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Who: Knock Out and Breakdown
Where: The Decepticon warship medibay
When: March 9th, eveningish
What: Knock Out finally attaches Breakdown's new arm.
Warnings: ROBOT SURGERY. it's probably gonna get a little gay

It had taken some time for him to gather all of the materials, but after a little careful theft of human technology and with Gemini's help -- and he'll acknowledge that, if a little begrudgingly -- Knock Out finally has all of the materials and the tools necessary to build Breakdown a proper new arm, one his partner deserves. It takes him the better part of a day to finish constructing it, and for once the Decepticon medic isn't out and about in the corridors of the warship or playing truant in the city. He's more or less shut himself up in the medibay, murmuring and humming lightly to himself as he labors over his worktable.

By Sunday evening, it's ready for implementation. Breakdown doesn't bother second-guessing Knock Out when he preps him for sedation, doesn't even look worried, and that confidence, that trust alone brightens Knock Out's spark. Breakdown has nothing to worry about, because they've done this many times before. This is far from the first time Knock Out has replaced a part of Breakdown, let alone one made by his own hand. Of course, Breakdown's never gone so long without proper treatment, and Knock Out's never had so little to work with...but it doesn't matter. This is familiar, by now.

The surgery takes some time, because Knock Out is thorough, if nothing else. He works diligently at seamlessly connecting cabling and articulators, carefully soldering plating, and by the time he's done, he has to stand back to admire his own work for a moment. There's a certain beauty in the symmetry he's managed to achieve -- oh, you can tell it's not Breakdown's original arm if you look closely enough, the materials aren't quite right...but there'll be no doubt about its functionality. Knock Out had even managed to match the paint fairly closely to the rest of Breakdown's plating, although it's a little off, more so for the fact that it desperately needs a good buff and wax. Even Knock Out knows there's no point in polishing before a surgery. He'll take care of that for Breakdown later.

When the sedative wears off and Breakdown comes to, Knock Out's at his side, carefully cleaning the last traces of energon from his hands with a cloth. His optics flick to Breakdown's face and he smiles, pleased.

"Ah, and the patient is awake," he says lightly, though he's watching Breakdown intently. "Try not to move too much just yet -- your welds are still fresh. How do you feel, hmm?"

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Breakdown comes online again slowly as his systems struggle to pull out from the anesthetic. His optics flicker a few times, and the first thing he clearly sees is Knock Out. His processor is still moving sluggishly, and for a few seconds he can't quite remember where they are — on their ship, maybe, Knock Out has just finished patching him from one of his little run-ins with Bulkhead — but then it comes back to him. He lifts his arm, the one that had been previously missing, and turns his head to look it over.

It looks good. It looks really good.

He flexes his fingers a few times, makes a fist, and then starts to grin. "I feel great," he says, already pushing himself up into a seated position. He transforms the new hand into a hammer, and the grin spreads. Beautiful. "Better than great. You're a fraggin' miracle worker, Doc."

"Take it easy now, big guy," Knock Out advises, but he's grinning, optics bright and sharp as he watches Breakdown test out the new arm. Breakdown's elation at his new arm is all the confirmation Knock Out needs to know he's done a fantastic job yet again. "Mm, I did outdo myself, didn't I? Especially with having to scrounge for supplies as we did...ah, but the real miracle would be replacing your optic." He grimaces momentarily -- even with the proper facilities, that'd be a much more difficult undertaking than replacing an arm. But the unhappy look on his face melts away the next minute, replaced again with that self-satisfied smile.

"At least you won't have to keep catching your spare tire," he tells Breakdown as he checks his scanner, verifying that all of his partner's vitals are in line. They are, of course -- Knock Out has always taken good care of Breakdown, and besides that, he's a tough mech. It takes a lot to knock him down a notch or two. "Now, let me just make sure everything's all in working order before you get off that slab...give me your hand, hmm?"

He makes an impatient noise — he'd rather make sure everything's all in working order his way — but he obediently transforms his hand back again and holds it out for Knock Out. He has at least enough patience to allow this, if it doesn't take long, before he gets to it testing things his way.

"I don't want the optic replaced," he says flatly, grin fading for a second. "I'll keep it like it is."

It makes for a good reminder, after all. A reminder of what happens when he lets himself get soft, a reminder of the debt he owes TRIDENT.

Knock Out frowns, lips almost pursed. It's not as though there's any chance he'll get the tools or the means to give Breakdown a new optic any time soon -- certainly not as long as they're on this planet -- but it's the principle of the thing all the same. "Don't you worry, Breakdown. We'll see to it that those humans pay for their arrogance," he says reasonably, as if soothing him. "You have my word on that. But that's no reason to leave yourself so...maimed. Why not fix the optic -- if you ever have the chance, that is -- wouldn't that really stick it to them? Show them that no filthy organics can keep a mech like you down. Of course, I'm sure we'll send the message clear enough when we crush them like the lowly insects they are..."

He knows he's pressing Breakdown, but there's just something about the idea of leaving Breakdown's optic the way it is that strikes him as deeply wrong. It feels like leaving him incomplete, as though he's left his work only half-finished.

He doesn't consider it longer than half a second before he's shaking his head.

"No," he says, not even thoughtfully, but like it's a matter of a simple answer that doesn't even warrant discussion. "The patch is fine. You done there yet?" He flexes his hand as he asks it, eager to have it back again. And already his frown is fading, the look of eager excitement coming back as he watches his brand new fingers work.

Knock Out's still frowning slightly as he turns Breakdown's hand over critically inspecting the way his plating moves as he flexes his hand. After a moment, he relinquishes his grasp on it and stands back a little, glancing at Breakdown's face. Breakdown always has been stubborn on certain points...Knock Out doesn't see much sense in pushing the point, not now, anyway. "Mm, you're good on the hand. Rotate your arm at the shoulder for me, will you? But slowly."

He'd started to heft his arm up for a quick swing, but pauses as Knock Out's correction stops him, and sighs. He might stand firm on some things, but he knows when to follow the doctor's orders. So he does it slow, left hand on his right shoulder as he swings his arm around.

"It's great," he protests, even as he goes through with it. "It feels perfect. Not even a screw untightened."

Seeing how pleased with the arm Breakdown is mollifies Knock Out, at least, and he smiles again, optics brightening. "Glad to hear it," he all but purrs, running a hand lightly over Breakdown's new arm. He is pretty pleased with himself. "Just make sure you let those fresh welds heal before you do anything strenuous, hmm? I'm sure you wouldn't want to injure your new arm so quickly."

He turns halfway away from the operating slab, as if to head for the door, but he pauses and looks at Breakdown, his grin broadening. "Now, I think we ought to do something about the finish..."

"Aw, the finish is fine." It's not, and he knows it's not anywhere near Knock Out's standards, but he's still fine with it. It's the arm itself that matters. He pulls himself fully to his feet and pounds his fist into his new palm with a resounding clang, grin spreading over his face again.

"You think pounding the scrap outta TRIDENT counts as strenuous?" It's only mostly a joke; if he got the chance he'd take it. Even just the idea brightens his mood even more, and the glow in his remaining yellow optic is bright and excited. He glances around for something heavy, settles on the berth itself, and turns to reach and tilt it up with his new arm. It rises without a hitch, and the grin grows.

Knock Out's optics light up even more as he watches Breakdown lift the operating berth off the ground. Breakdown really shouldn't be doing any heavy lifting so soon after surgery, yes, but Knock Out's spark still swells with proud satisfaction. Ah, he's really outdone himself this time.

"Have a little patience, Breakdown," he coaxes, smirking. "TRIDENT will get theirs in due time, I promise. Besides, we still need to wait for our little friend to get himself up to par...and by the time you're both ready, TRIDENT won't know what's hit them." He grins, showing teeth. He's planning on doing some damage of his own, of course, but it'll be a good deal more...up close and personal. He's certain he could do with removing a few non-essential parts from those filthy humans before he kills them would be in order -- an eye and an arm, perhaps.

He sets the berth down and is again glancing around for something heavy — his eye falls on Knock Out, brightening all over again with a fresh idea.

"Oh, they'll know. I'll make sure they know just who it was." He steps over to Knock Out, sets a hand at each side, and lifts him fully off the ground. It comes with a broad smile and a showy spin, only half to convince himself he can do it. The other half is definitely for his audience. So much for taking it easy with his new arm. "This whole planet'll know better than to mess with us!"

If it were anyone other than Breakdown, they wouldn't have gotten away with a move like that. Grabbing him bodily like that without warning? That's usually grounds for a saw blade to the arm. But Knock Out has always made exceptions where Breakdown is concerned, and all that happens is that his optics widen slightly as Breakdown spins him around, and he resets his vocalizer with a prim little noise once his feet are on the ground, as though to maintain some outward sense of dignity. "Watch the finish, now," he says mildly, but there's no real weight to it, and he's still smiling.

"We will make them regret what they've done to you," he adds in a promisingly menacing tone, crossing over to a storage compartment in the medibay to retrieve his buffer. Breakdown can say what he wants about the finish, but Knock Out's not going to feel like his work is done until that arm shines. There's a glint in his optics, hard and intent. "Make no mistake, Breakdown...I've got more than a few ways in mind to make them suffer for it."

He grins happily after him, amused that his roughhousing got such a mild rebuke. Not that he really would have expected otherwise, not by now. And... well, fine, is buffing is apparently unavoidable, Breakdown may as well settle down and enjoy it. Sure, it's just going to get immediately scuffed up again anyway, but if it'll make Knock Out happy. He leans back against the berth.

"Yeah, I bet you do." Breakdown may leave greater swaths of destruction in his wake when he really gets going, but that doesn't mean Knock Out isn't just as devastating, if in a different way. It's one of the many things Breakdown appreciates about him. "I'll have front row seats to it."

Knock Out sets the buffer and his personal stash of wax on the edge of the berth, a polishing cloth slung over his shoulder. He chuckles darkly, smiling viciously at Breakdown. "Oh, I guarantee it," he says, just a touch of a growl to his voice. "You deserve to watch, after all. It's the very least I can do after all that time you spent rusting in a TRIDENT cell without my even knowing about it."

With the slightly guilty, uneasy look that flits across his face for just a moment, it's about as close to a sincere apology as Knock Out usually gets. With a look of absolute resolution, he picks up the cloth to dab away a few smears of energon he'd missed earlier before he fires up the buffer.

His smile is grim, but no less pleased — until he notices that uneasy look in Knock Out. It takes him a few seconds, but it's not a difficult connection to make. Not knowing Knock Out like he does. He holds out his arm for the buffer, taking a few seconds as he does to figure out how to put words to his thought.

"You couldn't have known, anyway," is what he eventually settles on. "The first thing they took offline was my comm link." He lifts his other arm, giving Knock Out's shoulder a nudge that's meant to be jovial, but comes out a little softer than that. "So don't worry about it."

Breakdown's assurances mean more than most. Still, though he might not come right out and say it, part of him does feel responsible for Breakdown's extended stay with TRIDENT. It's the only thing he's sincerely sorry about. He doesn't feel particularly bad about his Decepticon truancy beyond the immediate consequences at Megatron's hands. But Breakdown...well, they've always looked out for one another, and Knock Out had dropped the ball in a bag way.

"Mmm," is all he says, rather noncommittally, as he runs the buffer over Breakdown's arm, falling silent for a moment as he just focuses on the task at hand. Then he smiles slightly, that hard edge still in his optics. "Well," he says lightly then, "it's in the past now anyway, isn't it? We'll just have to make sure we make up for lost time."

He thinks the lives of the TRIDENT scientists responsible for Breakdown's condition when they'd met up again should be a nice start.

"Yeah, exactly." He watches Knock Out a while longer though, wondering if he'd gotten his point across well enough. He doesn't blame Knock Out. All he cares about is that, when he finally got out, Knock Out was there. He drops his hand again, resting it against the berth next to him as Knock Out works with the buffer.

Maybe he didn't say it very well, but he can still prove it with actions. Those always came easier to him, anyway.

"Hey, after this — want to drive?" It's been a while since he could really go all out, without worrying that his makeshift spare would wobble off. Surfing down a few dunes sounds pretty good right about now.

Knock Out finally smiles at that -- slow and small at first, but it's clear he likes the idea. He runs the buffer over the blocky curvature of Breakdown's shoulder, leaning forward and rising a little on his feet just to reach. "I think I do," he says decisively, his optics lighting up a little. Yes, a nice drive with Breakdown -- a proper drive -- that does sound like it'd brighten his spark a bit. It's been a long time since they had a real drive together. "Yes, I'm sure you could use an opportunity to use your once again complete alt mode. And you know I never say no to a drive."

"I was counting on it," he says with a renewed grin, even as he stoops and leans one shoulder down to allow him better access. It's good to see one of those smiles that Knock Out actually means on his face. Not that he doesn't appreciate the malicious ones — just, this one means he said the right thing. He's content with that.

It's evening, well after dark when Knock Out and Breakdown slip out of the Decepticon warship for a little joyride of their own. It's likely that Megatron doesn't exactly approve of their little jaunts outside of their base, but as long as he's out of harm's way, lately Knock Out could give a frag what Megatron approves of, and he and Breakdown are still riding high on the mutual exhilaration of Breakdown's newly attached arm. They've gone out on midnight rides every night since the surgery, at first under the pretense of some kind of physical therapy -- Breakdown needs to be rehabilitated, of course, as Knock Out is perfectly prepared to tell either of his superiors -- but if they're perfectly honest with themselves, they're just doing it because it's fun, and it's been a long time since the two of them have had this kind of opportunity. Even before Earth, they'd spent most of their time in the ship, with no road under their tires. Things are finally starting to look up for the two of them here.

Knock Out's engine roars exuberantly as they drive through the Mojave, kicking up clouds of dust as he circles wide around the area, turning to come up alongside his partner. Breakdown's never really been a match for him when it comes to speed, but Knock Out has never really minded that much.

"Feels good to have all four tires on the ground again, doesn't it?"

Breakdown's engine growls as he flies over a small dune, catching a few feet of air. He lands heavy and skids, then promptly starts forward again. He can't match Knock Out's speed, never could, and doesn't bother anymore. Knock Out never gets too far away from him, anyway.

"Haha, you see that one? Not bad for a ramp made outta sand!" Should be answer enough to the question, because yes, it feels great to have all four tires on the ground again. No more juggling acts with his spare, no more taking it easy for his axel. He cuts a wide turn, spraying up a sheet of dust and grit.

It really puts a jump in Knock Out's spark to see Breakdown just plain enjoying himself. He doesn't even really mind as some of the sand sprays in his direction -- he just drives out of the way, shaking it off as he circles around in front of Breakdown again, and lets out a low, pleased chuckle.

"Not bad at all," Knock Out agrees, cutting deep tracks in the sand. This really isn't the sort of terrain his tires were made for, and he could be going faster, but Breakdown is a lot more all-terrain than he is. He'd like to get to a road, but he can be patient enough to let his partner play around in the sand for a bit first. "But I bet you could get some real air out of something a little more solid...hm?"

His attention is pulled away from Breakdown as he spots something trekking across the sand in the distance -- a whole crowd of somethings, in fact. They're small, smaller even than some of the local sentient organics, but they're moving quite deliberately through the desert -- and fast, at that. Hm. He'd thought the desert was inhospitable enough to keep most of the fleshies away.

"Do you see that, Breakdown?" he says, his voice more idly curious than concerned. "And here I thought we had this whole sandtrap to ourselves."

A rearview mirror cocks to check out whatever it is Knock Out sees behind him, and a second later his engine revs to send him in a quick arc to see it more directly. Huh. He can't place them, whatever they are. He hasn't seen too much of the non-sentient life on this planet though, so that's not all that surprising.

"Huh. You recognize them?" More mildly curious than anything else. They're probably interesting, but he's more eager to keep driving.

"No," Knock Out says, sounding bored, but he keeps watching them for a few seconds, until it becomes apparent that they're heading straight for his and Breakdown's location. He pulls back a few feet, slowly, inching closer to Breakdown. Anyone else would have perceived that move as afraid -- but Knock Out's not afraid, just cautious, and he and Breakdown have always fared better when they stick together. His engine rumbles quietly, almost tersely.

"Whatever they are, they're heading straight for us," he says, his voice sharper, a little more alive. He's interested, at least. "And by Primus, are they ugly..."

"I doubt they're coming to shop for cars," he says, by way of announcing intent to break cover. Besides, they aren't human, so who cares? And normally Breakdown wouldn't mind a group of somethings headed for them and looking nasty — he'd welcome the fight — but these somethings don't really look like much of a challenge. So when he transforms, it's with the huff of a resigned ventilation.

He straightens, pounds one fist menacingly into the other, and watches the things approach steadily. Maybe he won't even need his hammer for this.

If they were closer to the city, Knock Out would disagree with the decision to break cover, but out in the middle of the desert seems fair game, and as the creatures approach, far faster than he's really comfortably, it becomes increasingly obvious that they aren't human. Knock Out doesn't know what they are, but they all look pretty disgusting to him.

"Well, well," he says as he transforms in a whirl of red and silver plating, his hand already cycling into his saw. "Looks like we've got company...well, as your gracious hosts to this particular patch of desert, let me welc -- "

Whatever the rest of that undoubtedly witty quip is supposed to be, Knock Out doesn't have a chance to finish it, because before he gets the chance, several of the creepy mutants raise their assorted appendages and open fire on him.

Well, at least they apparently have guns. That might give them a fighting chance — or at least make it so the fight isn't over instantly. "Doesn't look like they're interested in the tour," he says through a familiar growing grin. "So let's just get down to business, huh?"

Breakdown transforms his newly replaced hand into its hammer mode and folds out the shoulder-mounted blaster to give them a little return fire. He edges a little nearer to Knock Out as he fires on the creatures, to provide some cover; his finish can take some gunplay more easily, after all.

As always, Knock Out is grateful for the assist, although it comes a little late. His finish is already marred from a few successful shots, and he snarls as he draws in closer to Breakdown, unabashedly using his partner as a shield. That's always been the arrangement, after all.

Unfortunately, that only works for so long. There's a veritable horde of these ugly creatures, and they quickly start to surround the two Decepticons, forming a loose ring around them that's drawing tighter. Knock Out shifts, his back to Breakdown's now, his saw blades out and ready.

"This is starting to look a little ugly," he notes, his voice casual, but his optics are sharp. Not good.

Breakdown just grunts, still not too worried about it. They're surrounded, sure, but they're just... half-organics, too short to be much of a threat. (Except — his mind flits briefly to TRIDENT. They weren't much of a threat either, right up until they were.) He takes a step back, closer to Knock Out.

"Just looks like they're lining up for an easy swing to me," he growls, but nonetheless cocks a glance back at Knock Out for direction. Do they fight? Or head out?

There isn't a way out, not anymore. The cyborg mutants have closed in tight, forming a ring around the two Decepticons at least two bodies deep in most places. There's something distinctly unnerving about their vacant, empty eyes and postures. There's no intelligence there -- just a single purpose. Knock Out doesn't have a good feeling about whatever it is.

"Not so easy," he says tersely, optics darting around as the cyborgs close in. "Concentrate your fire in one place -- we'll break through and make a break for -- "

Whether the cyborg mutants have caught onto his plan or if it's just bad timing, it's not clear. Several of them launch forward at Knock Out, some shooting, others leaping to bodily hurl themselves at him. Knock Out lets out a tight, strangled noise of surprise and slashes at them with his saw blades, but it only does so much -- more are joining the fray, intent on swarming him and Breakdown both.

"Argh! Get -- off, you -- vermin -- "

Breakdown growls, starting to find all the shooting annoying. Most of it pings off of his armor, but here and there a bullet stings. And it's going to be hours with a buffer, for Knock Out. So he welcomes it when they officially start the fight, and flings himself into it with gusto. He grabs after cyborgs that leap up, catching hold of a leg or a torso, and slams them back down into the ground. They either get stepped on or hammered flat, depending on the angle. His attack takes him a ways away from Knock Out, so he turns shortly and begins using his shoulder blaster to pick a few off of his partner. To try to, anyway. A few leapers jar him, and one of his shots hits Knock Out's shoulder instead of the creature he'd been aiming at.

"Scrap. Sorry." He breaks from the shooting, pulling a few more off of himself.

"Argh -- Breakdown!" It's a snappish sort of yelp, half
agitation and half surprised pain as one of the mutant cyborgs starts
digging into his shoulder plating, its sharp claws trying to find the
seams and, apparently, tear out some of the metal. His finish is going
to be completely trashed if he doesn't get these things off of him
soon. He swipes at it with his saw blade, but it's an odd angle to
reach for. Breakdown is obviously having an easier time with these
things than he is. "I need you to help, not -- not -- what the
frag are these things? There's no end to them!"

He pulls a few more off of his plating, crushes them into the sand below, and starts toward Knock Out. He only makes it a few steps though, when he staggers from the weight of a joint attack from behind.

"I'm trying," he growls, unhappy to have to turn his back on Knock Out again to address this newest threat. It's a laborious process, pulling each one off and then destroying it. They jump around so much, half the time it's gone before he can get his hammer down on it. "Just hang on, I'll be there in a second."

Or... a little longer than a second, maybe. It's not going very well over here, either.

It's not enough -- Knock Out can feel himself being overtaken by the swarm of strange cyborgs, no matter how many of them he slices with his saw. They're relentless. Knock Out's always considered himself good in a fight, but that had always been against the Autobots -- things a lot closer to his size. It's hard to punch out two dozen small, mindless creatures that are crawling all over you, clinging to your plating and getting in through fine seams in your plating --

"That hurts," he snarls viciously, swatting at the two cyborgs who are apparently trying to dismantle his knee joint, but it's not enough. Even with both hands cycled into saws he can't seem to slice them up fast enough, and a thin edge of alarm creeps into his voice.

"Breakdown!"

He's starting to feel a little panic himself. Not for himself — he's still pretty sure he could transform and barrel through these things to get away, if he had to — but he wouldn't be able to take Knock Out with him, whose less hardly alt mode might not make it. He roars, frustrated and wordless, as he works, inching his way closer to Knock Out when he can. They seem to be actively trying to keep them apart by now, though.

"Knock Out!" He's almost close enough, and stretches his hand out to reach his partner — which is when two of the creatures bring forward a middling-sized device from somewhere. Breakdown hardly even sees them through the chaos, but he definitely feels it when a clamp from the machine reaches for his right leg, and starts pumping electricity into him as soon as it makes contact. His joints seize up almost at once, circuity shorting out as a dozen error readouts pop up then fizzle out across his HUD. He yells, then topples under the weight of five more cyborgs, who leap onto him as soon as the charge dies out. The light's out from his optic even before he hits the ground.

Scrap.

Breakdown goes down with a heavy thud, and Knock Out isn't far behind him. His spark chamber is tight with rising panic now that Breakdown's down for the count -- how is he supposed to get himself out of this mess now? He can't do it alone, not without his bodyguard, his partner. Letting out a ragged, staticky yell, he claws desperately at the cyborgs swarming him, trying to shake them off, but before long another clamp from the machine closes around his leg, sending a heavy shock through his systems to knock them all offline. His vocalizer cuts out mid-cry and he collapses to the ground with a resounding clank, his optics flickering out.

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CYBORG MUTANT EVENT - A FEW DAYS LATER

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that was a good icon choice :]

(B

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