...

Welding

...

"Hey, I got a question...Are you still buddies? With Megatron, I mean..."

Soundwave blinked, and looked at the girl. The both were still in the storage bay, and this time they were attacking the next crate of seemingly never ending junk. This one was a large shipping container that held all manner of mechanical components, from motorcyle parts to broken tools, to simple nuts and bolts.

To be honest, Soundwave didn't know how to answer Miko's question. He was still loyal to the Decepticon cause, to the need for freedom and right to expression. But loyalty to Megatron? Soundwave's lips were pressed together in deep thought. Of course he was loyal to Megatron; after all, he was the driving force behind the Decepticons' struggle. But then Soundwave remembered his abdominal scar, his servo rising to brush against the wound automatically, and he felt his fuel tank sink.

"Soundwave: unsure...," he mumbled, as he looked down at his servos. "Soundwave: unable to adequately respond..."

Miko's face fell. "Oh...That's okay...I guess you just need to think it over, huh?"

"...Affirmative...,"

"Huh...," mumbled Miko, as silence descended upon the storage bay, save for the buzzing sound of Soundwave's tentacles. She sat and watched as the young mech's appendages snaked in and out, darting this way and that, delicately picking up each object with a near superhuman level of dexterity. It was almost like they were living entities themselves, independent of Soundwave somehow, and Miko simply couldn't take her eyes off of them. She quickly pulled out her sketchbook and pencils, and immediately began to capture the way those serpentine graspers moved this way and that. It was only halfway through her work when a thought occured to her...

"Hey...do you have any hobbies?"

Soundwave ceased his rummaging to stare at the girl. Why did it seem like she would never cease to catch him off guard?

"Query: Hobbies?"

"You know, stuff you do when you're bored out of your friggin' skull...Like how I play videogames, or rock out in my guitar, or just sit around sketching...You got anything like that?"

Soundwave stared for a full second, hesitant, before he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Affirmative..."

Blackout cursed under his breath as he plodded towards sick bay. Several Eradicon soldiers passing by would slow down and stare at the damage wrought upon the chopper's frame only to scurry away when Blackout glared at them; Blackout didn't like it when people stared.

He also didn't like the idea of going to sick bay. Why? Well, because of Knock Out, of course. Blackout couldn't quiet put his digit on it, but something about the medic just made him unlikeable. Maybe it was his tendency to take unnanounced excursions to the race tracks. Maybe it was the way he seemed to obsess over every superficial detail of his armor. Or maybe it was that creepy pedo smile he had going on. Who knows?

Blackout let out a barely audible groan as he padded the sick bay's doors open. There were already a few patients waiting for treatment, and Blackout also winced; even these troops had suffered a large amount of damage. There was one on berth six who had a leg that was so corroded, it looked like it would snap off at any moment. And there was another with its optical band completely shattered, possibly beyond repair. The other troops however, had wounds that were treatable on their own; they were situated near a row of medical cabinets tending to their injuries by themselves.

Blackout gave a sigh of relief as he approached the knot of troops; he was looking forward to releiving himself of some of the pain. "Welder, please," he said, his servo outstretched. The tool was handed to him without preamble, and Blackout sat down on the nearest crate to tend to his wounds. He started with his pedes, repairing the surface damage, and then moved upwards his frame, to the torso, chest and arms. He then opened up his chest plates and began repairing the internal damage to his inner framework, and was just about finished when the doors to the operating theater hissed open and the Knock Out himself strode out.

"Well, hello Blackout," greeted Knock Out, as he brushed his gleaming frame off of any nonexistent debris. "Got into a rather messy bit of business I see..."

Blackout glared; he really didn't like that pretentious grin the medic always seemd to have. "Shut your mouth, Knock Out," he growled, "Unlike you, I actually don't mind getting my servos dirty every once in a while..."

Knock Out rolled his optics, a clear sign of derision. "Whatever...Well, I'll be heading out now. Ciao!" And with that, he turned on his heel strut to leave the sick bay.

Blackout's mouth fell open. "Hey, wait a minute!" exclaimed the Pave-Low. "Where the hell are you going?! You've still got patients to look at!" He pointed at the two Eradicons, welder still in servo to emphasize his point. Both patients stiffened on their berths, and became still, and the knot of Eradicons near the cabinets became a little bit quieter.

Knockout gave an almost bored look to the two soldiers and smirked. "Oh, come now, Blackout, they're just the late comers," he chuckled "It's their fault for not paying attention to my schedule. And besides, I just got a new layer of polish done. Now, if you excuse me, I have race to attend."

Blackout snarled, intending to give the medic the sharpest reprimand he could think of, but he was too late; Knockout had already left, the doors to sick bay hissing shut.

"Oh, wow...So what is it?"

Soundwave hesitated, but then decided he was past the point of no return, and drew the tools out of his subspace. Miko's eyes widened as she set eyes on the welding and rivet guns, Soundwave's servos handling them with what was no doubt practiced ease. The Decepticon bit his lip, his optics scanning the mechanical parts haphazardly stuffed into the container, trying to find exactly what he was looking for. His black faceplate lit up when he saw what he was seeking, and his tentacles dived into the container once more.

Her sketchbook forgotten, Miko watched Soundwave extract various tiny (to him) components from the depths of the container-springs, bolts, screws and the like- with a speed she was sure wasn't possible, and deposit them right on top of another container's lid.

His rummaging done, Soundwave activated the tools in his servos, while his tentacles immediately went about positioning the parts. Miko could only breath a stunned "wow", as she watched Soundwave weld the components together, energon-blue sparks flying and cascading to the ground as the welding gun emmitted a metallic wine. The rivet gun soon came into play, pneumatic hissing and popping joining the cacophony of noise as Soundwave worked.

With a last whine of the welder, Soundwave stepped back, allowing Miko a clear view of the finished product. The girl sprang up and scampered towards the edge of her makeshift platform. With a few leaps from one container to the other, she finally reached her destination, and came to stand alongside Soundwave's creation.

Soundwave, through a process of careful engineering and sheer skill, had managed to build a humanoid figure composed entirely of the parts he had found; the forearms and forelegs were springs, the feet were tiny metal plates, and the head was a simple bolt. Nevertheless, it was the coolest thing Miko had ever seen.

"Woah...," she breathed, "You're a scrap metal sculptor?"

Soundwave raised a brow. "Query: Scrap metal sculptor?"

"Hells yeah! Dude, this is amazing! Ya know, there's a whole bunch of people around the world who can do stuff like this!" She quickly pulled out her phone, and flipped over to her image files. "Here, take a look..."

His curiosity piqued, Soundwave leaned forward, and his optics focused onto the images before him. To his astonishment, Soundwave saw that there, indeed, were other sculptors like himself. There was one sculpture made entirely out of bike chains and tire irons. There was another built in the likeness of a tank composed of nothing but pieces of metal Soundwave could not identify. And there was another that was built with steel pipes, cogs and sprockets.

Soundwave blinked, and he suddenly felt a surge of raw emotion threatening to break free, but he composed himself just in time. "Sculptures: Adequate?" he asked, his optics darting towards his creation.

"Adequate!?" hooted Miko, "Dude, this stuff is the tits! You should make more!"

Blackout finished the last of his repairs with a sigh, putting the welder back into its appropriate cabinet, and he stood up, stretching his relieved joints. The chopper was considering the idea of heading down to mess hall and grabbing a cube, when he sighted the two soldiers on their berths. Inwardly, Blackout winced. The one with the leg injury was even worse off than he remembered; his frame was vibrating slightly, and his optical band was dim. The blind one, the soldier with the broken optical band, however, was still.

To Blackout's own surprise, he felt a stab of pity for the Eradicons. So far, he had just seen them as identical footsoldiers, nondescript infantry at best, and he had never bothered with trying to say anything more than a few words to them. He looked around sick bay, noting that it was only he and the two soldiers in the room; the others had left after attending to their injuries. That, and Knockout still wasn't back from wherever the hells he'd gone off to.

Blackout sighed again and looked down at his servos, his crash-course in field medicine coming to mind. He preferred to keep his accumulated knowledge to himself, lest he be beset on all sides with favors and requests; he already had his servos full trying to fill Soundwave's position as Intelligence and Communications Officer. But the sight of the soldiers made Blackout reconsider.

His mind made up, he marched over to the one with the leg injury. The Eradicon was shivering slightly, most likely from pain, and he whispered things under his breath, as if praying, sending desperate hymnals to Primus. Blackout knelt down and examined the injury. "Alright, what happened to your knee?"

The Eradicon started, and he looked at Blackout, his optical band bright once more. "S-sorry?"

"Your knee. What happened to it?"

The soldier swallowed, and spoke, his voice shaky, "Mine cave-in...couldn't get out in time...energon shard in my knee...real bitch to get out..." He ceased his dialogue and groaned, his helm falling back to the berth. Blackout frowned quizzically at the injury, a single digit scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"I'll need to open up the armor around your knee," he said, "You okay with that?"

The trooper gave a quick nod in response. He was obviously desperate to be rid of the pain. With the soldier's permission affirmed, Blackout methodically undid the fastenings around the Eradicon's knee, and exposed the knee joint completely. Upon seeing the full extent of the injury, Blackout spat out a profane curse.

"Knockout, you bastard..."

Soundwave was at a loss for words. Make more? Was his hobby so well received to eleicit a demand like that? Suddenly, Soundwave felt a warm glowy feeling on the inside of his spark core, and his lips, depsite himself, were twitching upwards in a smile. "Soundwave: Flattered," he mumbled, feeling somewhat embarassed, his servo rubbing the back of his neck again. "Soundwave: Will indeed make more..."

"Fuck yeah, you should!" cheered Miko, "Man, I wish I could learn how to do stuff like that..."

Soundwave felt his faceplate heat up, but he said nothing, and subspaced his tools. Then, his optics picked out Miko's sketchbook still lying where she'd left it, and he felt a jolt of curiosity. "Your hobby: Sketching?"

Miko tore her eyes away from Soundwave's work, and she realised what Soundwave was looking at. "Uhh...yeah," she said nervously, "Yeah...I like sketching..."

Soundwave nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Permission to investigate?"

"Umm...Yeah, sure...I guess..."

Soundwave's tentacle uncoiled and reached out to gently grasp the sketchbook in its claws. He carefully lifted it up to his faceplate, and his optics zoomed in on its pages. His brows rose, and his mouth parted open in surprise. To be honest, he had no idea what Miko's style would be like; given their first few meetings, he had expected Miko's sketches to be somewhat childish. He was glad to be proved wrong; Miko's sketches were really something he fpund himself drawn to.

Especially her renditions of himself. Did he really have such a streamlined face? Were his optical brows really that thin? Was his frame really that skinny? And the way she managed to capture the sinuous movement of his tentacles on a two dimensional plane...astounding...

He flipped a page, and his optics widened in surprise. It was a pencil shading study, but the subject in question happened to be none other than a topless Jackson Darby. "Subject of sketch: Jackson?"

Miko, who had been busy examining Soundwave's sculpture, turned around, and when her eyes fell upon the page, she gave a small squeal. Soundwave watched, half alarmed, half amused, as Miko's face took on a red colour. "That-that's nothing! Give it back!"

Soundwave wasted no time in handing the book back to its flustered owner. The girl immediately hugged the book to her chest, epcheeks still red. Not wanting an awkward silence, Soundwave spoke. "Sketches: Well done. Skill: Noteworthy."

Miko shuffled around, her eyes locked on to Soundwave's optics in a 'you-really-mean-that?' kind of look. "Wow...uhh...thanks...no one's ever said that about my sketches before..."

"Miko: Most welcome."

The shard of unrefined energon that had pierced the soldier's knee joint had steadily reacted with the fluids that provided the articulator with its lubrication. The result was a slow, but corrosive, cocktail that slowly ate away at the joint, causing immense pain. The joint was now no more than a rusted over, corroded piece of scrap metal that, if Blackout hadn't come in the nick of time, would have led to the articulator being destroyed completely. And Knockout had the gall to saunter off on his racing expeditions!

There was no other choice: the knee joint would have to be replaced completely.

"I'm going to switch off your pain receptors, okay?" said Blackout, as soothingly as he could. The Eradicon only gave a weak noise, the closest he could get to an affirmative, and Blackout immediately began attaching the necessary cables and wires. The chopper hit the appropriate commands, and the Eradicon gave an elated sigh as the agony abated. Hs body was stiff no more, and he relaxed, his helm resting against the birth, optical band dim once more. That was all Blackout needed for him to carefully unscrew the energon fuel lines and detach the damaged knee joint. He placed the lower half of the soldier's leg on one side, and then he chucked the scrapped part into a waiting waste chute.

With that done, Blackout made a beeline for the parts storeroom, where he was sure the spare components were located. He keyed in his override, and the door slid open, and Blackout stopped short, aghast. The shelves within should have held spare parts and emergency supplies for the soldiers, should they need them. Instead, the shelves only held row upon row of nothing but neatly arranged containers of polish, paint, gloss, cleaning solutions and other carefully selected paraphernalia chosen for Knockout's personal use. Blackout swallowed, and he immediately checked the cabinet located next to it, and the cabinet next to that one...

In the end, he found the knee joint he was looking for, in a tiny box shoved into one corner, left to be forgotten so as not to distract the medic while he attended to his finish. In fact, now that Blackout thought about it, there was a surprising lack of anything that qualified as medical equipment in the sick bay. A sort of cold fury took hold of Blackout as he processed this. Did the medic even care for his responsibilities? Did he even have an iota of shame for the neglect his patients suffered? That said, just how did the Eradicons even last this long with a medic like Knockout tending to them?

Shaking his helm, Blackout headed back to the berths, were his patient was waiting. He carefully attached the new joint into the accomodating sockets and reattached the fuel lines and cables. His job done, he slotted the soldier's foreleg back into place and replaced the knee guard. He then removed the cables attached to the Eradicon's frame, bringing the soldier's pain receptors back online, and he slumped in the berth, a relieved sigh escaping him.

Ignoring his muttered thanks, Blackout then turned toward the one with the damaged optical band. "Alright, what about you?" he asked, as he drew closer. When the reply didn't come, Blackout frowned, and was about to tap the soldier on his helm to get his attention, when he noticed how still the Eradicon's frame had become. Sudden realization hit Blackout when his digits touched the now ice-cold metal skin, and he cursed.

The Eradicon had died, right there, on that berth, sightless and alone, under his nose.

Blackout's fists started to quiver and shake, not from fear, but from anger. To be honest, he didn't think much of the rank and file, considering them to be not worth talking to. But seeing one suffering pain and perishing in a place where he could have received help had shaken something loose inside the Pave-Low.

Blackout grit his denta, and for the umpteenth time that day, cursed Knockout's name.

I wanted to write in some more Miko and Soundwave bonding. Also, I wanted to write a little more on Blackout. And that's the story of how this chapter came to be...

Also, would someone please, please, please, pretty please draw a picture of Soundwave and Miko bonding?! Hey, it worked for Whatayamacholit, so why wouldn't it work for me?

-This is Zapwing, signing off.