re_alignment | voice, forward dated post rescue

Entry tags:

✘ tf: idw | starscream

voice, forward dated post rescue

[it is still not decepticon to admit weakness so this post sounds hella jovial]

Next time it looks like I want an all-expenses paid vacation to Cybertron-knows-where, I'm not going to risk it. I'll just book a few days off from whatever it is stressing my processor and do the mountain retreat thing. Or drink.

So. Giving due credit to the planet for an overdue and pretty decent assassination attempt - I think, still a little fuzzy on that, I'll get back to you - what else have I missed? Vandal, how's your flimsy excuse for a house, any stiff breezes take it down yet? Blurr, are you still overworking yourself? Miko, Knock Out, your friends ever turn up? Soundwave, I'm thinking Sinatra? It's human, but nobody's perfect, right?

Megatron--...

...Still here?

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[He sends a datapacket about when he's likely to be free--not long from the present time--and leaves it at that, because Knock Out's words are unusual, and they bear ruminating.

And at the appointed time, he's walking into the Medbay, looking around and deliberately avoiding if there are Autobots--or their acolytes--in the vicinity.

Call him paranoid.]

[Luckily for Starscream, there are no Autobots-- or acolytes-- in Knock Out's medbay. In fact, even calling it a 'medbay' is a bit of a misnomer. He does have a few racks of scavenged medical equipment, and there is a medslab, but the rest of the room really looks more like a workshop than anything else.]

Mm, punctual. I like that in a client~.

I had to rely on someone else's chronometer, that's knocked out too.

[dammit Starscream acts like a grumpy old man sometimes.

He sits over on the slab, looking around the room a little dubiously.]

Is it just me, or do you need a new supplier?

Eurgh. [KO grimaces showily.] That's always quite the inconvenience, isn't it?

[He follows Starscream's glance around the room, then shrugs.] It's not like I have storage depots or supply caches to raid, you know. And scrounging only turns up so much when half the junk out there is unusable.

[he actually swings his feet on the slab like a kid would, resting the flats of his hands to either side of himself, wings tucked back]

I'm not sure how useful a lot of Liege's equipment would be to you, but I can smuggle a couple things out. He wouldn't miss them.

Oooh, Liege has some rather nice things in those labs of his~. I certainly wouldn't object to a, ahem, charitable donation. [He grins brightly, obviously pleased by the prospect-- and obviously at least somewhat familiar with the facilities at Liege's temple.]

How can any artisan work without tools, right? [his own optics glow a little brighter--a tad nervous at the prospect of being under anyone's knife, but it's not like he can just go without navigation.

Plus his wings never got fixed from the last time.]

Exactly! They're out there, they just... have to be found. [He heaves a theatrical sigh and shakes his head, then perks up a little.] But of course I'm not entirely without recourse, and you are here for a reason.

So let's get started, shall we? I know you need your chronometer looked at, and you mentioned something about your nav, too?

[He wants to ask all sorts of personal questions about Knock Out and his deal and how he's the only Decepticon medic around, and that must be hard, but maybe it's best to wait until after he doesn't need help anymore to potentially annoy his doctor.]

I don't remember if they got shorted or just quit on me, if there's some kind of radiation out there... [see if he only had a brain.

He lies back against the slab and opens the relevant compartments, staring up at the ceiling. No stranger (and no objections, vainly) to getting looked at, though he prefers the times when he's out of it if there's going to be work done.]

You can probably pull it out and replace it if it's completely slagged. I'm not afraid of a little discomfort. [PRIDE]

[Knock Out hops up on the footrests ringing the base of the slab-- glad that this medberth, like the ones back home, accommodates for doctors of, ahem, certain statures-- and leans over Starscream to have a look. He's so used to macho posturing from his patients that he doesn't register the Seeker's declaration about pulling out the damaged components with anything more than a snort and an acerbic:] Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, hm?

In fact, I think you were right about the shorts. You've got some fried wiring in here....

[he taps his fingers against the side of the slab with clear irritation] I thought I had better shielding for my internals than that.

[welp that's embarrassing. He's also a, you know, a war mech, maybe not front line but certainly not a datapad pusher, so it's not like he's used to feeling fragile.]

How bad is it?

[KO leans over his open chassis again, taking another look.]

Let me put it this way-- I don't think it would have mattered how well-shielded your internals were. The damage in here is pretty extensive. Easily repaired, yes, but still extensive. Your wiring is fried.

Okay, okay, okayokay, message received, don't go into the Badlands, Lord Moron.

[he reaches up to rest a hand on Knock Out's shoulder, his voice a little lower] Or are you just showing off? "This is really bad, but it's easy to fix."

[Knock Out's eyes narrow. Don't patronize him, sir.]

It is bad. But it's also just wiring. Any half-trained field tech can replace damaged wiring.

And if I didn't think you were a talented medic, I wouldn't be here. [matter-of-factly] Fact is, you're about the only medic here I trust at all.

Can't say I blame you. The rest of them are Autobots.

[And that's all he needs to say, right? He hops down from the medslab and starts to round up the supplies he'll need.]

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voice, forward dated post rescue

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