other mech knew this room was being watched, and hoped that by admitting these fears aloud – even with the word being hushed –that the Autobots wouldn't do anything to him.

The minicon hadn't been on this planet long by all accounts, and should he have been hiding until found, it explained why he had no real concept of the cycles here - nor the passage of time. Something he found himself relating to as he hung upside down in this windowless time capsule of a room. He wasn't sure how long he'd been here, only knowing that it felt like an eternity and then some.

He watched as the minicon seemed to almost hesitate in thought on what to do with the cube, though did not comment. He did not want to rush things, or scare the little mech into realizing this was a terrible idea - not now, not while the Energon was almost within reach. He hadn't realized just how hungry he actually was until this moment, and he didn't want to mess things up now.

As Unit-74 stretched, so too did he. It was his turn to make an effort, meeting the other mech halfway. Arms reaching out toward the offered cube, a feat made hard given the angle and position of his frame - he was careful to take it from him. He hadn't quite worked out how he was actually going to consume said Energon – the whole being upside down thing was against him here for sure – but he could work that out in a moment.

For now, he had the Energon in his possession. His grip wasn't the best as his wrists were both shackled, and it certainly felt awkward to hold - but, as long as he didn't drop it? Things could only get better from here.

"Thank you."

[Unit 74]

When Knock Out claimed the cube it was weighted, heavier than it should be, a delay in Seventy-four realizing he had a hold of the rations. It took only a moment for him to unstick his servos, a small drop back to his pedes hardly jarring him as he settled back on the floor. With a few steps away, the Minicon found a better place to lower himself. With practiced ease he braced himself to remove one foot out from under himself, then the other to sit and look up at the suspended mech.

“Unit 74 thanks his friend. He doesn’t want to be sent.. where defective units go” Though his words were disjoined, he’d moved past the point of fear. After being declared not defective, why would he worry? The trailing of his vocals only hinted that he didn’t know where it was, or likely what happened. Information that was, no doubt, deemed unnecessary for him to know. 

Deciding it was hard looking up, the cleaning unit crossed his arms behind his helm and flopped down, settled quite comfortably on the floor with no concern for the loud thunk of metal against concrete. It was much easier to look at the other's faceplate even if it was upside down.

“Knock Out is a medic?!” Despite being busy with the cube, he hadn't missed that detail. It was as exciting as it was surprising, and how could he not be happy? More medics meant that if someone was hurt they would be helped. There would be no broken friends. “This unit will be happy when he comes down! Medic Hemorrhage and Medic Crux taught him how to help. We will make sure our friend has clean… sterile tools!” There weren't many terms that he adopted from his friends, though he understood them, but 'sterile' was a different, a special kind of clean, one that was especially important.

This unit hasn’t seen our first medic friends in a long time… before meeting his Autobot friends.

He will work hard and show that they were good teachers.

Thoughts interrupted, his helm tipped to the side. Whatever struggle the mech went through to figure out how to consume his energon (if he did) briefly put aside as he focused on a simple observation.

“Unit 74 has noticed, Knock Out isn’t like other medical bots. His frame is pretty. His vocals are smooth and… “ His faceplate scrunched as he sought the words. It was how his master had sounded, how he imagined many masters that weren’t his would sound… but Knock Out was much nicer than a master! “...important. Was he always a medic?” 

[Knock Out]

Keeping his attention on the Minicon, Knock Out could only gently frown in response to his words. The word 'defective' stood out to him, though he didn't quite understand what the little mech was so afraid of. Surely the Autobots – who were known for their ample and generous patience – wouldn't simply dispose of someone because they had something 'wrong' with them.

They'd be worse than the Decepticons, if so.

"Your secret is safe with me, though I wouldn't worry too much. Despite the fact I am hanging upside down via my leg, the Autobots are… kind."

Some of them, anyway. Even despite his current predicament, it could've been a thousand times worse should Optimus have wanted to truly harm him. As uncomfortable as he was, it didn't really hurt - though he sure did wish someone would come and get him down.

At least he had Energon now - though he was still mentally working out how to consume it while upside down. He was hungry, starving almost, and didn't want to flub things to the point he spilled the contents of the first ration in days all over the floor, and so for now would simply hold the cube awkwardly as the Minicon eased into a sit.

“Knock Out is a medic?!”

"I am, yes - a good one at that."

He wouldn't reveal his rank nor faction, even if the latter was probably fairly obvious – even despite the lack of a gaudy Decepticon badge marring his frame – given where he currently was, though would take the small opportunity to boast, just a little.

"Sterile tools?" he smiled. "I look forward to it - once I'm uh, down from my little time out, anyway. We'll make a good team!"

He'd already gathered that the tiny mech was some sort of cleaner, but to hear he worked with Medics? Well, it was a useful skill to have. There was a difference between getting something clean and something sterile, and the thought made him miss Breakdown. The big lug was an amazing frontliner, yet took care and pride in making sure the tools and equipment in the Medical Bay were up to the cherry-red mech's almost impeccable standards.

He seemed lost in his thoughts briefly, wondering what his partner was doing while he hung here pathetically from the wall, when the sound of Unit 74's voice pulled his attention back.

Ooh, compliments… he liked those, and they were paired with a question about himself. It was safe to assume it was on Autobot record somewhere what he'd done before the war, and so it was probably okay to talk about. It wasn't like he was revealing any Decepticon super secrets or anything.

"Aw, well I've certainly seen better days. Thank you though." scuffs from his fight with Prowl aside, it was fairly evident he took great pride in his appearance, as the areas that weren't scratched were shiny indeed.

"I take care of my appearance, not only just for myself - but because anyone receiving any sort of medical care would no doubt rather get it from someone who pays attention to detail and takes pride in themselves. I'd rather patients be comfortable with who is doing the work."

It was absolutely only for himself, but ah - he was trying to upsell himself a little here.

"As for always being a Medic, no…" he vented out a quiet sigh as he thought back to the better days. "That happened quite by chance, actually. A fluke - one I was quite skilled at, as it turned out." much to Flatline's chagrin, and the thought made him smile.

"Before this, long before this, I was tasked with doing minor repairs on our kind. Giving flashy new color schemes, repairing scuffs, dents - minor cosmetic surgery, that kind of thing. From there, it was onward and upwards! Custom modifications, fancy engravings for some rather exclusive clients, with a rather lucrative side gig in weaponry design and engineering that helped pay the bills!"

An awkward half-shrug was given, not helped by his current position - but also by the fact he was trying not to spill the cube of precious Energon in his servos.

"What about you? What's Unit 74's story, mm?"

[Unit 74]

He didn’t know how it was different. Unit 74 couldn’t remember ever not trusting someone, still… There were times when it was especially nice to be around some friends, when being safe, happy, or in this case trust felt...more. Whether it was Knock Out’s words, his voice, or because the opportunity had presented itself, some part of the Minicon’s processor decided that Knock Out was particularly trusted. He understood how important it was to be careful when they talked about being ‘defective’. Though Seventy-four wasn’t sure what it had to do with his Autobot friends. Perhaps something he would ask about later, what was much more interesting was learning about Medic Knock Out.

The dangling mech had his full attention, the Minicon taking in every detail with natural diligence. It was important, simply because he was speaking, but also because it was about the medic himself. It was when a question was turned on him that the scrubber’s helm tilted slightly.

“Unit 74 isn’t sure he has a story...He's not as interesting as Medic Knock Out, but if our friend wants to know, he will do his best.” The softer metals of his faceplate converged along the edges of his optics as he thought hard, sorting through what information his friend wanted… what was important.

“We first remember being many, and darkness. Then we were with our master.” The tone of recounting the order of events in his past was a little more serious, but it would lift with happiness as he interjected into his own tale. “His voice was like Knock Out’s! But, he wasn’t as pretty, and our friend is much nicer. We are happy that he likes to see cleaning units!”

His pedes rolled along the wheels at his heels and the base of his pede ends, further than closer from his frame, as he returned to the point of his ‘story’. The motion helped bring him back on task, and sort out everything in his helm.

“One day, big angry mecha came, and took us away. Unit 74 and many of his brothers went to serve… he isn’t sure. We didn’t have a new master…” Faceplates scrunching he only briefly considered the mystery that had been public service. “There were many NOT masters. They wanted everything clean ‘now’ but… they would make it not clean?” If Knock Out was confused, he wasn’t the only one. The cleaning unit’s optic ridges drew together as he tried to make sense of it. Why would someone make messes on purpose? Why would they break and spill things, and then yell before the cleaning units had a chance to fix it? Why did they think throwing more things helped clean?

“The mecha at Six Laser didn’t like to see cleaning units. Unit 74 thinks… They said that his brothers were defective. He could hear his brothers, and they were quiet... but they aren't defective, they are functional!” Even though the event was in the past, the Minicon still felt the need to defend his brothers’ working status, afraid for them. A twitch at his right optic occupied a brief silence, before he continued, calmly, resuming his ‘story’.

“Then there was the explosions, and we were found by our…friends. “ He wanted to say ‘Decepticon friends’, but he remembered how much it mattered that he tried not to. His derma pressed into a thin line briefly, not liking that he couldn’t call them what they were, and he didn’t really understand why. Thankfully there were much happier things to dwell on, as he rolled his pedes casually along the floor.

“That was how this unit met his favorite friend Caliber, and his first medic friends! He was taught ‘sterilizing’ and how to help take care of mecha’s plating so they wouldn’t get rust!” By far this was the most exciting thing he could tell Knock Out (despite the earlier mention of explosions).

“We like Knock Out’s story better. He is an amazing mech, that he learned an important function without programming! He would also like his friend, even if he wasn't pretty, but he understands. It helps other mecha know, he will help them look pretty again too! Seventy-four remembers... sometimes, it would make his friends hurt when they looked broken.”

[Knock Out]

Knock Out found himself smiling, and nodding at the other mech with a gentle bob of his helm - a quiet, gentle nudge as if to say 'go ahead'. While he didn't care too much for the minicon's backstory – nor would he have given him the time of day under normal circumstances – this was the most conversation he'd had in days, and he hadn't realized how much he needed someone to simply talk to.

It helped him focus, too - as while the little mech was distracted with talking, he could finally turn his attention to the awkwardly held cube. He was still listening to what was being said, of course - though he'd long since perfected the art of multitasking.

Now, though… how to go about this? At this point he didn't really care if the other mech saw him make a complete disaster out of such a seemingly simple task, the hunger pangs had become a little painful to the point he couldn't ignore them, not to mention holding the cube itself was awkward and putting strain on his arms.

Carefully, he shifted his servos as best he could on the cube, trying to get a better hold on it, before lifting it toward his face. Gently angling it, he took a hesitant sip of the Energon, taking care not to tilt it too much and spill the entirety of the contents all over himself.

It seemed slow and steady was the way to go, given the fact he was upside down, and even despite his focus on what he was doing? He was still paying attention to the other mech and his story. It was a shame he hadn't started as a medic, as the name 'Caliber' may have rung some sort of bell. He hadn't had any sort of cleaning drone to assist during those early days, then again he probably wouldn't have paid them much mind even if he did.

Their paths could've easily crossed, but unfortunately, things were lost on him.

As Unit 74 continued, Knock Out would drink more of the Energon - a little spilled each and every time he took a sip, but he was managing to ingest the majority of the contents, getting some much-needed relief from the distracting and painful hunger.

With the cube now mostly empty, save for the dregs that he couldn't quite manage to get - he chuckled quietly at the other mech.

"It sounds to me like you weren't defective at all. Neither you, nor your brothers - it's like a mech I know calling me incompetent every chance he gets, it doesn't mean I actually am." he shook his helm as he continued. "I feel like it was just an insult, spoken in a moment of frustration and not meant to be taken literally. I certainly don't think you are defective, and I'd like to think I know a thing or two, given I am a Medic."

He wasn't quite sure what to do with the empty cube, though given it was now far lighter, he simply let his arms dangle, holding it gently - though took care not to drop it.

"As for my story, it's really nothing special." he smiled. Being called amazing was always nice, and he certainly needed the compliment after the awful few days he'd had.

"Right place, right time - with some fortunate luck along the way. I'm sure I'd like your friend too, though - Caliber sounds nice. Have you made many friends since being here on Earth? Myself not included, of course."

Normally, he would've splayed a servo across his chassis as he spoke about himself, but given they were occupied with the almost-empty Energon cube? He simply offered a gentle chuckle instead.

[Unit 74]

Helm tipping to the side, the assurances the other mech offered were processed slowly. He understood the words and would never question the wisdom of his medic friend, but the pull of his derma was uncertain, confused by ideas that didn't match how he saw the world. Though, what stood out to him was that someone had been unkind to the medbot.

“Unit 74 … would never want his friends to hurt.” Though Knock Out didn’t seem bothered by the unkind words, he even said they weren’t real. Why then would someone say them? How did it help to say things that weren’t true? "He... hasn't seen Knock Out work, but he can become a medic on his own, he must be the best."

A small twitch along the corners of his derma, and Seventy-four considered the cube, and the way he had to carefully take his energon without making too much of a mess was fascinating. Could he get another if it spilled? Passing the cube the short distance from the floor was nothing compared to the demands of getting so much fuel from the dispenser and dragging it across the base. He would need to though, if was dropped, wouldn't he? It was obvious that his friend needed the energon.


“We have made some, but this unit is focused on learning the base so he knows where to clean. He is sure, Caliber would like Knock Out. Maybe he will find earth and they can meet." His typical joy had returned, the idea of seeing the mech again, introducing him to new friends, at least until his brows furrowed in thought. " Though... we suppose that our Autobot friends wouldn't be happy. And, he wouldn’t like to see our friend upside down. He would help, even if Knock Out told him not to.”

Each sip had been mindfully tracked, and while cube wasn't emptied, Unit 74 could tell Knock Out was finished. The arm dangling down because it didn't have anywhere else to go was a fair indication.

Our friend looks uncomfortable. The cube is heavy and he should recharge. This unit will help him!

Rolling back up onto his pedes, the scrubber scrambled closer to raise up on their ends, a light bob adjusting his height to better match that red gaze.

“We will take it!” Could he though? That might seem questionable with the way he was shifting his pedes, and reaching, in case the mech took his offered assistance. But seeing as the rations were mostly consumed, he wasn't likely going to be damaged, even if it was dropped on him.

[Optimus Prime]

While Knock Out and Unit 74 spoke, a distant noise beyond the door would gradually come into focus. At first, it sounded just like others in the past, someone walking by to get to another portion of wherever this base was, only instead of drifting away as quickly as it became audible, it instead grew closer. The steady thrum of a heavy frame, the long gait declaring one's general size... while said individual did not visit this room more than the one incident, its signature and the almost aura of power that came with it would easily point in one direction alone. Each strike of a step was solid, not rushed, but with purpose, the slightly ajar door that had been exploited calmly pushed aside just as there had been an offer of help over the nearly empty vessel.

"Unit 74, I am more than happy to assist Knock Out with his cube."

Optimus' words held a level of warmth that Knock Out wouldn't be familiar with, clashing greatly with the commanding force upon the battlefield, and the eerie calmness that had been utilized the last time they spoke. It was kind, not unlike a mentor figure who was there to guide others and try to bring them to a better place, which is very much what he tried to be. It did well to muddle over the unease and frustration he was feeling in regards to the small mech actually getting into the room, though he would certainly not pass such feelings onto him, given he would likely have limited knowledge of what had been done wrong to begin with.

Optimus understood just what Until 74 was, and how they likely viewed the world, effectively born a slave to serve others and little more. It was something he was not pleased about, yet he knew there was a time and a place to directly confront such ideals and teach a lesson, and right here in the now was not one of them.

Perhaps someday it could be worked on more actively one on one, whether by himself, or one of his other Autobots that would have the tact to approach it with compassion rather than a 'what is wrong with you?' antagonistic drive. It was not something that could be beaten out of another, and to attempt to do so would more likely than not result in additional trauma and behavioral quirks rather than leading to a revelation that opens their world to a new outlook. That was why Optimus was taking the approach he had, and would continue to do so through interactions in the future. He would strive to phrase everything as an invitation, or a kind request as if it was his joy to assist, having no intention of ever throwing out a hard order unless required should it be a more lethal situation.

Which this could become.

If Unit 74 was in Knock Out's range as he entered the room to take the cube back, it could very easily have been an opportunity to take a hostage, which... would result in more stress and anguish than any sort of real results. With said hostage, what would even be demanded? Freedom? To get freed, the Prime would need to be close enough to pull the post out of the wall, and if he was close enough to do such a thing? Well... he could just as easily clutch the red mech's throat and crush it in before he could think to harm the small Cybertronian to get his way. It would create pain for the Decepticon, anger in Optimus, and confused distress in the small individual who had no comprehension of what danger he was currently circling.

"Could I by chance speak to your friend unaccompanied?"

Trying to cut in before Knock Out decided to do anything foolish, Optimus' cyan optics would shift over in his direction, the softness to his features that had been angled down at Unit 74 previously, growing cold upon making eye contact. He was daring him to say something to upset the small cleaning mech. Daring him to do something to ANGER him before their upcoming discussion. He had a choice now that could greatly influence everything that may come after they were left alone, and it could be the difference between mercy...

Or violence.