[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]No Refunds [Closed]

[Carbine]

"-Je ne sais quoi, as it were, is refreshing -"

"I have n-no clue what y̨-you ̢s̀a-̛a-͠kzz̢tc̴h͟-̛ąid but I will pretend it is comp͏lim͞en̶tary."

It sounded good, but what did he know? All he knew was that whatever dropped out of the other mech's mouth was either another language, a moment in which his processor jumbled words up too much for him to understand, or some weird slang for something since shorthand could almost be a new language in its own right half the time. Whatever way it was, it didn’t give off the 'I just insulted you to your face' vibe, and so he didn’t feel the need to harp on the details of just what it exactly was word for word, as he was more concerned with how Knock Out was after.

"Fuck e-everyone el͘s̛e! ̡I want̷ed to hear it my-self! Don't tŕy t͠o ͏r͟ob m̧y exc̨it͝ement, that’s rude of you. How d-dare."

Accusatory while also having a laugh that was bottled behind his words, giving Knock Out grief for trying to spoil a special moment for him. While he said this he went so far as to sideways point at him, a sort of finger wiggle as though he were scolding a child for doing something wrong. Really, what did it matter if the others knew it as fact already? Getting one more confirmation didn't hurt anything, and it made him feel good hearing it from someone who would know for a fact what was going on. Could the Decepticon be lying? Well... yeah... but it sounded earnest enough to Carbine and he was rather skilled at being deceptive when he needed to be, giving him a decent foundation to sniff out problems.

"Fixed it once, can fix it again"

"Exce̕pt y͏ou didn'͏ţ, did ýơu͠?"

Oh... he didn't know the timelines well as he wasn't able to see Windshield again after that day, however, what Carbine did know was that enough of a buffer was there between injury and disappearance that to assume he WASN'T mended would be a severe insult to Patch and Optimus' pet medic. He had to have been patched... hah... up enough to look normal, everything happening before systems tried to repair and adapt to no longer having meshes affixed to them. It made him bitter knowing that a prompt reaction time by people who gave a shit meant the difference between recovery and ending up how he was now... though who knows. He could pray the materials couldn't bond well. Pray there were times in the future in which he touched his face and could feel it slip and ghost across a gap between.

He knew that feeling well.

Then again, dishing out the very injury he suffered from still left that negative mark, that mech and him now superimposed atop one another in his mind. The demon from his past now taking on his own visage. Carbine was doing well to try to not think about it right now however, focusing on the good points that didn't torment him when he was lying in the dark in silence trying to go to sleep.

"Is that h-how you bec̡am̴e Ch̵i̴ef Mędic̶ál̀ Off͡i̵cer? Claiming other p-people's work? Tsk tsk..."

Knock Out wasn't giving a good showing all of a sudden, first trying to brush aside his joy as worthless and now trying to take praise for someone else's efforts? If they were all placed in their factions by morals and personality quirks, these two things certainly flicked the red mech in the direction of Decepticon for sure. Sadly, they weren’t assigned their positions by some judgment from above, or else their discussion here would be quite different this day. It resulted in the bottom edges of Carbine's optics crooking up further, his smile continuing to be displayed as best he could with his limited features.

"Puh-leazeee. It t-takes more than ͜a-̨a͘-a little̕ rat, a cheap shot, ̨a͞nd ͞a ̡pas̶sive͠ medic to clean up to keep me d-down."

He was a mech on the front lines! You had to have a certain amount of resilience... or luck... to keep going for as long as he has.

"I'm motherfuckin' Carbine! N-no-body's going to see the last͏ of me ́anyt̡i͠m͢e soon."

For better or worse.

[Knock Out]

Scoffing at Carbine's words, Knock Out couldn't help but roll his optics. While he had been under the impression from the get-go that this guy wasn't exactly an intellectual, the other mech all but confirmed it in his confusion toward what was a fairly common phrase.

Then again, one didn't exactly need to be smart to be a decent fighter - perhaps he excelled in other ways that didn't require any significant thought. After all, there weren't too many of them left these days, and obviously he'd done something to remain alive this long.

Tapping a finger idly against the berth in place of an actual vocal response, the cherry-red mech simply shook his helm. It was complimentary, though he'd leave it up in the air as to how Carbine took things. If anything, perhaps he had taught the mech a new phrase - thus giving him opportunity in the future to look smarter than he was.

Leaning the back of his helm against the wall, he'd lazily roll it to one side to look at the other mech as he called him rude, optics narrowing ever so slightly, even if it wasn't the worst insult he'd been called, it still seemed to strike a nerve somewhere.

"Surprised they didn't tell you. Or had you hunt him down, given you seem to be obsessed with him." the words were paired with a wink. "It's kind of cute. I can pass on that you have a little crush, if you'd like."

Then again, he couldn't exactly do much hunting of anyone from behind the electrical field – and there was the whole 'maybe thinking the traitor was dead' thing – though it'd been quite some time since the whole incident with Windshield, so he could only wonder just how long Carbine had actually been down here. It was awful convenient he seemed to have been thrown in here the moment he was, though that was neither here nor there.

Smirking as he was called out, he tsk'd.

"Exce̕pt y͏ou didn'͏ţ, did ýơu͠?"

"Aw, I thought you'd at least fall for that one." the smirk softened into a gentle smile.

"No, no- he arrived in pretty decent condition. Didn't even mention being punched, sounds like you didn't make a lasting impression."

Mm. So Ratchet can't have been bricked for too long, then - if he'd been the one to fix Windshield, anyway. Then again, Patch was also apparently a medic, maybe it'd been them who'd had the honor. He wanted to narrow down a timeline of his own, though it'd be far too obvious to ask directly.

Things to mull over later, he supposed, though for now he seemed almost insulted by the other mech's words.

"Hardly, I'll have you know I earned my position through hard work and effort - how do you think Megatron is still alive after his little flirtation with death when the space bridge exploded." he droned this, waving a servo almost as if it was no big deal.

To be fair, at least early on in the war, a lot of his success had been via trial and error, with certainly more luck than could be considered normal – much to Flatline's annoyance, he was sure – but it wasn't as if he didn't know what he was doing. Nor was it as if he'd had a choice, either. Medics were scarce, often picked off first simply to hinder the opposite team - which made his loss all the more significant.

Or so he hoped.

Matching Carbine's amused expression with a smile of his own, he laughed at the boastful declaration.

"Is that so? Tough words for someone locked in a cage."

[Carbine]

Carbine shrugged at Knock Out's initial words, looking rather indifferent despite it not being the case. As far as he cared he could pass on whatever he damn well wanted to, simply because it was a pipe dream and he wasn't going to be able to pass anything on whatsoever, if he even got to ever do anything else again. While he doubted Optimus would sanction an execution, he didn't think the medic would be cut free to frolic back to his team with a set of stories to share about his little adventure.

Then Knock Out said something unforgivable.

A crush. A CRUSH!? The idea made Carbine want to puke, nausea welling in his stomach in a way that was almost poisonous. The idea of him being infatuated with Windshield was a horrendous one, as every single facet of his personality and frame was about as far as you could be from someone he would actually be attracted to. Slap on the fact he had the Warden's head? And no level of hate could make him loop around into an obsessive desire to own or who knows how else someone could spin it. No. He wanted Windshield dead, to remove that blight from ever crossing paths with him in the future. With him gone? He didn't need to ever face what he had done again and could try to compartmentalize it and forget with some of the other awful things he attempted to pretend never happened.

If it was even possible to.

This frustration only bubbled up further when it came to light Windshield didn't even mention a punch, meaning that the strike hadn't hit as deep as he thought it had. Was this good? Bad? He didn't really know. He just knew he couldn't get roped into hyper focusing on that to keep things from starting to spiral. So, he tried to latch down onto something else.

"I don't know a-ab́out some Sp̵àce B́rid̴ge ͞ex͏p̵losion, but that sounds aweso͜me."

A Space Bridge was something damn complex, he knew that much... and it probably had to be big when compared to their little Ground Bridge, so to have one explode? Hot damn that was a dodged lethal bullet there. Then again, he didn’t know how far Megatron was from the blast, so it could be divine intervention from Unicron himself, or simply a dash of luck as scattered debris flung by on either side. Perhaps Carbine should have known about something like that, yet it was more evidence of the fact that he literally couldn't read past reports, and he hadn't made Thundercloud catch him up to speed. What did it matter?

"Is that so? Tough words for someone locked in a cage."

"HAH. I d-d͝o̴ubt I wi͘ll ͟be ̧h͡e͘re too much longer. We got like, f-four f̵ly͢ers and we need the manpower to find the Nemesis. We ̕don̡'͏t ha͜v͡e m͏-̧uch left to scour last I heard, but they need me."

A lie, one of the first real ones Carbine spat out since speaking to Knock Out, one that was made to help give Optimus an out given he sensed the displeasure he had about sending him back down here to begin with. They certainly had more flying Cybertronian than four, a total of eight of the fuckers including Wheeljack and his ship, though Knock Out likely wasn't aware of their numbers. Or, he was banking on this guess. If he was proven wrong? Well, he likely sounded dumb enough that the undershot made sense. Then again, another facet of this was the fact that they did have more aerials than he declared, yet not all of them were outfitted to take on such a job, Blades, for example, being a medic and as such exempt from such trivial tasks when more important things were probably going on. Though, even if he was sitting there bored, he probably wouldn’t be sent out... locked away perpetually in Omega One so they don’t lose three medics in a short timeframe.

Decepticon was always best with a dash of reality, so Carbine leaned into that.

"Pa̧thét̛i͠c."

Let Knock Out think he was getting good information.

[Knock Out]

Humming quietly at Carbine's reply, Knock Out nodded - smiling as he thought back on it all.

"Oh, it was a pretty fun ordeal - filled with all the juicy drama you might expect." Starscream trying to take over, Knock Out himself agreeing to assist in said takeover… it was the most excitement he'd had in a long time, and should it actually have worked out in their favor? Who even knew where things would be today!

"You weren't on Earth when it all went down, mm? You should ask Bumblebee for details, given his heroic role in being the one to wake Megatron back up."

Sort of. There was more to it than that, though it'd probably be all the more hilarious in coming from the yellow Autobot should Carbine feel so inclined as to ask him about it. Having Bee relive that moment would be a wonderful sort of payback for leaving that Energon cube so tantalizingly out of reach, since he couldn't exactly get at him with his sawblade anytime soon.

Carefully uncrossing his legs and pulling one knee up toward his chassis, he tucked the other leg underneath himself as the other mech spoke about the Nemesis. So they'd probably worked out, somehow, that it'd crashed. Though- Knock Out hadn't specifically given anything away thus far, feigning a sort of ignorance when Prowl had asked him about it during interrogation.

An ignorance that he would continue on with, as he shrugged.

"Four, four hundred- it doesn't matter. The Nemesis is cloaked, you know. Decepticon tech and all that…" There was a reason both the Autobots and the human military they worked with had been unable to locate it thus far, and while he wasn't quite sure if that tech still worked while the ship was miles beneath the ocean, he could only assume it was so far out the way that it probably didn't matter.

"I'll be hard-pressed to find it myself when I get out of here! I'll have to call in a bridge!" he sounded offended by the word almost, though mentally was trying to work out just who the Autobot fliers even were. Four of them? That wasn't many, then again, they'd never really been known for their air superiority to begin with.

Carbine was obviously one, then there was that one who'd somehow managed to almost take down Thundercracker - though those were the only two he knew of. If anything, it made him all the more relieved - as yes, while they had clued into the fact the Decepticon flagship had fallen, with only four members of the team to search for it? They had no chance in the pits of actually finding it.

[Carbine]

"Wake him b-b̨a̴ck͘ ̕u͘p? The hell you talking about?"

Carbine didn't necessarily sound upset at the idea that Bumblebee had woken Megatron after the explosion, so much as he was confused about it. It conjured images of the Scout trying to push internal systems back inside the monster's torso or something else dramatic to save his life and pull him from the brink of death. Something like what you'd see in some action movie in days long gone! Which certainly didn't line up with how things probably went. Yet, despite being confident that it wasn't something like that, it made him wonder just WHAT had happened. He would need to bring it up for sure to get the real story, as even if Knock Out told him all about it, he wouldn't necessarily believe it from the Decepticon. They were playing a nice little game of lies and omission and things would get all kinds of twisted.

"Let me guess, th-the goodie-goo͞di͠e th͜o̴ugh̵t ít́ was͟ ̕the ̛m̶orally right thing to do d-despite the fact he is an irred͠e̢em̵able monster?"

While it was said as a joke, Carbine felt this very well could be the truth in some form or another. Bumblebee was such a pure soul who was so forgiving with so much that he probably needed to not be, that perhaps he would actually find a good reason to help? That was questionable however given the fact Megatron had beaten the shit out of him and ruined his ability to ever vocalize like a normal person again... yet the greatest of heroes could often fabricate some kind of excuse to be 'good' lest it tarnish their little idolized concept they may have of themselves. Maybe whatever was done was done to help someone else and Megatron was caught in the friendly crossfire...? The Warlord fighting someone else and Bumblebee pushing them both out of the way... No... he had said "Wake Megatron back up". Eh...

At Knock Out's latter words, Carbine lifted his helm with a turn to imply a roll of the eyes as he spoke in a singsong voice.

♫ Clǫaks d̢òn'̛t ͠work with a br̢óken sh͞ip͏ ♫

There was no way the ship and its cloaking systems would be still functional if it was underwater, right? Carbine didn't truly know as he wasn’t aware of the difference between pressurized for the ocean and pressurized for space, but it sounded logical it wouldn't be working super well when shoved way outside of its element. Electronics didn't tend to like being wet, and the ship was full of them that were probably as techy as they were... biological? Eh. He didn't know. But as much as he didn't know about ship integrity at the bottom of the ocean, he did know a crash was a crash, and that totally wouldn’t have gone over super well. If it wasn’t destroyed, it would be having a very bad time, which meant the shield may be down. Granted, that also could mean other systems were down which is why sensors couldn't pick up on it, yet that was science crap and was way out of Carbine's sphere of experience. He played like he knew what was going on though.

"As for cal̴li͟ng ͘for a ̧b͡ridge, that kind'a r-relies on ͟y͘ơu b̡e͜ing rescued, eh?"

"I’m sure Soundwave has already half worked it out by now."
"I give you another day or so before I’m out of here"

"How's that f-faith in Soun̴dw̴ave going by the way? Still th͏-t͢h̵-th-ch͞c̛h-̕ink ͝it͞ i̧s j͝u̡st another day?"

Carbine let out a sort of tsk tsk, extending two fingers.

"Two?"

His hand flared out at this.

"Fi̡ve?"

A sort of chuckle followed.

"Th-though, it took me ̨a féw hund͡red y͘e͠ars before I fully grasped the fact that Garrus was probably m̨y̧ ̀de̴at͞ḩ home... So hey! K-keep on holding on͠to t̢h͢at ̨hope!"

[Knock Out]

Gently rolling his helm to look in the direction of the other mech at the obvious confusion, Knock Out could only shrug at the questions asked. It wouldn't be as fun spoken aloud, knowing damn well that Bumblebee didn't exactly have a choice in the matter, and so for a moment, he would let the thoughts linger in Carbine's processor, chuckling at the mention of it being morally right.

"You'll have to ask him. I'm sure he simply cherishes the memory. It was all very poetic, that little human child was there– not sure of his name. All 'boohoo Bumblebee, don't do this'-" he laughed. "Just wish I got to see it firsthand instead of on a recording, though with that I can rewatch it whenever I want, I suppose."

That unfortunately hadn't been the only thing picked up on the recordings during that whole dramatic saga, though best not to dwell– that moment had been and gone, though it was amusing to paint the yellow Scout in a bad light, even if he was sure the other Autobots would be quick to defend his honor should the helicopter mech ask for any sort of confirmation.

Carbine did have a point though, even if Megatron hadn't been the one doing things on the Beeper's behalf, would Bumblebee – or any Autobot for that matter – have saved the Warlord in that moment?

Maybe.

The sing-songy words were met with a gentle tsk and nothing more. It seemed the Autobots knew about the Nemesis, just like Prowl seemed to know damn well that Windshield was alive. He'd confirmed one, though opted not to say anything to fully confirm the second - as that was a much larger deal than some annoying infiltrator who'd caused trouble, and as such the cherry-red mech would merely shrug in response. He would continue to play dumb, having feigned ignorance during his interrogation, knowing he could at least keep that lie straight, at least for now.

Almost tuning Carbine out, though still listening just enough to know what was said, Knock Out shifted his attention upward to the ceiling. He would refrain from leaning his helm against the wall itself, however, knowing the chance to use a buffer was unlikely after that little stint in the washrack- and concrete wasn't exactly the nicest material to touch. He noted the various scuff marks, things that he hadn't quite familiarized himself with the last time he was down here, though... it seemed by the lack of Decepticons bursting through the front door to save him, he would have plenty of time to do so.

"I'm surprised you can count that high." he droned this with a gentle wave of his servo, dismissive almost, though still didn't turn to look at the other mech.

"I'm sure Soundwave is working things out as we speak- and if not? Well, I'm not complaining about the free vacation. Shame you Autobots took away my table and chair though… thanks for that, by the way."

Carbine's mention of a 'few hundred years' was a little scary deep down, and by Primus he hoped he wouldn't be down here that long.

"Speaking of, how long do they have you down here for, anyway? The Autobots seem pretty lenient, all things considered; though you probably did yourself no favors in breaking out the way you did." he chuckled.

While the other mech seemed like a bit of a moron, it was at least nice to have someone to talk to. Those few days on the wall had been unfortunately quite eye-opening, and he could only hope Carbine would be down here with him for a while yet.

[Carbine]

Wait... what?

"Now THAT sound̢s ̛wéi̕r̨d. I can imagine Bumblebe͟e͘ ̛bei̡n͜g all ́hero complex, b-but Rafael b-begging him to NOT sa͘ve ͘sóme͠o͏n͟e's life? EHHHhhh"

Knock Out had him going with the first bit, but now he was very much leaning in the direction of 'this is a bundle of bullshit meant to mock them'. He didn't know the little human very well at all, but he seemed like one of those new-sparked souls who didn't know just how cruel life was yet. Living in a little idealistic world with his nose burrowed into a book or his computer screen to help them out. He was great with that techy stuff, but having the capacity to stand up and try to tell his best friend to not save a life? That felt weirdly SAVAGE and it didn't really fit. If any of the kids would be like that, it'd be Miko, and even then, it'd be 'Beat him up!' rage grr grr mode, until reality caught up and she realized someone was literally being murdered in front of her. That shift would probably be sobering, but that was neither here nor there.

"I like stories, but̛ re̶m͡em͏ber! I know th-the c̛asţ ̀better th͏an you do!"

Try again fuckhead.

"Shame you Autobots took away my table and chair though… thanks for that, by the way."

"Not my f-fault I̢ fig̢u͟red out how to use them b-before you did. Lea̡rn̴ to ̵b̴e cręative instead of just wallowing. If I tried, I coúld g̨e͘t ͝out again. I bet you c-could do the same."

Encouraging a Decepticon to escape? It sounded like a bad idea, yet it was said with so much conviction. There were ways to get out of almost everything if you thought outside the box, and if there didn't seem to be any options? Well, you just weren’t at the level of desperation needed yet to figure out what had to be done. Find enough savage desire for survival and any tool can be made from anywhere, even if it came from one's frame. Carbine would never forget that, seeing how someone managed to break open their cell using a piece of their leg that had been ripped off as a prybar... while that didn't work out for them as they hadn't properly planned BEYOND that point to escape, the proof of concept was there. This flicking memory made Carbine peered at his own arm at the long white flare that jutted out on the side, recalling having looked at it as a knife on more than one occasion. Perhaps sometime he should get help and sharpen it... but that was a thought for future him, his focus returning at the question.

"Really? Jokes as͞ide͞? ̡I t̶hink it̵ is bullshit I a-am down her͞e ͟at ͢ąl̨l. Sure. I said s-some things, and I have some 'Ang̨er͏ Is͟su̵es', but I am no worse than a-anyone else, I just am not sc̨a̵r̡èd to sh̴ow how I feel."

Some honesty bled into Carbine's words as they grew sober, perhaps speaking more from the Spark than he intended to. It was this casual nature that reflected then in his posture, his left leg crooking up so he could snag the hoop of his heel onto his opposite limb's ankle guard, propping his knee up so that one arm could rest over its cap. He continued to look over at Knock Out, noticing how he was trying to get comfortable too.

"Prowl is the one who ͝made͏ th͜e c͟áll. If he had his w͠-͢way I would probably be here as ͏lo͢n̵g as you. Optimus will interve͞n̛e ̕when it ̧is ͝c̡onv̴enient though, when what I am, not w̨ho Í am, i͡s needed."

A flyer. A fighter. A tracker. An excuse. A problem.

A monster.

"D̀o you think that is why the Decept͞i̧cons hav̢e͢n’t̨ intervened yet?"

While his previous words against Knock Out's perceived worth were mocking in nature, this one kept the quiet conversational tone, as if it were a true question and not simply thrown out there to rile the other mech up. In a demented way, perhaps he was looking to see if the other team was the same. Seeing them all as things to be used as a tool rather than being an individual that was helping them forward towards their ultimate shared goals.

"Th̡éy don't n-need you at this s-second... so you're basi̛cal̡l͡y ìn ͠stor͠age l͢ik͠e m̶e?"

[Knock Out]

Tsking softly at Carbine's initial words, Knock Out's lip twitched into a gentle smirk.

"Well, it was Megatron. The big bad of all big bads… Maybe the kid was onto something."

It honestly hadn't gone like that at all, though it was fun to tease and plant little seeds of intrigue in the other mech. He had – technically, anyway – been telling the truth about Bumblebee being the one to bring Megatron back from what was practically the brink of death, and… ah, Rafael was his name… had been there to witness the entire thing.

"I like stories, but̛ re̶m͡em͏ber! I know th-the c̛asţ ̀better th͏an you do!"

"I'm sure you do. Ask Beepers sometime though, it'll be funny- I promise."

Keeping his gaze upward, the cherry-red mech couldn't help but close his optics. He'd finally found a comfortable position to settle, though while he was beyond exhausted after his little stint on the wall, he wouldn't slip into recharge; instead, just taking a moment to relax.

"-I bet you c-could do the same."

"I probably could." he mused, smiling. While he did not open his optics, both servos would lazily lift in front of himself, the delicate fingers of his left servo curling, though his index one remained outstretched as he pointed to his right arm. He did not make any other motions for demonstration purposes, though his following words would hopefully get the point across.

"I may not have any ranged weapons, though my sawblade and drill would make undoubtedly quick work of removing this berth from the wall. Dismantling that, copying what you did with the chair…? Well, I'd be out of here in a jiffy."

He was mostly annoyed that it was another option for relaxing that'd been taken away. The berth was fine, though uncomfortable - and it felt all the more shackling being stuck with only this place to sit down. Easing both servos down to rest in his lap once more, he vented out a sigh as he continued.

"Could drill through the wall, though of course these tools are medical grade and I'd probably ruin it permanently in the process… Not sure if it's quite worth it yet, especially as I'm not sure how thick the concrete actually is."

It was probably doable. Of course it was, though he'd probably have a far better chance at getting somewhere either by using the metal berth to short-circuit things, or finding another way to disable the electrical field from this side. Things he was too tired to think about in the moment, knowing that should he remove the berth and the plan fail spectacularly? Well, then he'd be stuck having to recharge on the floor- and he wasn't quite so desperate to do so. At least, not yet.

He did have options, though, and it was evident he'd given it at least some thought.

Remaining quiet as the other mech spoke as to the reason he was down here, the cherry-red mech shrugged. Who didn't have anger issues these days? It was interesting that it was those 'issues' that'd got him thrown down here, though at seeing how short a fuse Optimus actually had? Perhaps Prowl had been doing Carbine a favor in locking him up.

It was only at the mention of the Decepticons that Knock Out's optics opened, gaze shifting to look at the other mech, narrowing into a gentle frown. He hadn't truly given it much thought before– too preoccupied with his own predicament to really worry about what was going on back at Blackridge Hold. Perhaps Flatline did have things handled to the point he was no longer needed, no longer deemed as worth saving because he wasn't useful. With Breakdown there to assist as well- the big blue mech could more than handle the majority of the routine Vehicon checkups, so mundane and boring as they were…

"Perhaps." he said, simply, though even with the single word it was probably evident that Carbine's words had hit some sort of a nerve. A truth that perhaps he hadn't been willing to face quite so soon.

"I suppose we'll find out eventually, hm?"

He wouldn't give up hope, no- Breakdown would look for him, Breakdown wouldn't stop looking for him, that much he knew, and it was this thought that he clung to as his attention shifted upward to the ceiling once more.

[Carbine]

Carbine listened cautiously as Knock Out spoke, inwardly noting that not only did he now have an idea of how the mech may try to escape, but Red Alert probably did as well given it was all recorded. It gave them something to keep an eye out for, not that it made much of a difference anyway. The second his drill or saw roared active someone would probably be on their way.

"If you don'̵t h́áve r͟u̕bber soles, I w-wo͜ul̀d̴n't try that."

A sort of simple warning, as it was only due to the grips on the bottom of his peds that he didn't electrocute the fuck out of himself.

"-as I'm not sure how thick the concrete actually is."

"I also woul͝d́n't ̢try tha͡t. You're under-un-underground. You will j͠ust h̴i͟t roc͠k, or a lot of dirt."

Honesty saturated Carbine's words as he crushed dreams, almost a sort of worried warning rather than an 'I must deter him from trying!' response. There was no escape from this room other than the door that led them in here, unless the outer halls did loop in a way that it stretched behind Knock Out. He didn't think they did though, a brief pause given to try to imagine and map out the paths of the base on this level to the best of his ability. If he was wrong, if there was an open hall behind him though, the chances of the other mech getting upstairs and out were slim to none given a flick of a switch could probably disable the elevator. He could get up to some mischief if he got to a storage room, but beyond that? It would be a bad idea and would land him restrained in ways that regret would probably consume his every waking moment.

"If you d-do get out, can̴ yo͞u ͏o̵pén my͢ cell too?"

Cautious, almost worried to even ask.

"If I play good, m̛ayb̡e they ́won't find it worth th-the effort to take me ba͠ck͏ ͟dowņ here after the dust settles f-from your escape..."

Carbine tolerated being locked up just fine, as he knew it'd be weeks maximum unless something went catastrophically wrong, and when compared to how long he was stuck in Garrus? Well, it was not even worth the effort to put them on a scale versus one another. That said, it didn't make it fun.

"Unless I did foll̶ow ͏t̨hro̵ug͢h on̕ my̡ ͏threats."

Yellow optics seemed to narrow at this, his helm crooking aside to look at the ground where it transitioned to a wall, noting the collected dust that settled where it was never swept up. His threats had felt so very real at those moments. So LEGITIMATE that it was difficult to shuffle them aside as a mere flippant comment made to piss Avalanche off. He had wondered what it was like on the other side, and recent events did little to do anything but reinforce this deep curiosity and want to be around people who may understand him better. Where he could kill someone when they were downed and helpless just to flick them off the chessboard that was the opposite faction. Mercy was an act of weakness, inviting the pardoned soul to return the favor by a knife in their back. This thought made Carbine feel that much more uncomfortable, and if he was talking about the Decepticon before him making a grand escape? He could lean into his insecurities to look like an ally on some level. Step beyond the idea of two souls bouncing amusing commentary against one another as some sort of game.

"I am not a-asking whe͜re i͏ţ is,̧ bút ͠wḩàt's i͜t even like without the Nemesis? Though, I d-don't know why I am t-trying when you will just lie. I guess... I won'̢t kn͞ów͘ unl̡es͞s I ̀fo̸l͡lowed you, and even then, you'd p-probably throw me to thé s͜id̨e͘ l͝ike Opt̕imus did Windshield."

A pause.

"Or just t-take the fr͟e͏ę k͜i̕ll."

Cautiously somber, the black and white mech didn't turn to look back at Knock Out, as though he didn't care about what body language may be there to betray a level of truth or lies that may follow. What he did do though was seem uncertain, almost hesitating as he spoke of things he really wouldn't want to humor in front of Prowl or Optimus. This secretive feeling surfaced further as his voice lowered, becoming a soft mutter of someone who felt they didn't fit in and was feeling defeated because of it, speaking in such a way in hopes that it'd make it too hard for the cameras to pick up on. It was a very realistic showing of such discomfort! His acting was absolutely top-notch flawless with the best of them out there as though he practiced this moment for weeks! Though, the reason it was so good was because it wasn't played up, but was real, the lingering thoughts of how little he felt that he fit in still chewing at the back of his mind.

"Ho͠w can I k͝n͢ǫw̨ it is even worth it?..."

[Knock Out]

Ah, closing his optics earlier had been a mistake- as in that moment he realized just how exhausted he actually was. As much as he wanted to slip into recharge and get some rest, he knew the likelihood of being found anytime soon was depressingly slim, meaning he'd have all the time in the world to pass the mundanity of this new existence with sleep.

So, he moved, uncurling his legs from under himself and stretching them out, letting them hang off the berth as he listened to Carbine. One thumb would gesture to the wheels on his back.

"Appreciate the warning, though I'd have that covered."

While he was practically vanity personified at times, he wasn't above slicing his own tires to give himself some sort of grounding when it came to electricity. While it would be a hassle to get them fixed eventually, Flatline had–

He vented out a sigh, shaking his helm and pulling himself from the thought.

"Underground? Interesting. Though I assumed as much, given the stagnant, recycled air."

He was used to that after being in Blackridge Hold, though it seemed the Autobots were under similar circumstances. While he knew Carbine meant the cell itself was probably underground, a gentle warning to not even bother trying to dig through the wall, it made him wonder if they were in a strange little cave system like the Decepticons were. Sometimes with those, there were natural springs that ran through them, and he hadn't heard any sort of rushing water while being paraded around with the bag over his helm- though it did get him thinking about the water pressure in the washrack.

At the cautious question, it was then he turned his gaze back to the other mech, using his servos to pull himself forward and up into a stand, if only to force himself to stay awake.

"You mean like you opened mine?" he tsk'd. "Then again, you did have a medical emergency I suppose… Though what's to say you don't immediately try to kill me upon letting you out? Brownie points for murdering the Decepticon, easy way to get back in the Autobot good books, mm?"

The mention of threats was met with a gentle hum. He wasn't sure the other mech would do much of anything. If he was going to? He no doubt would've done so already, with the Autobots simply putting him in time out for simply humoring the thought aloud. Then again, he hadn't been there to witness the conversation that'd got the other mech thrown down here, so perhaps there was merit to his words.

Perhaps he was trouble.

Pacing slowly, Knock Out continued to listen as another question was asked. He wouldn't move far, not that there was a whole lot of room in the cell to begin with, though lingered near the electrical field, peering up at it in absent thought, before turning his gaze across to the other mech.

"Lie? Please. I mean I'm here, aren't I? That's your answer. It's this. Nothing more. Just this. I'm not stupid enough to reveal the ins and outs of what's going on while there's a damn camera pointed directly at me, even as exhausted as I am."

If the aim had been to tire him out to the point he'd start rambling, they'd be waiting a while - he still had his wits about him, at least for now. Access to high-grade was another matter entirely, however- though he doubted they had enough of that laying around to do much of anything.

"If you followed me, you wouldn't be anywhere near me for one thing- I'm the CMO- or... was, I suppose. You'd be, I don't know. A soldier. Working alongside others, probably your bestie Windshield." he shrugged.

"I wouldn't take the free kill though, I have far more class than that, plus I'd probably get a star for bringing one of you back with me." he chuckled at that. It'd certainly be a first, or at least the first he'd ever heard of it happening.

"Perhaps Starscream himself would take you under his wing, given your flight capabilities. There'd be some semblance of freedom though, I'm sure, if only because not much gets past Soundwave so good luck trying anything. You want to sneak off and reveal everything to the Autobots once you learn all the "super secret"-" he made a point of doing air quotes as he spoke. "-Decepticon intel? Best of luck. You want to pick a fight with someone? We'll enjoy the free entertainment."

He wasn't sure just what would happen. Would they accept him into the fold simply for wanting to betray the Autobots? Recognize him instantly as one of their own? Would he be locked up and interrogated? He did know where the Autobot base was located, after all, which remained one of the great unknowns, even to the Spymaster.

Usually, it went the other way around, with Decepticons joining the opposite faction for one reason or another, and so he had no idea how it'd even work.

Easing up onto the tips of his pedes, if only to stretch and make an attempt to get a closer look at the electrical field from this side, he could only chuckle at the mused question as he settled back down onto level footing.

"You don't. Not until you try, I suppose. You're either happy enough to stay here with team friendship and rainbows, or you aren't."

[Carbine]

Oh. Tires. That made sense. Ripping them off to use as pads to protect from electricity would be hardcore, yet that also meant Knock Out couldn't drive off if he did get outside... though... he COULD just call for help then. It didn't matter though, Carbine didn't see it as a threat on any real level worth talking about further, as his interest had already moved on to far more important topics. The most notable of these new talking points was the fact he did feel like an outcast, and he was trying to use that isolated depression to try to befriend a Decepticon in the most fucked up game of two truths and a lie that he could ever play. Was it mentally healthy? Hell no. This was likely doing a number on his already unstable psyche and battered sense of self, yet this was the job he was assigned and he was going to whiplash himself through some crazy emotions like the shit he was.

"-Brownie points for murdering the Decepticon, easy way to get back in the Autobot good books, mm?"

Carbine sat up some while offering an accusatory point in Knock Out's direction.

"I t-told you Optimus͞ gav̨e̴ m͘e̕ ͘sh͞it àbo͜ut trying to kill a Decepticon that couldn͟'̕t fi̛g̶ht back. Taking a cheap shot at a-a captive would b̀e̴ the end of me."

His tone momentarily pitched up as if offended at the idea he would have done such a thing. Really, Decepticon or Autobot, pulling a CAPTIVE out of their cell to murder was as good as shooting their team in the foot, then spitting on the lost opportunity after spitting on their corpse. It was so frivolously counterproductive it needed a certain level of crazy to ever think that it could be ok. Maybe it was more common in the other side, hence Knock Out's suggestion, yet to Carbine it felt like a completely asinine choice. Then again... if it was Windshield he would... so maybe there was some merit to things when the right participants were involved.

Whatever the case, Carbine's mode had clicked down to a lower level, his thoughts drifting over more recent events outside of this cell. All the instances where he tried, but failed simply by being himself. It was this that made the other mech's first words somewhat sting, effectively being called an idiot while the point of what he was asking was missed at first. It made his optics narrow as if gritting through discomfort, not sure if he should snap back about it to make his mindset clear, or if he should let more be spoken by the other mech, resulting in the topic shifting to military placement and the fact he would be reporting to Starscream.

That was a wonderful thought.

Not.

"I'm not asking foŗ ̕tḩę ins and outs..."

Frustration laced within Carbine's words, before he continued.

"I don't think Starscream̢ wo̢u̢l̛d e̕v̨en humor me though. He is w-what... the best flier out̴ t͟her͘e? ͟I a̧m a shit-copter who used to b͟e a h͘ơver̡car."

A popped disgusted laugh was forced out that was throttled into a single bark, the bottom edge of one of his optics crooking up as if sneering at the implication. It was such a forced sound that it was more than apparent he didn't actually find any humor in it, honestly disgusted at what he had become. He missed his original Alt-Mode so much... he would give nearly anything to be able to be himself again. He didn't know what he was looking at in the mirror with what he currently was. Oh, he saw mostly familiar shapes, the zigzag and rings of white, his shoulder shields that remained unchanged, yet other things were off. The most notable were the rotor post and wings, but there was the lack of the propulsion system and other magnetic mechanics that locked down between his neck and shoulder blades. Other more subtle things were simply different to match his new alt, such as his knee and shin guards, and the shapes of his upper arms. It all felt wrong and he didn't appreciate it.

These thoughts made his back itch, his right arm raising to grab up at where he normally would feel the armor protrusions that weren’t there at the side of his neck.

"I gue̷śs it is a b-blind jump. I am not too ͠ha͏p͟py ḩere, ̨bu͝t it could be worse on the o-other sid̛e a̶n͡d ͏įt i̵s ͢s̷tupid I'm looking for reassurances."

Now that the more impulsive responses had been offered, Carbine's tone of voice seemed to retreat again to the softer ones, his fingers scraping down against the armor with hard pressure at the odd void next to his neck still.

"I st̕ill̡ ͏regr͜et c͏o̧ming to Earth at all."

What he wouldn’t give to be back there... that distant planet feeling like such a safe haven. Cybertronians weren’t looked at kindly, but they were tolerated, and he had made a little hole for himself and Thundercloud. If he hadn’t been guilted? He'd still be happy as could be. For all of his somber thoughts, however, for how much he was speaking rather from the Spark, Carbine did take note of the fact that Knock Out had implied his role of CMO would be gone at his return. Was this an expected demotion for DARING to get captured? Or was his little replacement that good? He couldn't imagine Ratchet being demoted like that. If he got his mind restored he wouldn't turn around and report to Blades... right? Whatever the case, he let out a longer exhale of a vent.

[Knock Out]

"Well, it wouldn't exactly be a cheap shot, seeing as how I can and will fight back should you be stupid enough to try anything heroic if I let you out."

A gentle smirk paired with the words, the delicate digits on his servos curling some as if by instinct. Even though he cared probably a little too much about his frame and general appearance, he wasn't above getting down and dirty and having a good old-fashioned fight to the death. It certainly helped he knew exactly where to cut to inflict the most lethal damage without much effort.

Though hopefully it wouldn't come to that, at least– not today in this room.

Pacing back and forth slowly, the cherry-red mech listened to Carbine as he continued. While his attention wasn't directly on the other mech and what he was doing, with his gaze looking to the stasis field and the wall it was attached to, he would occasionally nod as if to show he was listening.

"Starscream? He'd have no choice, given he is the Air Commander-" anyone flight capable no matter their altmode reported to him, and Carbine would be no exception.

"The Decepticons don't only have jets, you know, so you'd fit in just fine." he smiled.

Movement from the other mech momentarily pulled his gaze in that direction, and he watched as Carbine seemed to grab at nothing. Curious, though not enough to question out loud. Perhaps it was tied to the comment about what he'd been back on Cybertron. Perhaps he was simply going stir-crazy in this tiny little cell.

Perhaps it was a bit of both.

Chuckling at his next words, he'd shrug as he continued pacing.

"Blind jumps are high risk, high reward. You won't know until you try. From my perspective things are far better over there with the winning team-" water pressure in the wash-racks aside "-Though I'm probably biased."

He'd elaborate further if asked for specifics, though Carbine had mentioned not wanting the ins and outs, and so he'd refrain from giving the whole spiel of just what was so great about being a Decepticon, even if it would be sort of fun to 'corrupt' an Autobot.

While his attention had drifted back to the wall, almost as if expecting a way out of here to jump out at him, he'd momentarily look to the other mech as he spoke again.

"Oh? Why's that? Did you not have a choice in the matter?"

Pausing in his pacing, he'd carefully lean against the far wall, loosely folding his arms across his chassis as he kept his attention on Carbine.

[Carbine]

Ugh. Reporting to Starscream sounded like a nightmare. At least here in the Autobots he was mostly confined to scouting and other simple things that he could do at his own speed, while the Decepticon's far superior aerial military would probably push him to levels he very much was NOT comfortable with. That right there was a huge deterrent for the other side and was a point against them, the idea nauseating given his fear of heights that had been formed once he got to Earth. That leap from the shuttle was an experience he never wanted to confront again, and a dead drop after failing at something mid-air would repeat it easily enough. Because of this, Carbine locked down on to the next bit, offering a muted reply.

"You got your̢ o͡wn helicopters? I d-doubt you ha͘ve ͏à blimp."

The last one was obviously a joke, a weak smirk heard in his voice given the fact that such a decision would be... well... it would be so incredibly comically useless and absurd. There were so many ways that would backfire, and in any combat situation they would be a shining beacon in the sky of 'shoot me I am target practice!' that would result in death. Someone that dumb would have been purged by the war machine countless years prior unless they were a scientist who would never have a chance to even leave the base to begin with.

Regretfully, there was a missed opportunity then due to a lack of proper phrasing. Carbine would have loved to hear more about what made the Decepticons a winning team, only, his choice of words implied otherwise. He was simply declaring that he didn't need vital intel like the base entry codes or anything else silly like that to assure Knock Out he wasn’t information milling... even if he was... though he aimed wrong. It was what it was, however, and he moved to the next topic to try to continue to build up their 'friendship' by pissing away time since they'd have so much of it to spare as captives.

"Thundercloud w-wanted to com̶e he͝re w͟-̀w͞hen he ͜h͟e̶ard Optimus' call. All about being noblè and ̢do͠ing the right thing."

Carbine crooked his helm some with an implied roll of the eyes before continuing, saying the name of the planet he had been on with a longing tone, flowing into an explanation of why he missed it so.

"- It wa̛s̴ a̡ pla̴ce whe͏r̛e o͜ur kind may n-not have been seen in the best of l-light, but yơu c̨o͠uld still c͘a̶rv̡e a name for yourself w-with the right contacts."

Someone could offer Carbine two jobs, one completely legitimate with standard pay and reliability, and then one with less than legal options that were high risk of something severely backfiring with the outcome being far more lucrative, and he would pick the second one at any given opportunity. Perhaps it was misguided, perhaps it was an addiction to the danger of it all that surpassed logic, yet whatever it ended up being it was the very thing that landed him in Garrus, and the very thing that would have likely landed him in a similar place on that world. This said, Carbine wagered that their prisons would be a cakewalk versus that hellhole, so he could treat it as a mini vacation before going right back to what he was doing with newfound knowledge on how to avoid it all. This was even more so if they didn't fully understand how long their lifespans were, a devastating sentence that'd take up a notable chunk of someone's existence, instead being a momentary blip on the radar.

"If the war e-ends and you are still alive, or if you g͠r̛o͟w͏ bor̕e͏d a͠nd f̵uck off, you sh-should check it out. Take me with you if y͘o͏u d̵o ͝thou͘gh, ͏I͠'ll̛ s̛-show you around."