Warnings!: Dark Fic, Torture, Slash, Manipulation
Summary: TFP AU Early War. Knock Out watches/supervises as a young Breakdown (Autobot Wrecker turned Decepticon) has a brief sparing match with an unfortunate opponent.
Notes: I'm playing with a plotline where Breakdown was originally an Autobot, he was one of the youngest Wreckers. Knock Out goes after Breakdown, manipulating him, slowly turning him against his Autobot brethren. He eventually betrays the Autobots, big time, then swears allegiance to the Decepticons/Megatron. As part of a deal/reward between Megatron and Knock Out, Knock Out gets to keep Breakdown for his own purposes. Having seen a wealth of opportunity in Breakdown, Knock Out goes about making him his assistant and all round killing machine. Not beta edited, sorry.
He watched, enthralled, at the almost graceful way Breakdown fought. Reflected light rolling and glinting along the smooth lines and planes of his armored frame as he moved. Breakdown was fast. Not as fast as he was, no, he'd been built for speed, but the young warrior was far faster than others his size.
And stronger too.
Knock Out had made sure of that. He'd spent cycles modifying him. Taking any opportunity to dive into that large frame, plating splayed open, chest, arms, shoulders, wrist joints, hands, waist, hips, legs, knee joints, ankle joints….there was hardly an inch of Breakdown he hadn't altered, modified, or reinforced in some way. Placing on his assistant an unseen mark.
His mark.
His.
Watching Breakdown beat the gears out of his opponents always brought him a sense of pride. The knowledge he'd had a direct hand in creating this finely tuned killing machine.
He walked slowly around the training room, at a safe distance, circling the two mechs as they fought, watching their every move. Particularly Breakdown's. Mentally making a list of any further alterations that needed to take place. Breakdown's opponent, he couldn't be bothered to remember the mech's name, it didn't matter, especially once they were done with him, kept a wary optic on the medic as he walked.
There were rumors circulating now that he would aid Breakdown should it look like his "pet Wrecker" might lose the fight. It wasn't true, complete nonsense, nothing more than bitter gossip spread by bruised egos. None wanted to admit losing to an ex-Autobot all on his own.
No, Breakdown needed no assistance from him. Still, he found the opponent's wariness amusing…and smart. Any mech, Autobot or Decepticon, was right to show a healthy amount of caution when facing the two of them. Alone. In a locked room.
He kept silent, pacing quietly, optics locked on the power struggle as the two warriors smashed into each other, fists flying, hands grabbing. A sweeping kick from one and they both ended up on the ground, grappling with each other, snarling, struggling for dominance.
Breakdown gained the upper hand, flipping the mech, knee quickly pinning the other's bulk down as Breakdown's fist smashed into the dull black helm, again and again, till the mech stilled. Red optics flickering out, form going limp. The mech was out but it was only temporary.
Knock Out gave a pleased hum, walking toward Breakdown as his warrior remained kneeling on his opponent, vents cycling raggedly, slowly returning to normal. He walked up behind his protégé, leaning against the broad expanse of his back, hands caressing over shoulders to smooth a path down his chest plate. Breakdown's optics dimmed, he leaned into the touches. Drinking in Knock Out's silent praise.
He gave a throaty moan as that sleek, lithe form pressed flush against him, energy field flaring, one slender hand sweeping up to toy with his neck cables, lips playing along his audio. "I don't want you to just win, Breakdown. I want you to hurt him. Break him. Take him apart. Make him scream. Do it."
Yellow optics narrowed to two drowsy slivers of light as Breakdown tilted his head back to rest lightly against Knock Out's shoulder, completely trusting. Slim sharp finger tips slid in between thick neck cables, curling, grazing some unknown sensor. Breakdown shuddered almost violently from the intense burst of hot tingling pleasure. The lips pressed against his audio pulling into a grin, the voice warm and thick, pouring over him like syrup. "Do it. For me."
Slipping away, Knock Out let his fingers linger, teasingly, as he stepped back. Breakdown looked over his shoulder, watching his retreat, optics darkened with lust. Smirking, he reached down for his opponent, the mech slowly coming back online.
Completely unaware of the danger he was in.
Knock Out smiled gleefully at the first resounding crack of armor, at the immediate, almost desperate struggle to get away. He enjoyed that part. That look in their optics. That horrified realization of what was happening to them, continuing to happen to them. He loved how they started off in strained, sometimes spiteful, stubborn silence, then moved on to whimpering or short yelps of pain. Then came the cursing and threats, then begging. And finally, words lengthening out to screams.
Breakdown's opponent was a quick progresser. His screams were wonderful, echoing off the walls, almost musical as they rose and fell in pitch and volume with an accompaniment of fingers frantically scrabbling on the floor in useless attempts to get away.
It was beautiful. The violence…arousing. Especially since Breakdown was doing such a wonderful job.
He watched with a wistful expression as Breakdown leaned his weight on the thrashing frame, knee still pinning the other down, as he slowly peeled off the mech's plating in precise measured chunks meant to inflict the maximum amount of pain on a mech's sensor net.
Just like Knock Out had taught him.
The intent was not to kill, this wasn't fatal by any means. They weren't working on an Autobot. This was just for fun. For training. The mech would be pieced back together later. He'd live through this. Hopefully, a little wiser in his choice of sparing companions.
Watching, he felt his systems start to run hot as his assistant worked. Hands became restless, itching to touch. Not himself, not Breakdown, but the other. He wanted to touch that energon slickened plating. Feel his fingers dig in, applying force, feel the sudden gratifying give as the plating came loose, torn from it's surroundings. The warm burst of energon, thick and warm over his fingers. Feeling the slick jagged edged plating against his palm.
Then do it again.
Yes...
Breakdown looked up as he approached.
"Hold him."
Nodding, Breakdown obeyed. The mech beneath him thrashed violently as large merciless hands gripped raw, exposed sensors nodes. His hands were pulled back and pinned behind him as he was forced up to his knees. The frame shook, racked with pain, red optics going wide as the medic approached.
Knock Out grinned with fascinated glee as he reached forward, almost touching the mech when the door to the training room suddenly burst open. Frowning, he straightened, hand dropping back to his side, not the least bit happy Stripnine had, once again, hacked through his security lock. Looks like Breakdown's opponent had pinged for help.
What a killjoy.
Breakdown knew their fun was over too, releasing his opponent, letting him fall forward to lay in a shaking heap at his feet. He grinned, ferally, as he wiped a hand along his torso, energon and mech fluids splattering to the floor flicked from his fingers as he moved to stand.
Stripnine took one look at the mess and snarled at them, "Get out, both of you. You're done here."
Breakdown's gaze went immediately to Knock Out, waiting for the medic to instruct him on what to do next. Leave, stay, attack Stripnine; Breakdown would do anything Knock Out asked him to without question.
It was this willing obedience Breakdown gave to him so freely that sent another hot jolt of arousal curling through Knock Out's systems, desire pooling. The interrupted fun was no longer an issue, he had other plans, other uses in mind for Breakdown now. Optics darkened as he tilted his helm toward the door. There was no need for words, they both knew.
They smiled at each other before walking out the door, flashing twin smirks at Stripnine as they went. The ranking officer looking at their retreating forms in leering disgust before turning to scrap together the remains of his shredded warrior.
Author's notes:
What can I say? I love Knock Out/Breakdown and I love a twisted Knock Out. And twisted Knock Out teaching Breakdown to be twisted...yum!
Reading and reviewing is always loved! Thanks!