Prologue

"I want you," Swindle said.

Those were the first three words the merchant had said to him while they were seated facing each other across the desk in his office. Datapads had been neatly placed aside, along with a glass of medium grade perspiring in the cool and fresh glow of pure energy.

Two large seekers stood on either side with their arms crossed and narrowed optics fixed on the shiny, crimson mech who was still in the midst of regaining full consciousness.

"I can't afford to waste anymore of my precious time scouring the galaxy for medical help," the merchant continued. "I've been thinking about getting one on board. So imagine my surprise when my guards brought you in to me…"

"H-how did I get here?" Knock Out murmured groggily.

Swindle slid the cold glass across and gestured at the medic to take his drink.

"I got a little curious and started doing a background check on you to, oh you know, make sure that you hadn't been sent here to, ah, kill me?" The merchant smiled. "That's when I realised we've caught ourselves a Decepticon medic. And you certainly have quite the reputation. I must say I am truly impressed, Dr. Knock Out."

With his talons wrapped around the glass, Knock Out slowly lifted it to his mouth, revelling in the velvety texture lubricating his parched throat. This was energon at its finest. The best he had tasted in eons. Still—something, somewhere felt amiss.

"You're mistaken," he told Swindle. "I didn't come here for a job. I—I don't even know how I ended up here. My troops and I were under attack when I—"

The merchant leaned forward and interjected, "You'd been in stasis for a week. Must have been quite the battle you fought out there, huh. How did you even manage to get out unscathed, hm? There's not a scratch on you to suggest you've been engaged in a skirmish. So let's not waste time and tell me why you are really here."

"I don't know."

The merchant cleared his throat. "That's…not exactly the answer I was looking for."

"You can't keep me here. They'll find me. No one leaves a medic behind."

Swindle snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, doctor. As valuable as you are, I doubt Megatron would waste his time looking for you. Unless…I had you returned—for a price of course."

Knock Out heard a clink and glanced down, noticing the cuffs around his wrists. "How dare you," he said, scowling at the merchant. "Just who do you think you are? Treating me like a commodity waiting to be sold." Anger simmered inside him, urging the medic to rise and slam both servos on the merchant's desk. "I am a doctor. Not a slave!"

"Stay down!" bellowed one of Swindle's guards.

The merchant nonchalantly leaned back in his chair. "Let him be," he said to Thrust before turning his attention to the medic again. "I'm just a click away from activating those shock bands on your wrists. So I suggest you calm the frag down and drink your energon, doctor."

Impatient, Thrust stepped forward to subdue the medic with a single shove. "When Swindleboss tells you to sit your aft down, you sit!" he growled, seizing the medic by the shoulder and forcing him to remain seated.

"Knock Out…I'm sorry to say but the Decepticons have abandoned you. Megatron—has abandoned you. As far as your troops are concerned, you are gone. Dead. I've tampered with your survival beacon so you'll remain undetected. In other words, you don't exist beyond my ship. And no one—leaves my ship. Ever."

Knock Out trembled with rage, his gaze piercing through the merchant's. "I will kill you," he said. "And bring your ugly head on the platter to Megatron."

Swindle laughed. "Dirge, take care of this for me, will you?" he said before leaving his desk. "I'm taking Thrust along with me to attend a meeting off planet. I'll be counting on you to keep watch and make the doctor feel right at home."

And the last thing Knock Out saw that night was Swindle exiting the office without so much as a backward glance. It was as though he had left with an air of satisfaction, knowing his captive would never be able to find his way out of his ship.

Knock Out found himself scanning through his memory banks for traces of information but had found nothing.

He sensed Dirge behind him, and with a swift blow to the head, darkness followed suit, pulling the medic into the depths of oblivion once again.