Being an Autobot didn't change him all that much. He was still snarky, shrewd, egotistical, and maintained a rather large superiority complex. He schemed. He cheated. He lied. He put himself before others when not under the careful watch of Ultra Magnus. He took his role seriously, but didn't hesitate to milk it for all it was worth.
"Relax, Bumblebee, it's just a little once around the block. It's not like I'm deserting or anything."
The black and yellow mech looked apprehensive. "I don't know, Knock Out." He glanced back at the screens he was supposed to be monitoring. "You are the only real medic on the planet. What if-"
"Precisely my point!" Knock Out's optics narrowed dangerously. "I slave day after day assessing, sorting and filing datawork. I spend every waking moment either under the extreme pressure of being sole physician on this planet while attempting to resurrect bots who should by all means be dead or wearing a smile on my face as I waste my time tending to the most menial repairs that even the halfwit trainees you and Magnus keep sending me could accomplish without a second thought!" He threw his arms up dramatically. "Speaking of which, who decided that a narcissistic medic such as myself—of Decepticon origin, I might add—was the best suited for instructing the new sparks in the medical profession? Why not bridge up that old crank-case of yours? Clearly he is more trustworthy than I, whom you 'Bots keep under constant surveillance even after I have proved my loyalty time and time again!"
Bumblebee remained quiet as he waited for Knock Out to finish his ranting. It was annoying, but it was a part of who he was. Optimus would have accepted this fact with patience. Bumblebee was determined to do the same.
"How long will I be expected to play the part of a perfect, little Autobot slave before I am trusted to go on a simple drive without need of a babysitter? And furthermore, how exactly does keeping me on such a short leash imply your precious principals of freedom to the Newsparks? And wipe that smirk off your face before I do it for you!"
Knock Out huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, reminding Bumblebee of Miko when she didn't get her way. The scout turned warrior couldn't help grinning at his former foe.
Knock Out was funny.
"Sorry," he mumbled, attempting to take on a more solemn disposition. "You were saying?"
Knock Out frowned. "I was saying," he started with a growl. "You can't expect me to spend my life as your prisoner of war. I demand to be granted freedom equal to that of everyone else on this planet!"
A pause.
Bumblebee waited for Knock Out to continue. When he didn't, Bumblebee turned his attention back to the monitors. He placed his servos on the console and began searching for a specific file.
"Didn't you hear me?" Knock Out all but screamed.
Bumblebee smiled. He tapped the console and watched as an itinerary log popped up on the main screen, followed by a recent security feed of one red Aston Martin pulling up to the hospitals loading docks, transforming and sneaking in after a night of racing.
The yellow bot turned to face his colleague with a mischievous grin.
"Typically, when someone wants to be trusted they don't shirk their responsibilities, lie to their teammates or sneak out. All of which, you did."
Knock Out's brow furrowed angrily. "Typically, medics aren't reduced to overworked, underpaid slave laborers whose only means of clearing their mind is skipping their energon rations in order to slip out into the darkness of night for a ten minute drive."
Bumblebee shrugged and returned his attention to the monitors once more. "Drive, then."
Knock Out watched the young warrior cautiously. Drive? Just like that? No threats? No conditions? No favors? "What's your angle, bug?"
Bumblebee momentarily tensed at the nickname, but otherwise didn't show any signs of offence. He shook his helm. "No angle, Knock Out. You're right. You should be treated the way everyone else gets treated." He pulled up a new security feed and watched its contents with rapt interest. Knock Out leaned in to see what was happening, but before he could make out the scene Bumblebee had switched the feed again. Bumblebee glanced up at him. "But only if you're pulling your weight just like everyone else."
The medic rolled his optics. Not quite an angle, but pretty close by Autobot standards he supposed. "Fine, fine. I'll give a seminar on optical surgery or whatever." He spun on his heals and strutted out of the room, feeling as though he had accomplished some great task by convincing a Bot to let a Con run free for the day. And without any kind of reverse manipulation on Bumblebee's part.
"Hey, Doc! Wait up!"
Knock Out froze in place, optics widening in horror.
No. No, no, no. He wouldn't! Would he?
The orange and yellow Sparkling slid to a stop just barely ahead of him. He had grown a significant amount now that his frame was fully developed. A bit of a late bloomer, this one. He stood a full helm taller than Knock Out; his shoulders had broadened a bit, though he still maintained a sleek design.
"Hot Rod," he greeted, attempting to mask the irritation in his voice. It was a skill he had become quite good at over the past few months since Cybertron had been reborn. "What… What are you doing here?"
The Sparkling met his gaze and smiled excitedly. "Bee said you were going for a drive and I've been stuck in the record hall sorting files all day—well, I guess I'm not really stuck since I volunteered for it, but you know what I mean—and he said he thought it would be good for me to get out and Magnus never lets me do anything, but Bee said he would cover for me and- Mfft!"
Knock Out slapped a servo over the Sparkling's mouth and frowned. "Honestly, Hot Rod, you're as bad as that Blurr fellow sometimes." He removed his servo and crossed his arms over his chest. "So he did have an angle," the medic growled.
"What?"
Knock Out shot the Sparkling an icy glare. "I don't need a babysitter, Hot Rod. And I especially don't need a stupid, overactive Newspark tagging along to report every little thing I do!"
Hot Rod shuttered his optics. "But…" He looked confused. Not to mention a little hurt. "I'm not going to… Never mind," he said, offering a small smile and turning to leave.
Knock Out sighed. Ever since his first real conversation with the Sparkling, he had never been able to turn him away. "Wait."
Hot Rod spun on his heels, beaming. "I can come?"
Knock Out shrugged. "Sure. Whatever." He smirked. "Keep up, kid."
Soundwave considered his mission carefully. He did not know the nature of it. Only that Megatron had seemed agitated, almost panicked, when he had sent the request for immediate medical assistance. Soundwave started piecing together different scenarios that might render such a reaction, but then decided that such ideas were of no use to him at the moment and quickly put the thoughts to rest.
Where could he find a medic?
Naturally, of course, the Autobot CMO would be on earth for another couple orbital cycles, leaving Knock Out as Head of Medicine on Cybertron until his return.
Soundwave had learned their routines while trapped in the Shadowzone.
Knock Out would be the most qualified Cybertronian at the moment to deal with whatever ailment had befallen Megatron, but convincing him to lend aid now that he had deserted the Decepticon cause for the Autobot life might be a challenge. Soundwave would have to watch him carefully as he operated.
The spymaster flew high over the newly constructed hospital. It took only a second to link himself with the building's database. The Autobots really needed to work on their security systems. He patched into the mainframe and momentarily disrupted the sensors while he landed and entered from the top floor.
He traveled through three levels using the security feed to ensure he took routes that would keep his presence a secret, but found no sign of the former Decepticon doctor. He checked the logs twice, but could not find anything to convince him Knock Out was not still in the building. Then again, the medic had always had a tendency to run off without permission or notice. He scanned over the feeds of the day, finding nothing even remotely interesting, until he came across a small, red bot storming out the rear exit.
Soundwave navigated through the corridors until he found the main control room. There, after a quick shock and drop to the security drones, he was able to use the system to hack into the Autobots' super computer: Teletran 1. He replayed Megatron's message to himself as a reminder of his necessity for promptness and began combing through the mess of surveillance footage for the entirety of the populated city until he came across an image of his quarry leaving Autobot Headquarters with a Cybertronian Soundwave did not recognize racing after him.
A quiet pinging at the back of his mind managed to catch his attention.
Teletran 1 had detected the security breach and notified the Autobots. They would be arriving shortly.
Soundwave scrubbed his image from the mainframe, tore from the room and out the nearest exit.
Now to find Knock Out.
Heat.
That's all he knew.
The searing heat rippled through his frame, never giving him a moment's rest.
The world was blinking around him. In and out. In and out. He knew his body was moving. He might have even been speaking, or at least making noise, but it was all just a distant dream.
Heat. Awful, painful heat.
Someone was speaking to him.
Stay? Stay here?
Why would anyone want him to stay? No one wanted him around.
His wings hurt.
Don't? Now they didn't want him to stay?
He gasped and clawed at the ground below him. Was he on the ground? No. He was on a tower. He was at Darkmount.
No.
No, he wasn't at Darkmount anymore. He was in the ruins. He was on a berth.
How did he get here?
His vision returned, albeit blurry. Someone was standing over him. Someone familiar.
He was speaking.
Should he be afraid? Of course he should. He was supposed to be afraid.
So why wasn't he?
How did he get here?
The world faded again.
More talking. This time angrier. More desperate.
His wings hurt.