He was tired of this. Why hadn't they called him back before? Hadn't it been long enough? The only reason he hadn't tried to contact them, abort this never ending mission that grated on his sensors, was because of Breakdown.
It wasn't supposed to have happened. It shouldn't have. Breakdown was a surprise.
Decepticons didn't have friends.
Act like a mild psychopath and everyone becomes wary. Not enough to make yourself a threat to the officers but still dangerous, as all Decepticons are supposed to be. It was fun to scare vehicons at times. They learned very quickly not to scratch his paint. Turning his sleek helm, Knockout admired the red optics that matched his frame. He loved how the colors went together. It looked so much nicer than blue. The medic really was vain, all he had to do was exaggerate it a little (something that had gotten him in trouble with Megatron more than once) and tack on anger issues when that perfection was messed up, and viola! Occasionally psychotic mech. Not a lie. Just an exaggeration.
They didn't pay that much mind to medics anyway. It was easier to slip in as a medic than as a soldier. And Knockout didn't have to fight the Autobots as much. Still, had to keep up appearances. If he made sure to go out every once in a while to rough them up, then no one would be suspicious. And as long as it wasn't any lasting damage, he wouldn't get lectures from Ratchet when he returned. He already knew that he's get a thump in the helm for zapping Optimus. He hadn't hurt him that much, just played the part like he was supposed to. He had still hesitated just before he struck. Thankfully no one had seen.
Fighting the Prime had helped cement his role as a Decepticon.
And it worked. Holy Primus did it work. None of the other Autobots save for the CMO and the Prime himself knew what was going on. It was much too dangerous otherwise. Soundwave had audios everywhere.
The ruse would have been better if he'd been built for flight. But he'd always had a ground mode and heights terrified him. Thankfully not all Decepticons where fliers, so it wasn't too much of a risk. The only times that were really bad was when he had to be merciless to patients. Another exaggeration. Interest in how the body worked and medical things had always fascinated him.
Just pretend the screams don't bother you. That they're music to your audios. You're a Decepticon, remember? Play the part.
But then there was Breakdown. He wasn't supposed to happen.
Yet he did. Breakdown didn't care that Knockout was narcissistic. The flares of temper and self-centered behavior didn't bother him. He wasn't pushed away by it like he should have been. Somehow through the long centuries of pretending, Knockout started to like the larger Cybertronian's company. Somehow it had turned into friendship.
And somehow, it had ended in a day. Quiet rough laughter slipped out, edged with hysteria. The rancorous sound echoed throughout the empty and dimly lit room. He had pretended not to care.
'Is something amusing you, Knockout?' The medic turned to see Dreadwing staring at him from across the hall where he'd stopped.
'I was thinking of Breakdown. The clumsy oaf always cheered me up.' Turning away, the red mech pretended not to see the seeker watching him. He pretended that what he'd said hadn't hurt. He pretended he was a Decepticon because Cons didn't care if their comrades died. He pretended he was a sparkless medic with vanity issues and a slightly manic personality. Although the last part had started to become less pretending and more real. How unfortunate for Cylas that he was upon Knockout's table. Revenge was sweet and very much a part of Decepticon ethics. The medic decided Breakdown would've been proud.
If you pretend long enough, do you become that thing?
The only reason he had kept going with this farce was because the ex-wrecker had been by his side. If he went back to the Autobots, what would Breakdown think? How could he betray him like that? But the "medic" couldn't betray his faction either. He was risking his spark being this deep. Pulled from both sides, Knockout had continued. There really wasn't much of a choice.
But Breakdown wasn't holding him back anymore. What was the point? If he left, the Decepticon high command no longer had a medic. That would be a huge blow to Megatron's cause.
Yet if he stayed, the Autobots would continue to have a spy. Inside information across an extended period of time trumped a temporary blow any day. The Cons would just get another medic from somewhere.
Or take him back. And then his life would go to the Pits. As if it hadn't already.
Hesitating, razor sharp digits paused over the button on a tiny device on the inside of his wrist. It would block out Soundwave. Knockout could send the word: that he was coming back, that it had been too long, that it was no longer safe.
But Arachnid still lived. Megatron should never have let her on the ship. If he went now, there was no guarantee that he'd get a chance at killing her. If he stayed, he could continue to do his job. And maybe, maybe if Megatron accepted the spider back into the fold he would get that chance. Let those Autobots hate him (it wasn't their fault, they didn't know better). The Prime had given him a mission. He would do it.
With a deeply vented sigh, Knockout let his arm drop. Maybe he could find some Vehicons who'd missed their checkups. The medic needed to open something up and study it. Poor Cylas. He never should have taken Breakdown's body. He never should have made Knockout angry, because now Breakdown was gone.
Bitter optics studied the dirty medbay, stains of energon and other fluids decorating the berths and tables. A testament of pain and dying. All for the glory of the Decepticons of course.
I miss you, Knockout thought, not daring to say it aloud in case anyone could hear.
But the show must go on
.
.
A curious little plot bunny bit me and wouldn't let go.
This is basically a 'what if'. "What if Knockout wasn't really a Decepticon?"