capitalh | friends in low places

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friends in low places

Who: Sollux, Breakdown, and Knockout
Where: THE TRASH HEAP, where they belong
When: March 6th onward
What: Mingling while looking for spare parts.
Warnings: Everything you'd expect, most likely.

Having had time to grow more accustomed to having his powers back, Sollux almost seems wilder than before. Or more upset about something, at least. He hasn't brought anything up in particular to the two bots he's now working with, but they aren't quite at the point of total emotional intimacy, so it's not really a surprise.

Instead, he throws his effort into overturning vehicles and the like in scrap yards, looking for good bits of metal and supplies. Away from the city, Sollux spends almost all of his time in the air. It's a feeling he's been missing for far too long.

[OOC: I guess we can do this like party style, so we can have one on one threads but also group threads where necessary? IDK LET'S SEE.]

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Knock Out's still not sure how he feels about having the little troll along -- he simply doesn't let go of a grudge as easily as Breakdown does -- but he can't deny that Sollux will be an especially useful ally when they come up against TRIDENT, and maybe even beyond that. To that end, Knock Out will play nice for now.

That, and Breakdown seems to have taken a liking to him. Knock Out's never understood his partner's occasional fascination with organic life forms, but he'll humor it.

He glances at Sollux, who seems...well, he seems like he's in a mood. At any rate, he's certainly not shy about flinging his psionics around. Knock Out keeps a critical eye out for anything useful, though he's eyeing the Alternian too, a touch nervously. He hasn't forgotten Sollux's impressive display of power after he'd removed the inhibitor collar.

"Don't tire yourself out too quickly, Gemini," he calls out conversationally to him. "I expect we'll be at it a while -- it'd be a shame if you tuckered yourself out before we were even halfway done."

Sollux stops his searching for a moment, turning around to face the bot with a blank expression, though an ear is pricked up in interest.

"Nah," he says, waving a hand and casually flipping over another mound of rubbish. "This shit is easy. I can do this all night."

He's definitely gloating just a little bit.

"Hmmph," Knock Out murmurs, still watching Sollux with a sternly critical eye. "Still, I'd advise against overdoing it...we certainly don't need another display like your attempt at dismantling an entire mountain. Not that I'm afraid of the fleshies, but I'd prefer it if we could keep things discreet."

Rich talk, coming from the bot who'd transformed in front of several CONDOR agents, but he doesn't need any more exposure than he's already had. He's only lucky that Megatron hasn't found out about that little stunt...yet.

"Now, if I'm going to build Breakdown a suitable replacement arm, we need high grade materials. None of the cheap stuff, not for this."

Sollux frowns, mostly just ignoring Knock Out's nagging. He's been trying to work out this robot biology stuff for a while, and he has to admit, he is curious.

"Is it going to be a part of his body like the old one was?" he asks. "Or is it just like...if I made an arm out of plastic and stuck it on?"

"Of course it'll be part of his body," Knock Out sniffs, as though his pride is mildly affronted at the suggestion that he'd do anything less than a proper job on Breakdown. "I'm no hack, you know. Don't get me wrong, there are medics out there who barely qualify for the title -- trust me, you don't want to see what happens when a rewiring operation gets botched, having your wires crossed is no picnic -- but if I'm going to make a new arm for my partner, it's going to be fully functional. But that requires quality materials -- hence why I won't settle for just any scrap metal."

He guesses it makes sense - it's not like reconstructing a biological arm that could be fully integrated into the body would be impossible if you had the means and base materials. He's still not really sure about the robot voodoo that goes into making these guys like they are though.

"So his body will assimilate the new materials? That's pretty cool." He pauses only for a moment before continuing. "How do you guys get made anyway? Do other robots make you? You don't get birthed by other robots right, that would be sort of fucked. But like how do you guys propagate?"

He's actually really eager to know.

"Uh..." Knock Out squints at Sollux, as though trying to determine if the troll is serious. He sounds...awfully keen on learning about Cybertronian biology. The sudden spark of interest momentarily throws him -- he's never cared about the fleshies, so why would one of them care this much about how new Cybertronians are formed? But he lets out a derisive laugh, rolling his optics.

"Birthed? Primus, no. Our reproductive methods are far less disgusting than those of most organic life forms. I mean, could you imagine?" He makes a disgusted little noise with his vocalizer, shuddering. "All Cybertronian life begins with the AllSpark. How you define what that is, exactly, depends on your religious bent, but theological discussion aside..." He shrugs, a smooth roll of his shoulders. "Our planet and its surrounding moons were covered in what we call hot spots -- places where sparks are known to ignite and become new life. The AllSpark is responsible for these hot spots and the phenomena that surround them."

He smiles thinly, humorless. "Of course, our planet is a barren wasteland now, incapable of generating new life."

It maps to his own experience fairly easily. The AllSpark might be like the Mother Grub, except without the genetic contributions. The hot spots being the caves, essentially. It's interesting to think about.

And much like the AllSpark for robots, Alternia would be hopeless without the Mother Grub. Not that he wasn't already basically aware of the fate of Cybertron. He declines to comment on that for now.

"Okay, but if there's no genetics involved, then what even determines how new robots used to come out? Like, were you spawned looking like that?" he asks.

Knock Out had thought Sollux would be satisfied with that answer, but the troll just keeps on asking. It's not that he doesn't enjoy an opportunity to flout his own expertise, but he's still finding his patience with the little organic. He's so used to just brushing them off...or killing them. Either or.

"Well, there are plenty of theories," Knock Out says, surveying the scrapyard, and he begins sifting through a nearby heap of parts with an almost dainty touch, looking for anything he might be able to use in the way of medical supplies -- not just for Breakdown, but anyone. The ship is still barely stocked. "Some say it's purely environmental -- microreactions in the atmosphere around the spark as it ignites -- others say the AllSpark is random by nature. And there are plenty of claims in between. But unfortunately the well has run dry, so to speak."

Sollux flips over some more mounds of scrap, listening intently. He is genuinely fascinated by this subject - enough that he's asking despite the fact that he knows fully well Knock Out doesn't like him much. He's just that interested in knowing. School never explained this sort of thing, except in its relation to insults and slurs.

"That sucks man," he says, sounding actually put out by the idea. "You're a cool species. Do you guys know if there's anything you can do?"

Knock Out blinks, looking genuinely caught off guard by his sincerity, but he regains his composure quickly enough, an expression of cool disinterest settling more or less smoothly over his face. "To restore our wasted planet, so that it can begin to give new life again?" he says, a touch of scorn his voice -- but it's not directed at Sollux, for once. "Oh, I'm sure there is, somewhere out there -- again, there are many theories -- but of course, our entire race is too busy fighting a war for that sort of leisurely pursuit." He critically inspects what looks like a motor from a large home appliance and then tosses it over his shoulder with a carelessly disdainful little flick, spreading his hands. "And at that point, what can you really do?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He's already pretty damn familiar with the idea of being part of a civilization preoccupied with war, so he doesn't really question how that could out weight the survival of the species. "It's you versus the Autobots, right? The hell are you guys even warring about? You've been doing it since before Alternia gained space travel, practically."

"So they do teach you something useful in those schools of yours," Knock Out says with some vague trace of amusement, optics brightening slightly. "Yes, that's right, the Autobots. Optimus Prime and his self-righteous band of do-gooders -- or so they'd have the rest of us believe. Primus help us all if they decide to show up on this planet."

Sollux isn't quite sure what to make out of them being called self righteous do gooders. After all, that term is sort of weird in Alternian terms, and so he isn't sure how it related to Alternian culture. He decides to not draw any particular conclusions.

"Are they actually do gooders?" he asks, trying to narrow things down.

"That depends on who you ask," Knock Out says with a disdainful roll of his optics, his lip curling. "It's war, you know -- things are never so cut and dry. Oh, the Autobots claim to champion truth and justice and everything nice, and going only on his reputation, I'd say that Optimus Prime certainly tries to instill those values in his precious little soldiers. But it takes two to tango, or so I hear these humans say...you can only make war for so long if the other side doesn't fight back. And they do fight back, quite spiritedly." His optics glint, and he smiles thinly. It's not a pleasant smile. "They may say the Decepticons started the war, but the Autobots have kept it going for thousands of years. They're just as responsible for the destruction of our planet as we are."

Sollux listens to the explanation carefully, taking what he can from it, both objective and circumstantial. At a base level, Sollux could, or at least used to be, a 'do gooder' at heart. He probably wouldn't personally mind the Autobots, were he to ever meet them.

But he just doesn't really give a shit about wider robot politics at the moment. Breakdown has been kinder to him than most of his own species ever was, and from the way Knock Out talks about it, they're just looking out for their own people. It's a stance he can sympathize with.

"Sounds like something trolls would do," he says. "I think that's probably why the Condesce said that adult trolls aren't allowed to even be on our home planet anymore. Pretty sure those guys would ruin everything in no time."

He thinks dismally about the Sufferists for a moment, and Karkat's role in it. Could that end up the same way?

The concept of adulthood isn't really relevant to Knock Out, but he's familiar with the notion. "Perhaps," he says with a shrug. "Then again, Alternia hasn't been steeped in thousands of years of civil war...usually you lot stick to fragging up other aliens. You have the right idea there, for once," he adds with an edged smile. It's probably about the nicest thing he's ever said about the Alternians aloud, let alone to Sollux.

It's getting frustrating, digging for scraps with just one arm. He tells himself that it's to fix that little problem, and the fixing will probably be soon now — but it doesn't make keeping his temper reigned in all that much easier. He'd started their little dig in a good enough mood, but as time passes, so does the mood.

It's his third or fourth time discovering that the hulk of an old vehicle he'd meant to shove over and examine for parts is just a little too heavy for one arm alone, and this time he gives a dissatisfied growl when he rams his shoulder into it. Come on, stupid piece of scrap, just move.

Sollux only has to watch this for a few minutes before he makes the decision to come over and help shove it over. He's fairly discrete about it - just enough of a push that it lets Breakdown get it all the way over, instead of making a show out of how he's helping him. He's not trying to trick him, exactly, but there's not reason to make it into a big deal, either.

The robot is getting grumpy, and why Sollux isn't exactly in a great mood either, he feels compelled to try to do something about it. Risky business, when you're a troll.

"What do you guys even do when you're not flipping cars and kicking asses anyway," Sollux muses boredly, thinking of maybe distracting him a bit. "It's kind of hard to imagine hulking robot dudes just like hanging out."

He notices the help, if that quick shot of a glance from one yellow-glowing optic is any evidence. But Sollux doesn't mention it, and Breakdown is happy not to bring it up either. Instead the car crashes onto its back, and he promptly begins tearing apart the undercarriage for a better look into it.

"Yeah? Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about organics." He keeps his eye on his work, but there's a little amusement in the tone. Conversation is a pretty good distraction. "What do you even do besides eat, breathe, and sleep?"

"I shit sometimes too," he says, smirking as he starts rifling through another pile at a distance. "What about you, do robots shit? Don't you basically eat pure energy or something, because that sounds fucking fantastic to be honest."

He snorts as he plunges his arm elbow-deep into the mechanics of the car. It's all flimpsy scrap metal, nothing worth having as far as he can tell.

"You should be talking to the Doc about this stuff, he'll give you better answers." A beat, as he pulls out an engine component and regards it dispassionately. "But no, we don't shit. Not like organics."

"That's cool. You're not really missing out, I don't super recommend it. Doesn't make my top ten list of life experiences and I don't even have very good competition," he rambles, as he does when he talks for the sake of talking. None of the stuff here seems super interesting.

"I already have like a million questions to ask the Doc about your weird robot business, and as he's assured me, he doesn't have all day."

He grins at the thought of Knock Out pestered with questions like this. He just bets Knock Out doesn't have all day for it.

"The trick is to get him when he's working on something and doesn't have an excuse to walk off," he says, tone pitched just a little lower than usual. "But you didn't hear it from me."

"Wow, brutal backstab BD," he says, snickering. "Just throw him under the eight wheeler why don't you. He'll never stop me now."

He glances at the place where Breakdown's missing arm is, his eyes lingering for a moment. He's quick to distract himself, though.

"I dunno I just never knew any of the specifics about you guys. I guess I always kind of figured you're be like...moronic automatons, from the way Alternian history books talk about you." He pauses. "To be fair, they talk like that about pretty much every species they've ever been at war with."

He catches that glance, and firmly ignores it in favor of turning away, to pull the door off another nearby car. He reaches into the interior, testing the metal of the roof from the inside. It buckles without much effort; more junk.

"Yeah, well, you haven't met all of us yet, don't dismiss "moronic automaton" too fast." He glances over, yellow eye regarding Sollux thoughtfully. "I met a few of you guys, back when trolls and 'Cons had an understanding."

"Yeah, okay, fair enough," Sollux says, tearing a sheet of flimsy metal in half with his psionics in an attempt to test its strength. Also no good. "Is there some guy you mean in particular with that?"

Breakdown is probably talking about adults he'd met with, which could be a total mixed bag. Even Sollux only had a tiny amount of experience with that.

"With our guys there's all this caste bullshit so that would probably make a huge difference. Blood color or whatever. The fish guys are almost always assholes."

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friends in low places

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