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2015-02-27 Just a Scratch

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Just a Scratch
Date 2015/02/27
Location Lost Light: Science and Medical -- Medibay
Participants Knock Out, Rodimus
Plot Check Your Map
Summary Knock Out slaps a bandaid on Rodimus.

Lost Light: Science and Medical -- Medibay

Red crosses on the door identify at a quick glance the medibay. Inside, the forward medical bay contains a half-dozen slabs lining the sides of the room where the medical staff can take care of patients. There is a central slab as well, but the winches and pulleys, carts of tools, and life support machinery is all designed to be easily reconfigured to support any number of patients at any of the seven beds.

At the back of the room, there is a large work station dominated by a large screen that includes two holoemitters. Two doors at the back of the room lead to cold storage, where patients in need of better care than the medibay can provide -- rare as that is -- can be put into stasis. Offices for the medical officers are on the other side.


Knock Out is bored. You can tell by the way he has found a chair and sprawled all over it in truly melodramatic fashion. He twists. He turns. WHY IS EVERYONE (a small group) VISITING THE PLANET. He has finally resigned himself to playing with two of his more delicate instruments on one of the slabs, leaning forward lazily in a chair. Kiss kiss drills. Fight fight.

TIME TO UNBORED YOURSELF, KNOCK OUT. An alert from the planet gives Ratchet and Knock Out just enough time to fight for space in the Medibay before the landing party arrives. Rodimus leads the way in a few short minutes after that, having shed his little buddy on the nerd crew to make sure they don't accidentally kill it. Chromedome and Tailgate get priority, where priority means Ratchet: Rodimus is left to Knock Out, who he faces without enthusiasm. "So, don't cut anything off, okay? It's not that bad."

Knock Out manages to look even more bored by the time Rodimus is put in front of him. He glances somewhat forlornly at the /real/ medical procedures going on over there with Chromedome and Tailgate before his gaze slides reluctantly back to Rodimus. "It's a scratch," he says.

"Right. So don't cut anything off." Rodimus flops himself down on one of the slabs and shifts the angle his side toward Knock Out.

"I don't understand why you need professional medical attention for this," Knock Out perhaps clarifies.

"I probably don't," says Rodimus with a defensive prickle, a bristle, as though Knock Out is challenging his courage. "Just make sure it's not worse than it looks. Because sometimes that happens, and Autobots aren't in the practice of ignoring care and treatment of our fellow soldiers."

Knock Out is finally sighing and leaning forward to start taking a look when Rodimus adds that /last/ bit, which has him glaring. "You're really not doing much to recommend yourself to your medic here."

Rodimus smirks at Knock Out. "Think of it like this: clearly I trust you to do your job anyway."

"If you're trusting me to buff out a scratch while you sit insulting me, your trust is misplaced," Knock Out dries at him.

"Do you want me to compliment you? You'd probably think I was being insulting," says Rodimus, who would totally find a way to make it insulting.

"I /would/ appreciate you refraining from saying that I've left my comrades to die," Knock Out says, starting to really bristle.

Rodimus looks honestly taken aback by that. "I didn't say that!"

"'Autobots aren't in the habit of ignoring care and treatment of our fellow soldiers?'" Knock Out echoes back at him, deeply skeptical of Rodimus's innocence.

"And?" Rodimus looks at Knock Out with heavily reinforced innocence. "It's not like I said /you/ left anyone to /die/. But come on, everyone knows that Decepticons -- uh." He rethinks the wisdom of his current sentence midway through.

Knock Out offers Rodimus a very bland look. Everyone knows what, Rodimus. What.

Rodimus looks at the ceiling.

"I'm /so/ interested to hear what the end of that sentence is," Knock Out says.

Rodimus appears to consider the relative merits of playing dead to avoid answering, but after a moment, he drags out an exaggerated sigh and says, "--barely wait for them to stop twitching before stripping people for parts."

"It's a wonder any of us even survived," Knock Out replies with feigned nonchalance. While forcibly scraping a buffer over Rodimus's skin. Oops his bad.

"Ow -- ow! Primus!" Rodimus flinches back from the scrape of Knock Out's buffer. "Isn't the point of medibay that you come out in /better/ shape than you walked in, or is this another Autobot-slash-Decepticon point of confusion?"

"Oh, my apologies," Knock Out demurs. "Sometimes it's hard to resist the instinct to strip even the most mildly of injured bots." He pats Rodimus's injured skin gently. There, there. "Then again, the point of organ harvesting /is/ to save another's life when there's no longer a chance of saving the donor, so I hope no one becomes too injured." He resumes buffing with exaggerated care.

Rodimus flinches again at the first gentle pat before steeling himself. The second pat he endures. The careful buffing he endures. He watches Knock Out with an expression that fades toward something more thoughtful. "Look, maybe you weren't exactly slaughtering half your patients--" Maybe!! "--but the fact remains that the Autobots exercised a different standard of care."

"Funny, I don't recall ever seeing you in one of my medibays conducting observation," Knock Out murmurs thoughtfully.

Lifting his hand with an exasperated gesture, Rodimus subsides into silence, physically dropping the subject and brushing his hands.

"I can only aspire to be someone who has made self-sacrifices and none other, has never left a bot behind, etc., etc." Knock Out's humor runs out to boredom by the end, but at least his attention hasn't turned aggressive again.

The quality of Rodimus's silence becomes strained, tense, until finally he breaks his quiet: "Are you done yet?"

"Are /you/?" Knock Out wonders peaceably. He's so nice, Rodimus. So reasonable. How could you. Buff buff buff.

Rodimus glances longingly to the side where Ratchet treats the /actual/ injuries. Just think. He could be over there, getting yelled at, but nooo, he has to be heeere. With the Decepticon. "Yeah, I'm done. I didn't say a thing. I'm being completely /harmonious/."

"You all must be working off a different dictionary--" Knock Out finishes buffing and gives the area another pat, possibly just to see if Rodimus jumps again. "You're fine. As I said before, it was a scrape. I'm /not painting you/."

Rodimus does not jump again. He is a brave, courageous hero who fears no mad medic, no depraved Decepticon, not alliterative annoyances. He hops off the slab. "Right. Thanks!" is reflexive, he can't help himself, but it's still thanks.

"You're /so/ welcome," Knock Out purrs at him.

Rodimus ... retreats.

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