Theme Song:
Holly Brook - "Where'd You Go"
[ watch?v=bKjVKIcGnrM ]
Knock Out stared down at his medical berth, scarlet optics- albeit dark and almost sunken-in- glowing in the dim light as he scrutinized the blue energon pooled on the shiny silver surface. A grimace tore through his stoic façade, and his lips trembled.
A roar erupted from his throat, and he swung at the energon, sending the little bits he'd hit with his servo splattering onto the wall and floor.
The medic then collapsed, the only thing holding him up being his arms as they clenched the berth. His legs trembled, his pedes slipping against the puddles of spilled energon on the floor of his medical bay.
Staying silent for the majority of two hours, he stared down at the examination berth, eying the hearty scratches littering his once pristine workplace- the signs of a desperate struggle. It wasn't too long ago that he'd mauled Cylas. Of course, he'd managed to open up Breakdown's poor shell of a body the best he could, but the wretched flesh bag had done such an awful job of repairing him, Knock Out had no choice but to tear him apart in the end-
-rendering his body permanently useless, nothing but a heap of broken metal and irreparable pieces.
His sharp digits ground into the medical berth, leaving deep indents. Breakdown's spark had still be functioning: it was the only thing keeping that disgusting Cylas alive, the sole power source.
Closing his optics good and tight, Knock Out banished all thoughts of Breakdown's dismembered remains, refused to picture the delightfully terrified face of Cylas as his servos skillfully undid his terrible stitching, tearing out his tongue before poking out his eyes- one by one- like picking olives out of a jar-
He cursed Cylas' name, then fell silent as Breakdown's sole yellow optic came to processor. It flashed and blinked with life, his arrogant, cocky smile taking over his orange face. This alone brought a little smile to Knock Out's own lips. Breakdown had made it his duty to take after him. To be just like him.
Such a charming little brother he'd been.
He stood on shaky legs, turning on his heel and storming quietly out of the medical bay. The Decepticon snaked his way through the Nemesis, keeping to the shadows for fear of detection. Soon reaching Soundwave's briefly abandoned computer, he crunched in random coordinates- some desolate place in Nevada, he didn't care- before stealing away through the ground bridge.
It was on that cliff where he decided to let everything out.
His screams would have been too loud for the Nemesis, and Megatron would have no doubt soundly punished him for being a nuisance.
Under-appreciated, over-worked, and just plain sick and tired. Breakdown was the only thing that took him away from all that. They were brothers: they had the closest bond you'd ever see between two Decepticons. Knock Out couldn't get the thought of their meeting out of his head.
The slim red Cybertronian slid down the wall, waiting patiently for the Autobot to come around the corner. All he had to do was shoot. Why was his servo shaking like this? Oh, right, adrenaline. He was barely aware of his body anymore. He'd seen too many dead bodies to start thinking about resting. Resting wouldn't get him out of this Pit of a war.
He'd been too wrapped up in his thoughts, for the Autobot swung around the corner and smirked, crushing Knock Out's head against the wall. His cannon-arm was brought around to his back, where it was shoved at a most uncomfortable angle. Knock Out grunted, swinging his leg around to capture the Autobot's, but she was too swift, and trapped them in her own.
This femme was about twice his size, so being overpowered was not surprising.
"Say goodbye, Decepticon."
The sound of a large, painful crash exploded into the air, and Knock Out's optics closed, ready to depart and meet Primus.
However, instead of being greeted with white light and open arms of his maker, he was released, bringing his cannon-arm around. He coddled it, hissing as he felt his limb almost pop out of its socket. Knock Out then realized he was free, and whirled around, ready to flee. The body of the femme lay lifeless at his savior's feet, her head bashed in by something incredibly huge.
He was met with a grin, much too childish and goofy to be on the face of this big, bulky, yellow-eyed stranger.
Knock Out furrowed his optic ridges. "Who are you?"
"Breakdown. I take it you're a fellow Decepticon?"
"..Yes." Knock Out's expression softened, and he transformed his hand into a rather frightening-looking razor blade.
"What, no 'thank you'?"
"If you're truly a Decepticon," Knock Out scoffed, "you'd have realized long before now that we don't soil our tongues with the like of petty thanks."
"I'll take that, too. What's your designation?"
"I am Knock Out. Where is your partner, stunticon?"
Breakdown's grin faltered at the mention of his partner- or stunticon, whichever- and shrugged. "He was taken down about an hour ago. Friendly fire."
Knock Out chuckled at this. Breakdown scowled.
"Where's your partner?"
"I killed him. He was dead-weight anyways."
That grin came back. "Cool. Mind if we team up? I don't do good going solo."
Knock Out eyed the brute with skilled scrutiny, before shrugging, cocking a hip. "Sure. Why not?"
Breakdown let out a jolly laugh before transforming his four-fingered fist into a hammer. "We should get going then. Don't want to be caught with our backs against the wall, right?"
"Alright, then. Oh- Breakdown, is it? Tell me.. do you happen to have any experience behind a rotary buffer?"
Knock Out stared up at the starry sky, optics half-mast and lips parted ever so slightly, reminiscing with a blank expression. It was at the sound of stomping pedes that he came back into reality, barely tilting his head to recognize the stranger. "Yes, drone, I am well aware I am not at my post. Tell Megatron I will return shortly. Off with you."
"You got the wrong guy, 'Con."
He shut his eyes in irritation, before forcing a smile and turning around, all traces of sadness seemingly gone as he opened his arms wide, his droopy eyes greeting the familiar face with sarcastic, lazy glee. "Ah, if it isn't my lovely companion, the Autobot Goddess?"
Her hand was transformed into a sort of katana-like blade, holding it out steadily as her other wielded her cannon. "Shut it, quack. What are you doing here?"
"Can I not go anywhere to spend some time alone, without being flocked by lovely ladies?"
"I'm the only one here."
Knock Out noticed the darkening of her unique optics, before her expression softened a bit.
"You're out here.. alone?"
"Is that strange to you?"
"..A little. I mean, you're always ordering drones around and stuff when you head out," she scoffed, her arms dropping unceremoniously to her sides, her back arching as she slouched lazily, making little, flail-ly arm movements as she emphasized her point. "You being alone just seems a little fishy."
"I don't understand how my solitary state is related to aquatic sea creatures."
"It's a human metaphor," the femme mumbled. She then frowned. "You look a little off, too. You okay?"
Knock Out was utterly taken aback- he even took a step back- by her sudden concern. She seemed to catch herself, and she stuttered, weapons transforming back into regular servos as she placed her hands on her hips.
"I-I mean, you're not all sadistic and perverted, a-and I think there's something wrong.. N-not that I care! I could care less what's got your bikini in a twist, but it's just sort of- sort of awkward without all the fighting and sexual tension."
Knock Out dropped his façade after her rant, and turned back around, face stoic and wiped clean of fake emotions. The femme blinked confusedly at this, and scratched the back of her head.
"I mean, I'm not the best when it comes to helping people out, but I do my best, you know? It's in my programming. And there's something going on in that twisted processor of yours. It's bugging me."
"What exactly are you trying to say, Autobot? Speak properly. I don't understand poppycock."
His cold, almost depressed voice startled the femme. She frowned even deeper and sighed.
"What's wrong, quack?"
He scowled, although the femme couldn't see anything but his back. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, but.. I've been suffering from insomnia, or whatever your flesh bags like to call it," he lied. Well, it wasn't technically a lie; he hadn't slept a wink since Breakdown's disappearance.
"Insomnia..? Oh, yeah. Ratchet suffers from it, too. Must be the reason he's so grouchy all the time." She forced a chuckle, awkwardly dragging it out as if waiting for Knock Out to join. Just to humor her, he let out a small, scoff-like laugh. Then she cleared her throat.
"You know I don't really believe you, right? You always tell me about how you know me so well, quack. I'm surprised you didn't think I can't sniff out your lies."
Knock Out didn't answer. He knew she knew. And at this, he let a small smile cross his lips.
"It's Breakdown."
His spark lurched in its chamber. His head whirled around, and he gaped at the femme with large, wide optics. "What?"
She was emotionless, her hands at her hips. Her optic ridges twitched downwards into an almost sad look, before she murmured, "You didn't think the Autobots took note of his death? Bulkhead was the one to tell us. He was kind of sad. He and Breakdown weren't on the best of terms, but no matter what, he wouldn't deny that they had been buddies once. A long time ago."
Knock Out's face contorted into a look of pain, and he turned back around, shoulders hunching over as he gripped his sides.
He wasn't going to allow this Autobot the satisfaction of seeing him so close to tears.
The building lubricant made his optics sting and burn. The femme's soft footsteps approached him, and the cold metal of his arm warmed immediately at her touch.
"It's fine, Knock Out. Really. It's okay to cry-"
He turned on his heel and shoved past her, slapping her hand away with a force that was almost overpowering.
Something snapped just then, as she said his name. Something inside didn't feel right anymore. Like his balance had been knocked off-kilter. The world felt different when the femme said his name. She was close to making him believe that it was alright. That it was okay to just succumb to feelings, and break down in her arms like a weakling.
He knew her all too well. Just as much as he knew Breakdown.
He knew her and it scared him. But Decepticons did not get scared.
She made him think that it was okay to know someone. And it was not okay. Not okay to feel any of this. To feel anything.
"It's not okay," he grumbled, echoing his thoughts. "I am a Decepticon. Decepticons do not cry. We are not weak like Autobots. We do not look back, and we do not feel."
And as he walked away, leaving her in the dust, the femme just stood there, where she had been when she reached for his arm. She peered down at her pedes and sighed, nodding.
The femme looked up into the sky, where she noticed a bright star glowing directly above her.
Was this the thing Knock Out had been staring at when she had arrived?
It was then that she realized the truth.
Knowing Breakdown had been the death of Knock Out. The death of the real him. The one that felt things like happiness, anger, and sorrow.
But.. did she even know the real him? Feel the real him? She liked to think so. She liked him.
Because he sure felt her. Knew her. Liked her.
She began to wonder if she was the only being left in the universe that he really, truly knew.
And, upon realizing the sick, twisted irony of it all, it scared her.
It scared him, too.