I'm awake. Where's Knock Out.

"Doc?" "DOC??" "I could use a hand here, Doc!" He's scratched to pieces and leaking Energon, poor thing.

"...It's not my fault." He fell down a mountain. "These stupid organics don't label their roads well." He was speeding. "Just put me back together, will you?"

He rustled his plating, laying down on the berth and waiting for Knock Out to fix him. "Aw Doc, you'd never do something like that. Mostly 'cause you'd never be caught dead with a mech whose finish was all busted up."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be more careful, Doc." He laid back and took his optics offline, letting the Medic do his work. It was kind of like a sadistic spa treatment, which was the best kind.

"Hey hey, there's no need to get rough with me Doc! Not in here, anyway." He purred, getting off the berth and stretching before examining his finish. "Good as new, I owe ya one."

These organics are strange. They come in all shapes and sizes, but they make the same sound: Splat, when I'm rolling over them.

Another day, another Energon cache claimed for the Decepticon cause.

Awful quiet around here...