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

[Knock Out]

Even though his frantic attempts at kicking made contact several times, it wasn't enough to seemingly deter Optimus from whatever he was about to do. Oh, how he wished he had proper access to his servos. A well-placed nick with his saw would do wonders in this moment where the Prime was up close and personal, and it was frustrating indeed that his one attempt at fighting back had done nothing except expose fresh silver where blue had once been.

The three-word response from the other mech was a relief, though it was one quickly overtaken by a new fear once the words actually sank in – if not the wall, then where. Back to his cell? Primus, he should be so lucky. Another round of interrogation in another, smaller room with someone far scarier than Prowl or Optimus? Perhaps.

"Wait- what?" he managed to stammer as his pedes met the floor once more, though it was curious how that grip on him was not relinquished.

Then, Optimus began walking, and he had no choice but to go with him.

Okay, now he was scared - and for a second he tried to resist being moved. It didn't work, of course it didn't work, and he was quick to find his footing to avoid being dragged alongside the Prime.

The corridor just outside the room was familiar to him, in that Prowl had led him here days ago - nothing stood out as interesting. Concrete walls upon concrete floor, and nothing had changed, save for whatever that thing was that hung on the wall. Perhaps it'd always been there, it wasn't as if he'd been paying attention the first time around.

He only saw it for a fraction of a second before it was grabbed and roughly pulled down onto his helm, blocking his vision.

"Oh come on!" he protested, trying to lean forward slightly in an attempt to fling the weird bag off himself – though it was pointless and nigh impossible what with the way he was being held.

"Even that lunatic cop treated me better than this!"

Under normal circumstances – or any other than this, anyway – a comment would've no doubt been made about how he was too pretty to cover up, though now, in this moment? He assumed the absolute worst. Led somewhere unknown, completely blind and at the mercy of Optimus, with no way of knowing just where he was? He had no choice but to follow.

[Optimus Prime]

"Even that lunatic cop treated me better than this!"

"Doubtful."

Dry spoken with sincere exhaustion heard behind it. While the other mech may not have used the visual cover, it was hardly worth being looked down upon with such scrutiny, especially with what the following events would be. Despite Optimus' questionable methods previously with the wall, he was not planning to do something quite as cruel, if it could even be called such a thing, and was making different choices this day.

While they walked, there were a couple of turns, before a sudden transition could be felt instantly, their footfalls that had been striking against solid concrete then resonating with a metal clunk that held a hollow nature to it. Dense enough to not feel precarious, a surface more than capable of holding their weight, but certainly not solid all the way to the earth, there was not even a moment delay before the platform growled active and they were suddenly going up a level. It could almost be jarring in a way, stepping from a utilitarian Earthbound location to who knows what, inviting perhaps the idea that they were not as isolated and devoid of technology as may have been otherwise believed.

The ride up to wherever they were going was short and uneventful, the mechanics shifting to a halt as soon as they had started one level up. It was here that the lack of care continued, Optimus giving no heed to whether Knock Out wanted to walk on his own or not as he turned him around face, his stride starting up anew where it transitioned back to the concrete once more. Up on this level, more of the base as a whole could be picked up upon, the distant sound of talking that was barely audible through walls, combined with a soft noise of mechanics and general activity that would fold into the area's neutral ambiance. The air itself even seemed to feel different.

Still recycled and stagnant, evidence of a closed-off system rather than something held in a building facility, the space nonetheless felt lighter than the confined cage below ground due to the activity present. It was this space Knock Out would continue to be pulled, Optimus' stride unwavering as he moved onward through a couple of turns, either guiding or straight up dragging the other mech should he opt to resist in any way. Eventually, however, things finally stopped before a room that had a faint echo to it from the empty space before it.

With a tearing motion, Optimus ripped the cover off Knock Out's head.

It was a wash area that was not much to see, lining up well with the expectations of one that would be in a basic base in an active wartime environment. That said, it would no doubt be substantially better than the hovel that was in Blackridge, lit with functional lighting, an actual spout and setup to try to get mud or dirt off should someone have a poor interaction with the ground outside, and simple supplies to assist in such a task. It was immediately apparent that Optimus was looking to rectify one of the grievances that were expressed, playing into the idea that if he helped him, then perhaps he would be willing to be more open about confirming even the most mundane of facts that they effectively already knew as true.

[Knock Out]

The single-word reply from Optimus was met with a grumbled scoff, though it seemed Knock Out knew better than to argue the matter further. With a bag over his head, and a servo grasping him tightly - he really was in no place to do much of anything except comply.

Or, mostly comply, anyway.

At first, the cherry-red mech was quiet, and obedient. Walking without issue nor much resistance, though the further they moved, the more fearful he became of the unknown. Where was he being taken? Surely it wasn't back to his cell, as Prowl had led him from there to the interrogation room without the need to blind him.

Perhaps this was a death march of sorts, though he could only assume there would be others around to observe should that be the case. Something like that, he'd be paraded around, a mockery made of him before whatever unfortunate end was to come.

Would they kill him? Surely not. The Autobots back during the height of the war had been cruel, been monsters, even – and he'd seen it first hand – but not now.

Or so he hoped.

While he didn't verbally protest his current predicament, a few times throughout the journey he made attempts to push his luck. Pausing in his footing just after the first corridor turn to see what would happen, a grumble of dismay at finding Optimus wasn't stopping. He only let himself get completely dragged for a moment, finding the whole thing disorientating when paired with the fact he couldn't see, before a couple of stumbled steps to catch his footing were found.

Then, after a moment longer, he'd tried to walk faster, in a pathetic attempt to catch the Prime off guard perhaps to the point of letting go. It hadn't worked, of course, and he was quickly reined in, that grip tightening ever so slightly as they continued on, as a silent warning to behave.

Relenting quickly after this, Knock Out would walk without struggle. Trying to pay attention to where he was based on the things he could sense without his sight. Which… admittedly, wasn't much. The first and almost immediate change was how his pedes were no longer on concrete, and for a moment they were on metal. Then, they stopped moving entirely, followed by mechanical sounds that he could tell were from an elevator.

So there were multiple levels here. Wherever here was. The jolt of the upward movement caught him off guard even if he'd been expecting it, and for a moment there he found himself thankful that Optimus had hold of him.

The elevator ride did not last long at all, then - they walked again, this time in another direction.

Back onto concrete they went. Then, new senses followed as they made their way onto this secondary level of the base. Sounds - voices, talking with words he couldn't quite make out. The familiar noise of mechanics, though not quite enough to place just what they were.

Even the air felt lighter, somehow. Not quite as stuffy - and he wondered how big the room was that he'd stepped into. Was this place larger than Blackridge Hold? Perhaps - though the fact he couldn't see had his thoughts adrift some, trying to somehow imagine the space he was in as he was led through it.

Were others watching him? He'd have no way of knowing.

It felt like they'd been walking forever, even if that wasn't quite the case. There were multiple turns, before they came to another stop. He couldn't hear the distant sounds of talking from wherever they were now, and it unnerved him.

Then - sudden light as the bag was ripped from his head without warning. His optics taking a second to adjust to things, noting how even despite the fact he could see where he was now, Optimus still hadn't relinquished his hold.

It was a wash area. One that actually seemed to far surpass the basic amenities of Blackridge Hold - not that that was particularly hard.

"Well color me impressed!" he whistled, gaze drifting to the supplies that didn't seem all that impressive, not that it mattered.

"While I doubt you Autobots have ever even heard of carnauba wax, I'm sure what's here will more than make do in a pinch."

((Gentle puppeting of Optimus done with permission, thank you!))

[Optimus Prime]

Finally letting go of the plating between Knock Out's shoulder wheels once he had seen what room they were in and made his expected unneeded commentary, Optimus would then reach down to firmly grasp onto the shackles that bound his wrists together, lifting them high due to the fact the other mech was substantially shorter than him. This wrenched motion once more was done with little regard to any discomfort it could apply, likely a little more forceful than was needed, yet it resulted in a quicker accomplishment of his goal, his free hand reaching over to unlock the stasis cuffs. In doing so they would make a faint powering down sound, followed by a click as the latches were removed and hinged with plenty of room to slip free.

The first reason of this seemingly unwise choice was simple, namely due to the fact that Knock Out would complain about not being able to wash off properly, while also due to the fact the stasis cuffs had an electrical element to them, and he didn’t need them shorting out to a point they would be worthless anyway. Or just breaking them. While they were simplistic, relatively speaking, and could be repaired with little real effort, it would free him for longer than was necessary, which was understandably unwise.

Yet, it also effectively granted the Decepticon the use of his rotary saw, drill, and welder.

"Go."

A blunt order, Knock Out given a gift to rectify one of his major complaints. Yet, Optimus then spoke further, needing to make something abundantly clear. It was while he said his next words that he took a single step to the side, almost acting as a barrier that would prevent Knock Out from taking an immediate sprint down the hall to try to find an exit.

"My tolerance is thin. Do not make a decision both of us will regret."

A challenge mixed with a warning.

Sure, Knock Out could possibly deal some notable damage if he opted to do so, however at the same time that would rely on his weaponry being able to even get to the Prime's body when a sword with further reach could be brought out in turn. So easily the double-edged blade could be summoned and plunged into him with vicious force that had the capability of tearing into his very spark, and so easy it was to imagine him doing so with the almost unpredictable sporadic nature of their interactions thus far. Would it happen? No. Not without further evidence there was no other option, yet Knock Out likely wouldn't know such a thing given his lack of interaction with him through the years, and that was what was important.

It was a threat that was that much more evident when Optimus drew the blade.

The sound of transformation ended as soon as it started, where there had once been a left hand and wrist, replaced by the two panels of a blade that crossed along one another. While his frame was damaged and obviously in very poor shape, the sword certainly wasn't, its sides honed to a lethal edge that caught onto the light above, the few nicks and scratches from use mostly polished out so that nothing would be in its way in rending through whatever may be in its path.

As of this moment, nothing more was done, cyan optics looking down at Knock Out to make sure he fully entered the room and didn't try to duck and weave past.

[Knock Out]

Upon finding that grip on him released, Knock Out's first instinct was to take a step away from the Prime. However, it seemed Optimus had other ideas, and there was a confused rumble as the shackles were grabbed and yanked upward to the point he found himself easing onto the tip of his pedes so as to not feel like his arms were about to be wrenched from their sockets.

He normally would've commented, chastised the Prime for being so rough in his manhandling, or some other lewd comment that would've been so very inappropriate – and it did take everything in him to keep quiet – but the last thing he wanted was this newfound freedom, as temporary as it probably was, to be taken away in an instant because he'd been ungrateful as to how the shackles were removed.

Primus it felt good to no longer have his wrists bound, though, and his first instinct once they'd been loosened was to carefully set the shackles down on the floor. They weren't at risk of getting wet out here, and unless he or Optimus stepped on them – which was, admittedly, a tempting thought – then they would be fine to put back on once he was done here.

Tenderly rubbing his wrists, he took a second to roll the joints, basking in the new freedom of movement that he had so taken for granted during his time on the wall, when his moment of bliss was interrupted by an overly blunt single word.

The fact that Optimus moved to block the doorway was laughable in a way, though the cherry-red mech held up both servos and took a step back further into the room regardless, showing he wasn't about to do anything too stupid like try to run. It wasn't like he would get very far, he didn't know where he was or just who lurked in the corridors outside this room.

The Prime clearly didn't think highly of him, though, and the next words – paired with the display of a weapon – certainly showed as such.

"Well you don't have to tell me twice." he awkwardly laughed, trying to find some light in the situation.

While he didn't trust the Prime, he knew Optimus didn't seem the type to attack the moment he turned his back, and so he turned fully - taking further steps into the room, making an immediate beeline to the small variety of supplies just to see what he was working with here. It wasn't much, admittedly, but beggars simply could not be choosers, and at this point he would take anything just to feel some semblance of cleanness.

With some sort of generic weird bottled soap in hand, and a rag that'd been used by Primus knows how many others, Knock Out moved to turn the water on.

Oh.

This was amazing.

They had water pressure. Actual water pressure, and it didn't take long for the water to get hot, either. Blackridge Hold was a crapshoot when it came to both of these things, and he hadn't realized how awful they'd had it, or how much he'd missed the Nemesis' wash racks until now.

"You should join me!" he called out over the sound of running water, simply taking a moment to bask under it and let it wash over him.

"It looks like you need it~ plus it's always been a dream of mine!"

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus was not one who was overly prideful. He always gave his Autobots a metaphorical ear to their troubles even if they could seem trivial to be shared with their wartime leader, and he wasn't above getting his hands dirty to achieve their goals as a collective even if the tasks were arduous and utilitarian. He didn’t want others to act for him while he sat on some kind of throne overseeing. No. He was not arrogant, and he didn't seek reverence as some may assume he should due to the ancient relic that was housed within his chest.

But he had an image to uphold.

He was not a friendly tour guide to drag Knock Out around to help alleviate his grievances to put him in a better mind space. He was not a guard who was tasked with nothing more than to simply make sure he didn’t step out of line and try to escape. Nor was he some participant in a deranged fantasy that the other mech had evidently fabricated at one point. Just as notable, he was also not a servant who was going to pick up after the Decepticon as a beaten dog that the war had chewed up and spat out.

No.

He was the Prime, and the fact Knock Out not only continued to flirt with him but had gone so far as to place the shackles on the ground at his feet as though he should kneel to pick up after him?

Absolutely not.

He would not bend a knee before this mech, and he had half a mind to order him to return and pick them up himself to make a point, though it could wait. Once Knock Out was done, he could retrieve his shackles from the dust-caked floor to put over his freshly washed wrists, ruining part of the gift he had been granted just because he didn't have the forethought to hand them over properly once they popped free. While this element would be approached then, and only then, the issue of the continuous flirting was another altogether, and it was a game that had grown old the very moment they first crossed paths in that parking lot months prior.

There was no real win on how to approach the commentary. To respond verbally and request, or even tell him to stop, would only result in reinforcing the idea that it bothered him on some level. Even if it was not a deep disturbance or large issue in the grand scheme of things, the concept that it was an annoyance at best had a possibility of making Knock Out ramp up his antics to try to fluster him more openly. Yet. To outright ignore him was resulting in little benefit either, the other mech despite everything that was going on not getting the hint that things of that nature weren’t going to result in anything of any value.

Perhaps it was a coping mechanism. Something familiar Knock Out did often enough back with the Decepticons that continuing it here was some glimmer of normality in an otherwise horrible situation. That mindset could make the flirtatious words more sad than anything else, a desperate ploy for some humor or attention, yet at the same time he didn't seem truly distressed, merely walking off happy as could be to admire their modest supplies as if he was in a passable hotel and he got to enjoy their offerings.

A sound of transformation was the only warning then, it sounding much the same as when he transitioned his forearm into his sword, however, the noise was pitched differently and its ending clunk was more resonant and hollow. This was the only warning before the room erupted with the echoing boom of a gunshot, the wall beside Knock Out bursting out into a spray of enamel-painted concrete that rained down in gravel-like chunks and dust. It was a language that was assumed to be popular within the Decepticons that most could wager the Autobots never understood, yet this action spoke the opposite. The Prime not only understanding its wordless communication, but choosing to speak it to incur obedience from someone who felt inclined to mock him at every turn.

Optimus stood there resolutely, the shackles still at his feet while cyan optics stared down the smaller mech to see if he wished to say anything more about his dreams.

[Knock Out]

Blissfully unaware of the rising ire in the other mech – or perhaps ignoring it simply due to tired ignorance – Knock Out continued with what felt like the best shower he'd ever had in his entire life. He'd only been standing under the running water for a few seconds, but wow it was amazing how good the hot water felt after being so long without.

Blackridge Hold was dusty to the point it felt like he couldn't keep up with it at times, but he managed as best he could. Those quick jaunts when he left the base itself were always followed by a trip to the washrack, if only to get the disgusting Earthly muck from himself. It was something he looked forward to, usually relishing in yet another win, even if the facilities at the Decepticon outpost left something to be desired.

Ah, but Prowl had put a dent in his most recent post-race victory plans to get clean, and then he'd been left to languish on the wall for however long it'd been. Wherever he was now, it was dusty too, and it didn't help that he still bore the scuffs and scratches from his little roll around in the dirt. Hell, he still had spatters of blue on him – blue that wasn't his, mind you – that drained away with what felt like an entire year's worth of grime.

Perhaps it was his smug arrogance, or the fact he was under the impression that the Autobots wouldn't actually do anything to harm him, but he certainly wasn't acting like a prisoner of war. So far, he'd gotten away with acting out some - and while his jaunt on the wall had been less than pleasurable, it hadn't actually hurt him, and now he was being given free rein of the washroom? It was almost too perfect, and no doubt far better treatment than an Autobot captive would've received by his own faction.

Even despite his sass, though, he did have manners - and should he have realized his grave error in putting the shackles on the floor, he would've rectified it in an instant. Though, in his own stupid defense, he hadn't picked up the cue to do anything but that, feeling it beyond rude to have Optimus stand there like a servant holding the restraints when it was bad enough that he had to stand guard instead of some lackey.

The flirty comments, well- how could he not. Alone with the Prime, someone who looked almost as dirty as he did? It could've been fun! Perhaps it was a way of coping, a way to get some semblance of normalcy - he'd never been above a flirtatious tease here and there, even to those who far surpassed him in rank.

Even if it hadn't exactly always worked out well for him.

For the first time in days, he was in a good mood - amazing what something as simple as getting clean could do, and perhaps he'd forgotten his place. He'd expected silence in return to his comment, after all, Optimus hadn't responded to any of his many attempts thus far, but who could blame a mech for trying?

Oh, but there was a response indeed, even if he didn't notice it at first.

He didn't quite hear the sound of transformation over the sound of running water – this water pressure really was something else, and he would be sure to relish every second of it – at least not until the very end, when shifted parts re-settled into place. It sounded slightly off, though he didn't look over, assuming the Prime had simply deemed him not stupid enough to run, and as such had returned the blade back into his arm.

Ah, but then- another noise. An unmistakable noise as an almost deafening single shot was fired. The emptiness of the room, and the fact it hit the very wall next to him made it all the louder to the point he was sure every other Autobot in the vicinity no doubt heard, and he violently flinched, both arms raising above his head in an attempt to shield himself as he immediately dropped into a crouch.

Had he been hit? The rain of gravel and dust fell around him like ashy confetti, smudging into wet blobs on his frame that were thankfully quickly washed away - and his optics were wide in horror as he stared at the floor in shock. There were no telltale signs of blue, no trickle of precious Energon from where he'd been hit - nor did he feel any pain.

It'd hit close, though – way too close – and he was sure should he do anything else? The second hit would surely hit its mark, or make him wish it had.

Slowly, he'd raise both servos - Optimus would be more than aware of the weapons housed within his arms, and he wanted to make it so blatantly obvious that he wasn't about to use them. Not that he had any chance of crossing the gap between them before he was shot, but still. With this motion, he would ease into a slow, careful stand, turning to look at the Prime directly then.

"Sorry." he muttered, voice quiet to the point it may not have been heard over the water, seemingly unaware that his arms – that he still hadn't put down – were trembling.

[Optimus Prime]

The boomed reverberation of the gunshot within the concrete cage of the wash racks almost caused the air to vibrate afterward, an echoing buzz that muddled over the noise of water as audio receptors likely reeled from the assault. It was momentary, though quite pointed, the aftermath of a lesson that had just been given to the Decepticon who found it appropriate to flirt and act as carelessly as he was under Autobot control. Yes. He would get away with far more than the other side of the war would permit with their captives, their methods likely leaving someone in much worse shape before even attempting to ask questions, though lines were still there, and Knock Out had to remember just where he was and more importantly WHAT he was...

A prisoner of war.

Optimus stared down at the other mech as he ducked and cowered briefly, noting how he lifted his arms to both to indicate he wasn’t about to fight, while also showing that neither of his weapons were drawn. If one had out of instinct, it would be understood to an extent, an act first and question later mindset being a trait many learned in this war to survive... Though this day such an impulse wasn't seen, Knock Out having the awareness to not even make a knee-jerk reach for any means to defend himself. This control was one reason that nothing more came from this event, the Prime's gun already lowered back down to his side, though the maw still crackled slightly from the heat of the shot.

It would take so little effort to bring the weapon back up to level off, its systems already more than prepared to fire once more should push come to shove. It was thankfully destined not to be, however, for after Knock Out's actions, a single muttered word cemented the fact that he had learned a lesson this day.

Should the flirting have been a coping mechanism, Optimus had no doubt that Knock Out would try again in the future when this incident shifted back from the front of his mind. It ideally would not happen anytime soon, yet it would resurface if even on a lesser level just to test the waters. When that day came he would not need to take as strong a stance, though for now, that was not much of a concern.

Offering no word of acknowledgment at the apology, Optimus eased his weight back, and turned about face, standing just outside the doorway angled out into the hall in front of it. He did not believe Knock Out could manage to do anything of any note within the wash racks, and as such he didn't stare down the smaller mech so he could finish up and get that checkbox marked to remove one of the two grievances he had presented that had any weight to them. This was also done due to the fact that no doubt others heard the gunshot, and he needed to cut things off so that everyone wasn’t sent into a frenzy.

Reaching his remaining hand up, Optimus pressed it on the side of his audial, sending a comm out to Red Alert who in turn could filter it to others on base without needing to rely on the overhead systems.

He trusted Knock Out wouldn't try anything foolish after the display. If he did? Well. It could be easily rectified, as even though his focus seemed set outward, it would not be difficult to see the blaze of red approaching from the edge of his vision.

[Knock Out]

A strange sort of silence followed the almost deafening boom of the weapon that still echoed in the Medic's audials, and while dust continued to sprinkle down onto him, something that normally would've made him flinch in disgust, Knock Out stood where he was, unmoving under the running water. He wasn't even sure what he was expecting to happen next. An acknowledgment of his single word, perhaps, or a comment about how that was his first and last warning – which pretty much went without saying, really – or maybe to be unceremoniously dragged from the washrack itself.

Instead, there was nothing but movement - the Prime moving but a few steps from the room itself. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing out there, nor did he dare make any attempt to see, though could tell from the few footfalls that he hadn't gone far.

It was then he exhaled the breath he'd been holding, slowly lowering his arms to peer at both servos, turning them this way and that, almost as if he was expecting to see some sort of injury that due to adrenaline he hadn't felt yet. He was shaking, and almost too afraid to continue with his shower.

Closing his optics for a moment, he would then inhale sharply, trying to pull himself back into the moment. He realized this would probably be the first and only chance he got to enter a washrack, and even if he was so very on edge now, he knew he should try and enjoy this while he could. It was in this moment of momentary solitude, even if that wasn't really the case at all, that he suddenly felt so very alone.

Perhaps it was the fact he was beyond exhausted, or perhaps it was because he'd been mere inches from being offlined, but he hadn't realized just how much he missed Breakdown and Flatline. Hell, at this point he even missed the idiotic Vehicons. Here, he had nobody but himself. His actions and words would alter how he was treated, something that he had unfortunately clued onto far too late.

Nothing like a near-death experience to shake things up a little bit.

While he wasn't about to cooperate to the point he'd willingly give up Decepticon secrets, he could behave at least, for the time being - starting with being communicative about what he was about to do.

"I ah-" he started, hesitating as he opened his optics, looking toward the doorway. "I'm not planning on doing anything, I swear. But I am going to clean my saw. It won't take long, just wanted to let you know." His voice was raised ever so slightly so Optimus could hear him from where he stood.

The weapon was still coated in Prowl's blood, after all, and given it'd been a few days or even longer than that? It was no doubt filthy with caked-on dust as well. While he'd prefer to have it properly sanitized, as it was a medical grade saw, he knew better than to ask for another favor he probably didn't deserve - and so the hot water and mediocre cleaning supplies would have to do.

A familiar shift of transformation would be heard as his servo moved back and up into his arm, replaced a fraction of a second later with the lethal built-in weapon. He wasted no time in starting to clean the blade, rinsing the dried Energon from its surface, wanting to get this clean before he started on his actual frame.

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus almost appeared dismissive in a way while Knock Out worked on getting the smears of dirt and Energon splatters off, more occupied with trying to preemptively cut off issues before they turned into anything of any note. Firing a gun indoors certainly was not a permitted action, and if another had done such a thing there was no doubt they would be spoken to given the panic it could instill in others. If events were left to unfold naturally, there was a good chance more than a few would skid around a corner to see just what was going on, and find out if their own guns were needed in the moment. So, he was more occupied with damage control than caring about the captive, though that didn't mean he wouldn’t see him coming or hear him should anything change.

As Knock Out spoke, Optimus' helm would turn just enough that he could view the other mech, a sort of piercing focus to make certain he was doing as he said and wasn’t using the opportunity to gain a head start in an attack. While the statement 'bringing a knife to a gun fight' was meant to belittle those who believed a blade was not applicable the second guns were involved, it was nothing but false. Any handheld weapon could just be as lethal in close quarters, and while he already had his firearm drawn? Well, it only would take one frenzy of movement later for the distance to be closed quickly. It wouldn't end well for Knock Out... though damage would go two ways.

In one second where there had once been a hand, a surgical saw was then mounted, the aftermath of the incident days prior in full display for the briefest of moments until it immediately started to be erased. Just as declared, this weapon was quickly stored back away once it was cleared of Energon and dirt, and with it, Optimus' focus would shift ahead once more out into the hallway. Whatever discussion he seemed to be having held greater priority than staring someone down, even if said someone was a prisoner that could easily cause issues.

It did not take long to disarm Red Alert about what had happened... or... disarm enough to be able to effectively put a pin in it to let it be a discussion later. He sternly reinforced that it was indeed his gun and not another's and that none had been shot in the incident at hand, though that did not make it acceptable. While many in leadership could take on an 'I am exempt from my own rules' mindset, Optimus didn’t necessarily feel such a thing, and as such he fully expected the prolonged backlash that would come from the other mech.

In due time.

With this incident put on the back burner, Optimus instead moved on to inform Red Alert to get Prowl's plant back into position. While it was a risky job, they couldn't afford to have Carbine simply not be there at his return, however how long he would be there would be short indeed. He didn't necessarily want that game to go on too long, especially as the black and white mech wasn't the most... stable... of individuals and had gone to severe lengths to make it look as though he were breaking out to look more legitimate...

By breaking out.

That was a new headache right there in itself.

[Knock Out]

The fact that Optimus seemed to turn his attention back the moment the blade had shifted into view wasn't lost on the cherry-red mech, though he supposed that if their roles had been reversed, he would've no doubt done the same.

Should it have been anyone else standing there, someone smaller - like Prowl, or perhaps Bumblebee? Maybe he would've tried something heroic with the built-in weapon. He probably wouldn't have gotten very far once the blade had sank its jagged teeth into precious Energon lines, Autobots were annoying like that, oh- but it would've felt so good to finish what he started with the cop, and getting some revenge on the yellow Scout after leaving the Energon cube so tantalizingly out of reach?

It would've been well deserved.

But Optimus? Please, he wasn't that stupid, and even if he thought himself fast enough to even try? It wouldn't have been worth the attempt - and so, once he had made certain that any and all trace of Prowl's Energon had been washed from the surface of the blade, the weapon shifted back and away. The drill hadn't been used in the scuffle, and so this weapon was not revealed for there was simply no need.

Unaware of the conversation going on via comms, Knock Out continued to clean himself under the running water. The warmth was comforting, in a way- mostly because the past few days had been anything but, and even if he was deep in enemy territory here, he felt strangely safe in this moment, even despite the gigantic hole just mere inches from his helm.

There were no further words spoken, the cherry-red mech simply getting on with the rest of the shower with little fuss. While inwardly he was lamenting the fact the offered supplies were mediocre at best, he was so truly thankful deep down that he was able to use them at all.

He could only wonder what would come next. Back on the wall? Back to his cell? Perhaps more interrogation. To Optimus' benefit, unaware of what was going on elsewhere in the base, Knock Out seemed to be content in taking his damn time in making sure that every inch of his frame – aside from those scuffs and smaller dents that he simply couldn't fix – was mostly spotless.

[Optimus Prime]

There was taking time to rinse off dirt and splattered Energon, and then there was being overly meticulous to the point that it might as well be stalling for the sake of stalling. In a way, Optimus couldn't blame Knock Out, for every moment he could spend trying to wash up was one moment he didn't need to spend in the Brig or even the wall once more, though there had to be limits, and even he must understand that he was starting to push the line. This said, the fact he was even attempting to approach any line of any kind was exceptionally foolish on a good day, and exceptionally moronic on a bad day when a gunshot had just struck the wall beside his head moments previously. At what point did the other mech learn? When would it dawn on him where he was and what was going on?

As the comm discussion tapered off, Optimus' focus shifted back to the side, glaring in at the room in disbelief that Knock Out was still pretending he had things to do. He could wait it out, try to see how long everything went naturally, or he could warn him to finish up... only both of those felt far too kind for someone exploiting his good gesture. He was not insulted enough however to draw a weapon, as that incident was not to be repeated frivolously, if at all. Because of this, he finally broke the silence and bluntly spoke, his words holding a decisive harshness that effectively made them law.

"You are done. Move."

No 'are you done yet?' nor a 'hurry up', or any other pushing comment. There would be no gentle shoves in the direction he wanted to go, and as such, he expected the other mech to react accordingly by not wasting any more of his time. In truth, Optimus didn't know what he would do if this order was ignored, as he felt like the gunshot mere minutes previously was further than he ever wanted to step in this given situation. He could only hope that lesson left a mark as glaringly obvious in Knock Out's psyche as the one on the wall, yet there was no saying when he could have a superiority complex by being a possibly irreplaceable element of the Decepticons. Perhaps that was why he was so abrasively flippant, someone who was untouchable in the ranks due to the fact he kept said ranks alive and functional.

Arrogance permeating every portion of his personality.

"Retrieve your shackles."

Still abandoned on the floor, Optimus refused to pick them up for the other mech, his stance shifting around so that he was then squared off at the doorway once more, creating an impassable wall in case Knock Out decided he thought he could run.

[Knock Out]

Could Knock Out stand under the relaxing stream of running water all day? Yes.

Would he be allowed to? Absolutely not.

In his defense, he hadn't exactly been given a time limit here, and while he was probably pushing his luck and the generosity of the Prime just slightly in that he was dragging this out far longer than was necessary, even he realized that all good things must come to an end eventually.

Though even despite this he made no motions of showing he was done, and no attempts were made to get back into good graces with Optimus by finishing things early on his own accord.

While the majority of grime and dust had been rinsed off now to the point it was more than acceptable to a normal mech, he used the extra time given by Optimus leaving to make sure he was pristine, then simply basking in the warmth while he could, knowing full well the likelihood of him being allowed in here again was probably slim indeed.

He wouldn't glance over as the familiar footfalls returned to the room, to the point it was as if he was – for a moment, anyway – pretending the other mech wasn't there.

Until Optimus ruined things by speaking.

Well, that was that, he supposed, and as much as he wanted to whine about not being finished – after all, such cheap supplies would need at least another rinse so they didn't leave a film of weird buildup, he knew better than to protest. Optimus' patience had probably run out eons ago, and he had been the unfortunate target simply for having the guts to push him far more than most.

He wasn't exactly the smartest mech, though it'd certainly be fun to talk about when and if he finally returned to Blackridge Hold.

Venting out a sigh of exasperation in response to what was said, Knock Out was quick to turn off the water. Being forced to drip dry was almost barbaric, though again- he knew better than to complain or even ask if they even had the means to dry him properly.

Then again, they probably did. This room alone was far better than the facilities he was used to back at their own outpost, and that annoyed him far more than it probably should.

Moving forward toward the Prime, he made a point of keeping his arms raised just slightly to the sides, servos splayed. Not only to help assist in allowing the water to run from his frame, but also to show to Optimus that as stupid as he was, he wasn't dumb enough to actually try anything.

At the order, or at least- he could only assume it was an order, as it'd been paired with Optimus moving to guard the door again for whatever reason, the cherry-red mech bent down to scoop the shackles up off the floor. Holding them precariously between his index digit and thumb like he didn't want to touch them, he offered them out.

"You know you don't need to use those, right? It's not as if I'd do anything."

While he'd had use of his servos in the cell, having his wrists bound for days on end had been beyond uncomfortable - and he wasn't quite ready to go back to that life, even if he probably didn't have a choice in the matter at all.

[Optimus Prime]

"You know you don't need to use those, right? It's not as if I'd do anything."

"This is no negotiation."

Oh, if Knock Out wanted to trade information for freedom of his limbs despite this statement while walking, perhaps this declaration would be deemed a lie. Same as when he had been freed within the confined room of the washracks, there would be little that he could accomplish with full range of motion before backlash would be turned against him. Obtaining a minor victory of hurting the Prime... at the cost of profound pain or possible death in return, whether by said Prime or by others who would rush to the commotion that did not have a call to stand down follow it immediately after. It was a risky choice of foolish disregard, and was flippantly moronic as Knock Out had been with certain actions thus far, even he had to recognize where major lines may be, even if he had been blind to some of the smaller ones.

Attacking under the grace of mercy was a recipe for disaster.

No invitation for such a thing was made, no prompting for him to do something. It was a choice Knock Out would have had to come to on his own, and it was a destination that wasn’t even sought understandably so. It was because of this Optimus had said what he had, and with a couple of solid movements he grasped the other mech's wrists, pulling them up to be at a more comfortable angle for himself, latching the handcuffs back on once more with little regard to whatever dirt may have remained clung to them from their momentary home on the floor. Some dust was hardly worth a real complaint, as the true filth of Energon and the outdoor scuffle had been washed down the drain to offer a modicum of comfort to their captive.

After the cuffs were secured once again, Optimus would let go to permit Knock Out to drop his arms so he didn’t need to keep them elevated, hardly offering even a moment before he grasped onto the headcover and shoved it back on. It could be seen as frivolous, as even if the Decepticon knew the layout of their base it wasn’t as though he could do anything with the information... this denial would be one less thing he could tell his team upon the day he was undoubtedly returned to them.

A day he hoped could come soon should it mean Patch would be given back in turn.

Optimus held no illusions that Knock Out would remain an uncooperative guest forever. Should they not be missing the young medic? Perhaps things would be different, though with her potential abduction, they needed the bargaining chip in order to buy her back. This said, if such a thing was possible, then why it was not sought out already was the larger question, unless they wanted to wring every drop of information from her processor before deeming her nothing more than disposable. One mech's trash was another treasure, and the life of any one of his Autobots was something to be treasured and honored to the highest level.

Time was slowly ticking down.

Grabbing Knock Out's upper arm firmly as he had before, Optimus would turn and start to pull the mech with him, taking the same approach of letting him walk on his own accord unless he were to throw a fit and dig his heels down, where he would seamlessly transition into dragging him.

-Fin