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"Wow, seriously? Again?" Her indignation is short-lived; ignoring the indication that he's about to leave at any second, she continues, taking on a more playful, intentionally needling tone. "What are you so busy with anyway, then? Every time I see you you're all 'no, fuck off, I gotta do robot things'. Are you ever not running off to do some shady crap?"

"My business is none of yours," snaps Knock Out, impatient with the fact that he apparently can't shake this human on his own terms, no matter what he does. He revs his engine a little, as much a threat as anything. "And more important than anything you've ever done, I'm sure. Whatever gave you the impression that I have the time to waste with you, or the inclination to bother? I don't fraternize with fleshies."

"Whoa, okay, could we just dial back on the personal insults here? For once?" Second time talking to him, granted, but that's enough to count as a pattern, right?

This time she does acknowledge the revving - but seems to kind of horribly misinterpret it. "And you're not going anywhere, got it? If you wanna get rid of me you're gonna have to try being polite for once!" With that, she reaches out, opens the door, and jumps into the passenger's seat, shutting the door behind her.

She crosses her arms smugly, clearly thinking she's won here. Somehow.

One of these days, he's going to learn to keep his doors locked.

Knock Out might have been impressed with Miko's attitude once, but today he's in no mood for her games. He can't just eject her from his cab -- much though he'd like to -- but Knock Out's been feeling tetchy, a little on edge, and Miko's unwittingly provided him with the perfect opportunity to blow off a little steam. He's been fairly hands-off with the local skinjobs -- saving most of his penchant for cruelty for the TRIDENT scientists who really have it coming -- but it might be time to cut a little loose. Warm up a little, so to speak. Oh, he's not going to kill her...but she could really stand to learn a few lessons about respecting her biggers and elders. Particularly the biggers and elders who are made of several tons of living metal.

The engine revs louder, mixed in with a dark, haughty chuckle in Knock Out's voice that seems to echo in his cab. "Oh, it's a ride you want, is it? Don't you humans have a saying for this? Careful what you wish for?"

His entire frame seems to jerk as he lurches forward, going from zero to sixty terrifyingly fast -- his tires squeal on the asphalt, blowing through a stop light before anyone can even take notice as he heads for the edge of the city. They'll need a little privacy.

"WHA- hey, whoa, what is this-" She's thrown against the back of the seat by the acceleration, clinging to the sides with both hands.

"Where are you taking me?!" There's almost more anger breaking into her voice than fear; she hadn't thought that he might actually be serious about all those threats, and even now it was only starting to really dawn on her as a possibility, and it was a possibility that she really, really hated.

"Somewhere we can have a considerably more private chat," Knock Out sneers, his voice smug and vicious all at once. The dashboard lights up as he speaks, its eerie red glow almost menacing as he speeds through the city streets with his fleshy little cargo in tow. Oh, she'll think twice about bothering him again once he's through with her -- he's sure of it. "That is what you wanted, isn't it? To talk?"

"Uh, yeah, but- talking doesn't really require you to basically kidnap me, does it!" She does not like this at all; she rests a hand tentatively on the door handle, legitimately wondering whether she could just kind of... open the door and jump out. He is going awfully fast, but she's considering taking her chances at this point.

"I'm sorry -- did you think you were in control of this situation?"

His voice echoes throughout the cab, the locks on both doors engaging with a snap. And just for good measure, the passenger side seat belt leaping out to buckle itself across her frame, just for good measure. Make no mistake -- it's not about safety, it's about keeping her just where she is.

"Because I'm the one calling the shots around here."

She struggles with the seat belt for a few seconds, but, of course, it won't come off.

"Look, just- let me go and we can forget this ever happened, okay?"

"Oh, no. I'm afraid not." Knock Out's voice is hardly regretful; if anything, it's cruel, coldly amused. "I warned you, didn't I? You had your chance."

Miko clenches her teeth, still clutching the seatbelt in both hands. She glares at the steering wheel and tightens her grip.

"Fine, then. You'll have to let me out eventually, just wait, and then- just wait."

Her voice totally isn't shaking. Not at all. Nope.

This is so much worse than being knocked out and kidnapped by a cyborg.

"Oh, I won't have to."

Another cold laugh echoes throughout the cab, deeply pleased by the obvious fear in her voice. Yes, that's right, he thinks viciously. She should be afraid. He'd put up with her before -- he's tolerated humans an awful lot, in fact, and he thinks he's had enough. That combined with his growing impatience to repay TRIDENT for their hospitality tenfold has made him restless, antsy. If he can teach this one human a lesson...well, that'll go a little ways toward relieving his tension.

His tires squeal to a halt near the outskirts of the city, the area mercifully empty of other humans. Knock Out knows he should be more discreet, knows that if Megatron knew he were indulging like this at the risk of being seen that he'd be in serious trouble, but he's incensed now. He transforms rapidly around Miko, so that she's sprawled in the palm of his hand -- he closes his claw-like fingers around her midsection before she can move, holding her up to eye level. He smiles, razorlike and thin.

"I can have my fun right now."

She yelps in alarm at the whirring and clanging of metal around her, and suddenly she's in a giant metal hand and oh fuck he's grabbed onto her. She swallows harshly, clutching at his fingers and ineffectively trying to loosen his grip so she can free herself, as she stares at him face-to-face.

"I, uh. I don't suppose that you'd be willing to accept that you've made your point?" She glances around, searching for anything that she could maybe use as a weapon - if she could only get free to begin with. "What- what are you planning to do, anyway?" She's not actually sure that she wants to hear the answer. Maybe she can stall him or something.

Knock Out's optics are bright, practically humming, and he grins at her, cold and dangerous. His fingers tighten around his captive prey, keeping her wriggling to a minimum. He's going to take his time with this one, he thinks.

"Oh, you'll find out," he says, voice like an oil slick on still water. He raises his free hand, cycling it into a vicious-looking drill. He's nearly twice Miko's height and much broader at that, but the drill isn't so large that he couldn't do some precision work. The drill whirs to life with a shrill whine, and he lets out a dark laugh. "Now, say ahh..."

The drill draws closer to Miko as he opens his fingers a little, just enough to expose her front -- he always has wondered what exactly lies inside those fleshy little bodies -- but when his drill is inches from her chest he jerks suddenly, letting out a snarling cry. Negative feedback floods his processor, ripping through his head and blotting out all else.

"Aaarghh!"

Knock Out buckles, dropping to his knees -- he drops Miko altogether, his hand going to clutch at his head. It's pain like he's never really felt before, not like this -- coming from inside rather than out, scattering a hundred dozen subroutines like a school of scared fish and making a mess of his processes.

She can only stare in horror at the advancing drill, then squeezes her eyes shut, drawing back as best she can, then-

Then she lands on the ground with a thud, giving an involuntary squeak and scrambling backward, away from Knock Out.

She stumbles to her feet, not sure whether to focus more on watching him or finding some way to defend herself. At the same time, it occurs to her that this is the third time an asshole robot has suddenly collapsed while talking to her (or threatening her, in this case). What the hell kind of pattern is this.

Knock Out lets out an enraged growl as the feedback subsides and he begins to recover, cycling out his drill for his saw. He doesn't know where that came from, but he's perfectly willing to blame the human. He staggers to his feet, optics ablaze with fresh purpose. No guarantees about letting the skinjob live now -- just as long as she suffers.

"Oh, no you don't," he snarls, closing in on her with a few short steps.

She hadn't expected him to recover from... whatever that was so quickly; she backs away again, but she obviously can't keep her distance forever, there's kind of a disparity in leg length here.

The moment he gets close to her, she drops down to grab a couple rocks off the ground - one she hurls at his leg, the other she holds up threateningly as she takes a couple more steps backward. "Hey, back off! I'm warning you!"

The rock clangs off Knock Out's plating, and while it doesn't do any damage, it does leave a nasty scratch. Knock Out's optics flash and his lip curls, his saw whirring with renewed thirst.

"Watch the finish," he growls, swinging his saw arm down --

And then he's staggering back with another thunderous howl of pain, his free hand going back to his head. There's that horrendous rush of negative feedback again, splitting his processor down the middle.

Miko gapes at Knock Out's second failed attack; she doesn't even back away this time, just stares as a grin creeps onto her face.

"Holy shit, you can't hurt me, can you?!" She crosses her arms as she watches him (she's still holding the second rock in one hand, she's not quite gonna give up her one weapon just yet, no matter how ineffective the first one was. Maybe she can get his face or something). "Ha, who doesn't have control now?"

She sure as hell isn't going to wonder why this is happening right now. As far as she's concerned, this isn't something that one should question; just be glad that it is happening. Even if it would have been even better if it had happened earlier, before he drove her to the outskirts of the city and tried to maim her.

Knock Out looks a horrendous mix of outraged and confused, optics glaring hot down at Miko, and his expression contorts into one of impotent fury as he tries to swing at her again but barely gets within arm's reach before the feedback hits him again. He lets out a howl of frustration and towers over her with slit optics. Inwardly his processor is doing double time to make sense of this -- something he's never encountered before.

"You," he snarls. "You -- what did you do to me?!"

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't do anything! I think." She holds up her hands reflexively, glaring up at him. "Look, if you don't know what this is, I can't help you out here! Not that I would anyway."

She's actually starting to have her suspicions at this point, considering that stuff like this seems to have been happening an awful lot since the whole cyborg jail deal...

For a long moment Knock Out looks enraged, disbelieving, like he might swing at her again, but he doesn't -- instead his optics go distant for a few seconds as he sifts through memory banks, comparing possibilities and outcomes...

That fragging AI.

That has to be it. Knock Out knows it did something to him, he'd just never been able to figure out what -- no wonder he couldn't find it. It must be buried deep in his brain, malicious code nestled in tight with the rest, seemingly innocuous, until triggered. His optics widen in shocked realization and then a whole new kind of rage dawns on him, and he staggers back with a furious howl.

"Aaarrgh!"

At first Miko thinks that this is the result of another surge of pain, but that doesn't seem quite right...

She remains where she is, not approaching him but not backing away either. "...Um. So, figured anything out?"

This whole day has gone in a really unexpected direction.

For a moment, Knock Out is paralyzed with the conflicting urge to do awful, terrible violence to this cocky little skinjob and the knowledge that he can't. He looks totally outraged, optics wide and flashing, teeth bared -- he looks for a moment as though he might try to just power through the pain and harm her anyway -- and then he lets out a guttural snarl of frustration and transforms quickly with an agitated snap of plating and immediately drives away, tires screeching.

"Whoa- hey, where're you going? What, you're just running away?!"

Apparently he is. Miko places her hands on her hips with an irritated huff and actually stomps her foot. "Fine, then! In fact you better run!"

Still scowling like a petulant child, she looks around and realizes that she... has no idea where she is. Great. She groans and drops her hands to her sides; apparently it's time to start walking.

[CLOSED]

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