Cirrus
By SMYGO4EVA
Better at breaking things rather fixing the smallest of parts – as what doctors are known for nowadays, on Earth, that is.
Always striving for perfection in his work, tearing things apart and then rebuilding them, Knock Out was one to not forgo his looks along with his craft, and he knew all too well. With wonderfully dark crimson eyes and a smirk and a swagger, he was one to hear the call of being brilliant and excelling in his line of work on the Nemesis ship. His work meant being ruthless towards his subjects and reshaping them; be it any other bot or fleshling, to be used as a tool or be the most important in all of the worlds.
To simply serve, to be bound, to never have a choice in the matter - that was not how Knock Out operated. Then again, with serving in the Decepticons, a Cybertronian race like no other- not even like those Autobots, he would set his allegiance to them and Lord Megatron and no one else, as he didn't really like the punishments that would occur if he was to disobey the leader.
As he chose to drive as his alt-mode rather than fly, therefore making a spectacle of himself, Knock Out was sure to see what the Earth had to offer, so that if the time comes, he would be sure to destroy it from within his craft – to rebuild and destroy in the end. The cirrus clouds he would see as he drove in his alt-mode, the perfect disguise amongst the skinjobs called humans – the clouds were as thin as the vast sky itself, leaving nothing as he would hide his flaws, seek and only have perfection in his grasp, in anything and everything.
The cirrus were almost akin to the façade that the crimson Decepticon always placed upon himself, a mask of what truly lied beneath his flashy and good-looking outside. He would be always obtaining perfection, not even without getting his hands dirty. Like those cirrus clouds, beneath in the back of his processor, in his grin and all that vanity was the fact that one day his looks would rust away completely and he too would be left with nothing.