Certo. Mantengo il tuo canone: POV primordiale di "it", alternato al Collector, con l'altro operatore presente, aumentando la dinamicità fino al "What the... wreck?".
Chapter 1
Knock Out — POV
Warm.
...
Warm...
Always.
No before.
No after.
Only...
Warm.
...
Pressure.
Soft.
Holding.
Around.
Around...
Around...
No end.
...
A sound.
Not the deep one.
New.
Rubbing.
Slow.
The warm trembles.
...
Open.
...
Cold.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Warm leaving.
Need...
Warm.
...
Light.
Too much.
White.
Hurts.
No word.
Only...
Too much.
Narrator
The lower shell separated with a smooth mechanical hiss.
Dense nutrient fluid drained away beneath the chamber while sterile Cybertronian air rushed inside.
The sensors reacted immediately.
Temperature shift.
Neural ignition.
Motor response.
Vocal pathways.
Every value remained within protocol.
Knock Out — POV
Not warm.
Everywhere.
Touch.
Many touches.
Before...
One.
Now...
Many.
Many.
Many.
...
Heavy.
What...
Heavy?
...
Move.
No.
Again.
Tiny.
Again.
Tiny.
Limits.
Collector
"Yeah... there you are..."
Collector exhaled quietly before reaching for the energel gel.
A thin layer covered both servos.
"Come on..."
He flexed his fingers.
"Still nervous..."
Two apprenticeship cycles.
Hundreds of observations.
A few supervised deliveries.
Yet every newborn protoform made his spark race.
"Don't overthink it."
"Support the protohead."
"Support the rear."
"Never rush."
He repeated every instruction in silence.
"Okay..."
"You need me focused."
Knock Out — POV
Deep sound.
Again.
Known.
How...
Known?
...
Closer.
Closer.
Warm.
Warm returned.
Different warm.
Not everywhere.
Only...
Somewhere.
Holding.
Collector
Slowly.
Very slowly.
His servos entered the chamber.
One hand slipped beneath the flexible protohead.
The other supported the lower frame before any weight could strain the forming joints.
The tiny body yielded immediately.
"...Oh."
Collector blinked.
"Already uncurling, huh?"
A smile escaped him.
"Birthed one..."
The protoform instinctively folded closer against the source of warmth.
"Good..."
"Easy..."
"I've got you."
Knock Out — POV
Lift.
No floating.
Held.
...
Warm.
Soft.
Pressure.
Behind.
Below.
Around.
...
Deep sound.
Very close.
The deep sound...
Makes...
Small sounds.
Many sounds.
Changing.
High.
Low.
Long.
Short.
...
Vibrations.
Always vibrations.
Before...
Outside?
Outside?
...
Outside.
...
The deep sound...
Warm.
Warm...
Deep sound.
Same?
No.
Not same.
Together.
Collector
He carefully turned toward the articulation station.
The diagnostic cradle was already unfolding, ready to begin the first mobility calibration.
"Now..."
Collector spoke almost automatically, more to reassure himself than the newborn.
"I'm gonna guide you through this not-so-pleasant phase, okay?"
A small laugh.
"...Maybe I should stop talking to stunned protoforms..."
The technician at the console smirked without looking up.
"You always say that."
"And you always keep talking."
Collector rolled his optics.
"Well... silence feels rude."
Knock Out — POV
Another.
Another sound.
Not deep.
Sharper.
Far.
Different.
...
Two.
Two sounds.
Not same.
...
Deep...
Warm.
Other...
Not warm?
...
Other.
...
If...
Other...
Then...
...
This?
...
Here?
...
Not other.
...
Me?
...
...
Me...
...
What...
Me?
...
Warm...
Other.
Soft...
Other.
Me...
Into...
Other?
...
Need...
Other.
Where...
Other?
The mouth moved.
Strange.
Heavy.
Slow.
Again.
Again.
Something answered.
Air.
Vibration.
Sound.
Broken.
"...Zo..."
Stop.
Again.
"...tiz..."
Again.
"...iz..."
The deep sound stopped moving.
"...the..."
Everything became still.
"...woll-It..."
Silence.
Collector
Every servo froze.
His optics widened.
The protoform...
Had spoken.
Not random vocalization.
Not reflexive static.
Words.
Collector stared at the tiny face cradled in his hands, unable to believe the recording that was undoubtedly being captured by every sensor in the room.
"...What the..."
He looked toward the other technician.
"...wreck?"