It was dark and it was cold. His venting was heavy, uneven as he ran, wait, when did he start running?
He skidded to a halt, kicking up a shower of dirt as he did so. Everything was quiet, too quiet, he did not remember the organic planet ever being this silent. There was always something making noise, usually, but now it was silent. He panted, spinning on his heal, darkness meeting his panicked optics wherever he looked.
Suddenly the scene changed and now he was standing amidst the ruins of a Cybertronian city. With growing trepidation, he recognized the ruins as Iacon city.
A shrill, auidio splitting cry rang out, echoing through the dark empty streets and cut off as suddenly as it started. Before he knew it, he was moving again, rushing through the destroyed alleys, the sounds of his pedesteps deafening in the eerie silence.
There! A small figure lay in the center of the dark street, the bright azure pool beneath her the only source of light, cutting through the pitch black like a lazer.
He dropped down next to her, uncaring of the blue liquid staining his legs. But it was already too late. Her armor had already reverted to the gun metal gray and her optics were dark. There was a gaping hole where her spark should've been.
His servos shook. For some reason he felt like he knew her for a very long time, yet he could not place her. What was her designation? Armor? Personality? Function? Who was she?
There was a sudden brush against his shoulder plate and he startled, turning around in a quick motion, the movement making him lose his balance and collapse against the body behind him.
Green optics, bright with insanity, stared at him from the darkness, crooked mouth stretched into an ear to ear grin, baring sharp dentae stained with something horrifically akin to energon.
He screamed.
The berth creaked in protest as he sat up, chassis heaving from the recent nightmare. Knock Out panted, closing his optics and servos grasping at his helm as he desperately tried to forget, to banish the horrible dream from his mind.
The soft buzzing did not register immediately, but when it did, long digits reached out automatically, the sharp click announcing the deactivation of the clock.
His red frame shook in distress as muffled whimpers escaped his parted lipplates. He thought the nightmares had stopped, he really did, but ever since Breakdown's demise, they plagued his dreams and no amount of sleep aids seemed to help.
Knock Out knew that the cause of this was his grief, along with the trauma his spark suffered when the bond was severed. The established peace did not help. During the war, he was kept busy, focusing on his own survival, but now..
Still shaking, he reached for the nightstand, opening a drawer and retrieving a small disk. With a soft click, the disk lit up and a hologram appeared, casting a dim blue light on his unusually pale faceplates, giving him a ghostly look.
Two mechs stared back at him, broad, matching grins on their faces. Bright, yellow optics stared back at him, yet untouched by the horrors of war and instead filled with endless joy.
Realizing that he could not bear it, Knock Out stashed the disk back into the drawer, unconsciously making sure to place it as far away as possible. His internal clock pinged him, informing the red medic of the time and if that he did not hurry, he could be late for his shift. Not that Ratchet would care, he'd been insisting on Knock Out taking a vacation for weeks.
He rose heavily to his pedes, planting a servo on the nightstand to steady his swaying, before stretching leisurely, a low rumble escaping him as his stiff joints popped pleasantly. The medic really had to start reminding himself to stop falling asleep on his back as his aching wheels reminded him.
Stumbling slightly, he exited the berthroom, the lights turning on automatically and illuminating the long hallway. He ignored the door to the living room, instead entering the wash racks for a quick shower.
The warm solvent was soothing against his frame, and he let out a cat like purr, pointed audious flicking away any droplets that landed on them. Knock Out stood under the spray, shoulders falling from their stiff hold, the dark thoughts of his latest dream more like a distant memory.
He almost regretted exiting the wash rack, but he as much as he would like to, he could not stand there forever. When Knock Out glanced in the wall mounted mirror, however, he stilled.
His optics were dim, exhaustion laced every line of his frame. His protoform was paper than usual. Small scratches and scuffs littered his armor, most likely from his thrashing caused by the nightmare.
He was quick to remedy what he could, returning his armor to it's usual shine, but he could not help how tired he felt. Both physically and emotionally. Maybe he did need that vacation.
His morning energon was pleasant against his glossy, warm and filled with his favorite add-ins, and he closed his optics, leaning back against the counter of the small kitchen area in his living room. Knock Out allowed himself to relax, silently readying himself for a very long day., the soft morning light filtering into the room through the window shutters.
A sudden series of loud knocks on his door startled Knock Out to the point that he almost dropped the cube he'd been holding.
"Knooocks, I know you're up! Lemme in!"
Smokescreen's obnoxious voice came through the sturdy metal and the red mech withheld a sigh, rubbing his nasal ridge in exhaustion. Peace, thy name is not Smokescreen.
When he'd been presented with the luxurious apartment, naturally he'd expected a catch. And, unfortunately for him, his instinct were correct, for he was saddled with none other, but the energetic, naive rookie as a neighbor.
"Knocky!" More banging.
Venting a frustrated sigh, Knock Out regretfully lowered the cube he'd been sipping and went to answer the door. He barely managed to dodge the blue racer as the latter rushed into the room.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" He ground out, but his voice lacked the usual heat. He was far too tired for this slag.
"Woah, nice setup you've got here Knocks! Seriously, how do you manage to keep everything clean like this? My quarters are always a mess, no matter how often I try to clean up-"
"Yeah, yeah, that's not surprising.. What do you want Smokescreen?" Knock Out groused, picking up the abandoned cube. The blue mech shrugged, unfazed by the medic's obvious frustration.
"Anyways, 'Bee and I were thinking of goin' racing on that new track they built. Ya know? Near the center?" Smokescreen continued, coming to stand in the center of the room, his back to the windows.
Knock Out remained silent, contemplating. A race would be nice actually, it would definitely burn off some stress and the thought of feeling the smooth metal beneath his tires and the wind whipping against his frame was pleasant. But unfortunately he had tons of work. For once he cursed his busy lifestyle.
"No, I'm busy. Now if you'll excuse me.." Setting the now empty cube in the sink, he would wash it later, he walked out of the still open door, looking back pointedly at the rookie until the latter got the message and followed him out.
"But.. You're always busy! Come on, you deserve a break. Bee and I could speak with Ratchet, try and get you a day off" The rookie pressed, not so easily dissuaded.
Knock Out let a small chuckle escape his vocaliser, taking some relief in the fact that it wasn't forced. "That's appreciated, but I'll have to decline." Smokescreen really was too naive for his own good.
The young mech watched the red medic lock his door in silence. Knock Out's armor shone, not a scratch was evident on the pristine surface, but the rookie could tell that Knock Out was exhausted. Ever since the war ended, the former decepticon had been working hard to prove that his loyalties now lay with the Autobots. Despite his efforts, some people still doubted him.. Well, at least they stopped the attempts on his life. As Knock Out waited for the elevator, Smokescreen rubbed the back of his neck, feeling slightly unsettled and wondering how else to convince the red 'con. Watching the blue racer from the corner of his optic, the medic stifled an irritated sigh.
"Look, I'll try to make it, alright? Just comm me the time and I'll see if I can make it." That made the blue bot perk up, a smile resurfacing on the silver faceplates which made Knock Out to quickly add: "No promises though."
"Yeah, sure. Whatever ya say KO"
Knock Out sent the rookie a dark look for the loathed nickname. Smokescreen replied with an innocent smile. "Oh and Knocks..."
"Bye, Smokescreen"
Witnessing the offended look on the rookie's face as the doors of the elevator closed in his face was worth it.
There was very little traffic on the streets, it was still quite early after all, so Knock Out was able to get to the clinic rather swiftly. Transforming, he nodded to some of his colleagues standing by the door in answer to their greetings, before heading inside.
It was rather quiet inside, apparently only minor injuries came in during the night, though he knew that regrettably that would soon change. Almost instantly, a lime green femme appeared at his side.
"Knock Out! You're here! Ratchet's been searching all over for you." Her blue optics were warm and she was clutching a data pad close to her chest. Knock Out sighed.
"Yeah, I'll be there in a klick."
The femme nodded and left, instead approaching a pair of mechs, no doubt to inform them of their friend's condition. The red medic reached for his comms to contact Ratchet when suddenly everything erupted into chaos.
His HUD lit up in red as an emergency transmission was sent to all medics, summoning them back to the lobby. Cursing, he spun on his heel and ran back the way he came from.
Knock Out could already hear the shouts of pain, fear and agony, the barked orders of his fellow colleagues even before he reached the room. Several other medics dashed past him, setting the injured mechs on stretchers and rushing them to any operating rooms that were available. From what Knock Out had gathered from the transmission, there had been an accident in one of the mines on the outskirts of Iacon.
"KNOCK OUT!" That got his attention instantly. Looking over the heads of the crowd, he barely caught sight of Ratchet waving to him almost frantically from the other side of the room. Instantly, he rushed over, weaving through the crowd with urgency, not even apologizing to the few mechs he'd had to shove to get past.
Ratchet met him head on. "Patient's in critical condition. Our colleagues found him under a pile of rubble. If we don't stop the bleeding now, he'll die!"
Knock Out nodded and moved to enter the operating room, but Ratchet put a servo on his shoulderplate, preventing him from entering. At Knock Out's confused look, the older mech vented a sigh. "I want you to prepare yourself, Knock Out. The mech back there.. You know him."
And with that he stepped aside, so that his frame was no longer obscuring the gruesome sight. The red medic felt his vents stall in shock, his optics blown wide at the scene before him.
"St-Starscream?!"