"Hate?" Knock Out sounds sort of amused, for all that he's still quite irritated that this witless skinjob hasn't gotten out of his cab yet. He lets out a low, dark chuckle that seems to resonate with the rumble of his engine. "Hate would imply that I care. As far as I'm concerned, you're nothing more than vermin -- little bugs that get underfoot all too easily. And don't flatter yourself by thinking it's just humans -- all organics are little more than a splatter on my windshield, if you catch my drift."