Knockout hummed quietly as he cleaned the familiar tools of the Medbay, even though they already sparkled in the dim lighting. He couldn't help it. It was a habit he had picked up during the war; instead of violence or drinking to help cope, he cleaned. Many Decepticons had laughed at this odd quirk, but they had quickly learned to leave the medic alone while he was doing it. Especially when he was handling sharp medical instruments.

Knockout sighed and looked down at the scalpel he was polishing. The light glinted off of it and onto a nearby wall. He put it down in its proper place before deciding that he should probably stop wasting time. He went over and locked the Medbay door.

He decided to visit his old friend (Or project, he amused.) Breakdown's body should be where he left it last. He changed the song he was humming as he dragged the huge lump out of the closet and on to the medical berth. To his dismay, the body still leaked a little Dark Energon.

I thought I cleaned him out last time! He sighed. That stuff must multiply or something. I'll look into that.

He opened up the chest plates to reveal the inner workings that Silas had stuffed into Breakdown's dead body. Knockout shivered in disgust at the memory as he started sawing away at the clunky human tech. There was nothing he wanted more than to give his loyal friend a proper burial, but that wasn't possible as long as M.E.C.H. still had its mark on his frame.

He started talking, of course. He hadn't seen his friend in a long time, and they had to catch up.

"How's it going, Breakdown? Is the Allspark as good as we both thought?"

"Shame I couldn't be there with you. I mean, when my time comes, of course. Right now I'm a little hesitant." He chuckled. "But I bet it's nicer in there. Have you found the rest of the Stunticons yet? I bet they've been dying to see you again. Ha! I'm so funny. Sorry."

An empty silence hung in the room.

"Anyway. . I bet you're interested in how being an 'Autobot' is going. Not well, I tell you. Though not as bad as. . you know what? I'm not going to talk about those days. The Autobots aren't that bad; just different. So much freedom! I can go whenever I want, whenever I want. Back to Earth? No problem. Just here on Cybertron? Just need to make the call. They have a Vehicon manning the Groundbridge at all times. Oh, you'd like the system they have set up with the Vehicons. . ."

The chat went on for a couple hours. Knockout was pleased with the amount of progress he made. The center chamber where the human had controlled Breakdown was almost clear.

He heard footsteps coming towards the Medbay, making him flinch. He picked up the body and disposed it in the closet. He cursed to himself as he hastily cleaned the Dark Energon off his servos.

The door pinged. Someone was using the emergency override. The door slid open.

"Knockout!" Ultra Magnus thundered in. "I told you not to lock the Medbay doors! What if there is an emergency? Do you want one of us to die?!"

"My L- sir! I-I can explain!" Knockout's optics went wide.

"What are you doing? Get up off the floor."

Knockout realized he was bowing. He froze, before stumbling up into a tight salute.

"You need to stop with the excess dramatics." Ultra Magnus stared coldly. "Do you think I'm going to beat you or something?"

"Um. . . no sir. Not at all. Why would I ever think that?" Knockout half-laughed.

The commander sighed. "I would like to remind you that I am no Megatron. You should not have a breakdown every time I raise my voice."

"Yes sir."

"Good." Ultra Magnus began walking out of the room. He paused. "And please, remember to keep the Medbay doors unlocked in the future."

Knockout relaxed. He waited until Ultra Magnus was safely out of view before opening his comm.

"Ground bridge control, I need off this ship. Got anywhere good?"

The Vehicon on the other end of the line was a lot more hesitant than usual. "Could you give me exact coordinates?"

"Just get me a bridge!" Knockout was close to losing it. "Reuse coordinates if you have to."

"Alright, alright. You need to chill." The Vehicon replied. "I got some interesting coordinates here. Bee and Smoky went on a patrol here yesterday. They said it leads to the archive or something-"

"Just open the bridge, please."

A pattern of greens and blues swirled to life in front of him. Knockout went through the bridge to find himself standing in the ruined Iacon Hall of Records. He knew this place from the history books, of course, but he wasn't part of the siege. He nearly tripped over some remaining rubble as he began walking forward.

At the far end of the hall, a door was open. A soft blue glow poured out. He headed towards it. This had to be the "archive" they referred to. He entered the room.

Something was off. His doors twitched. He had heard the rumors circulating around the Nemesis about some sort of Decepticon ghost haunting the halls, but he didn't believe them. Until now.

"Hello?" His voice echoed throughout the room.

A datapad appeared in front of him. He flinched.

"Mother of Primus!" He stepped back. "What the. . ."

Datapads flying out of nowhere? That was new. Knockout's instincts were screaming that he should run. But where would he go? Not back to the Nemesis, that's for sure.

Out of sheer stupidity (or courage?) he picked up the datapad and quickly read over it.

Hello again, Knockout. Welcome to the new Iacon database.

He promptly dropped it and took three more steps back. As soon as the datapad hit the floor though, it disappeared. It then returned. Knockout took a deep breath before approaching it again.

I was wondering when you would come. We've both been lonely.

"How do you know that?!" Knockout asked into the silence.

The cameras are still in operation, aren't they?

"You hacked the cameras aboard the Nemesis?" He asked.

Not quite. . .

Knockout shook his head and walked away from the datapad, unsure of what to make of that whole exchange. He started to browse the shelves of datapads that lined the room. Row after row of knowledge, and apparently the ghost had written all of this. He had never known anyone with such good memory.

He leaned towards the culture section. Anyone who could remember anything of Cybertron's long lost culture must have a startlingly accurate memory. Art, fashion, language. . . wait, language?

He grabbed the datapad off the shelf. He sat down on the floor and began reading.

While the Cybertronian written language had been preserved, the spoken language of the Cybertronian race had been long since forgotten. Megatron had deemed the tongue "unfit" for his new empire, and forced his army to learn an entirely new language from a planet that the warlord had found interesting: English. Any Decepticon caught speaking Cybertronian was subject to harsh punishment, even up to death, for being a heretic to the Decepticon cause. And when the Decepticons began strategizing and giving orders in a different language, the Autobots had to adapt to survive. Pretty soon, only the oldest and smartest of mechs retained their ability to speak Cybertronian.

Knockout had to admit, it was a pretty smart tactic on Megatron's part. The Decepticons had the strategic advantage for a while until the Autobots caught on. It also served as powerful propaganda of the power that Megatron had.

The datapad had another seventy-five pages analyzing the effects of the language switch, but Knockout wasn't interested in that. He skipped chapters until one caught his optic.

"How to speak the language".

He nearly gasped when he saw a full tutorial on the basics of the speech. How could anyone remember this many details about a language that was practically dead? And the rumors said that a Decepticon ghost had written this. No Decepticon remembered.

Knockout walked back over to the datapad on the floor in the middle of the room. This ghost had some explaining to do.

"How do you remember Cybertronian? It was forced out of us eons ago." He asked, and then looked at the datapad for a reply.

I remember.

"But we had too speak English, or else! There's no way you could have. . ." Knockout trailed off when the datapad came back with another answer.

Maybe that's why I never spoke.

He paused. "You. . . never. . . spoke?"

A wave of realization hit him. The omniscient, simple writing. The cameras. The silence. Everything this ghost was telling him was suggesting. . .

"No. That's impossible. He died when the Autobots took control of the Nemesis. You couldn't be-"

The thud of the datapad landing on the floor cut him off.

It's surprising that even Autobots can lie.

". . Soundwave?"