Author's Notes- Hello all, hope you had a lovely new years. This chapter is censored for sexual content. Thank you for reading.

Warnings- Some chapters likely to be censored for sexual and violent- possibly triggering- content (including descriptions of abuse and torture)- see my archiveofourown (link on my profile) account for my unedited works.

Pairings- Knock Out/DJD, Knock Out/Stunticons, Knock Out/Breakdown, Megatron/Starscream, Thundercracker/Skywarp, Knock Out/Starscream/Megatron, Knock Out/Starscream and others in the future.

Disclaimer- I do not own Transformers or its characters.

Units of Time:- Astrosecond- 1 second, Klik- 1 minute, Cycle- 1 hour, Orn- 1 day, Decacycle- 1 week, Meta-cycle- 1 month, Solar cycle- 1 year, Vorn- 1 million years.

Italics- Flashbacks/thoughts/memories/link speak.

Bold- Comm speak.

Beta- The wonderful Iwanita.

All mistakes are my own.

Hope you all enjoy it.

Chapter Two- Introductions

Knock Out jolted awake, the feel of their touches fresh on his frame and venting hard for breath, for calm. Even the best times were linked with bad memory fluxes now it seemed. But there had been good times, such wonderful times…

A servo brushed his cheek, distracting him from his thoughts as he turned to smile up at his saviour. "Always here, aren't you?" the medic whispered. "Watching over me. Don't you ever recharge? Even mechs like you need your rest…"

The hand moved; a finger pressing gently against his lips as the sports car was lightly eased back down into the berth, an amused grin following him as he returned to the pillow beneath his helm.

"Fine, fine," Knock Out conceded, acknowledging his need for further rest as his optics slipped closed once more. "But you'll stay… won't you…?"

His stressed systems whirred down again, relishing the mech's indulgence that the others had long denied him.

Please stay. Please…

"And your spark."

The strong voice dripped syrup over his spark, coaxing willing compliance from him without a demand being necessary. Blinking a few times, optics resetting and refocussing a couple of times as the crimson mech tried to regain his bearings, Knock Out stared up at him with slightly quickened breaths. His attempt was shattered though as a deceptively gentle servo cupped his cheek and he was drawn closer.

"This one will do."

It was hypnotic, like being wrapped up in a magician's spell, not that Knock Out believed in any of that nonsense but still... He couldn't deny that whatever ability this mech had, it worked fragging well…

The hand moved to cup his cheek briefly, lightly caressing with a thumb, before catching and tilting his chin up to truly look into the mech's cold orbs.

It was a rare but dangerous blend in their faction; those who were both sane and sadistic. They didn't get bored of their toys as easily as the insane so an accidental death and the resulting freedom the Well offered was unlikely; had both the patience and processing power to create a true masterpiece of agony; and, most frightening of all, were always perfectly conscious of what they were doing to their unfortunate prey.

This mech was one of those, Knock Out could tell.

"What do you-" mean?

The servo moved quickly, covering his mouth as a softly spoken, "No," whiplashed lightly in warning over his spark, like a disciplinarian warming up, feeling for the vulnerable sweet spot. Ventilations catching and optics going wide, he stiffened automatically, indignation flaring as dark amusement washed over him from five different fields in a sickeningly strong wave. "It is not your place to question, at least not without permission first, and you have yet to earn that." The mech hummed quietly and a second reprimand struck his spark, the larger's field taking a firm hold of the medic's to demand submission. Optics lightening, though still glimmering with interest, Knock Out's field obediently backed down, masking the lingering resentment there with ease.

When one spent prolonged periods of time with their dear High Command, it was a trick quickly learned.

The ache within him lasted a few uncomfortable moments before fading away as if it was never there, Knock Out's spark feeling a strange emptiness once it was gone, and the medic… nodded. He'd behave himself, if his finish was respected of course.

"Perhaps some training may be necessary," the mech seemed to be rethinking his earlier words as he returned to caressing Knock Out's cheek, "But I believe you'll prove to be adequate."

The medic almost pulled away at that, but didn't particularly want to step back into the waiting arms of any of the mechs behind him, and so reluctantly held still, offended by the larger mech's low view of him.

Pit, even Megatron let him speak. Who did this mech think he was? And how rude of all of them that they hadn't even introduced themselves yet!

Before he could get into an internal rant, relatively gentle servos landed on his shoulders and gave a small squeeze. Looking over his shoulder, Knock Out met empty sockets and couldn't help but blink, though their focus wasn't really on him but the mech before him, it was no less unnerving. But… the field was friendlier than the blind mech's larger teammate's and it was clear he had good control as the electricity buzzing over Tesla coils made no contact with the CMO's cherry armour.

A look was exchanged and Tarn leaned away from Knock Out, arms crossing sternly over his chest in spite of the light indulgence bordering his field.

"I'm Kaon," the mech at his back smiled, resting his chin on his shoulder as he started to guide Knock Out in a circle in place. "This is our leader, Tarn." The medic heard a catch of something in Kaon's voice but before he could identify it, it was gone. Then they were moving again. "This is Tesarus." The mech with the blades embedded in his chest who straightened at a pointed look from his Commander. "Helex." The hot one who had grabbed him and now stared down at him with a smirk. "And Vos." The shadow who had yet to speak.

They stared at him as they were introduced, children with a new toy on Christmas morning.

And then he was back facing 'Tarn' again, at least able to name the monsters surrounding him in his domain but only feeling slightly more secure for 'Kaon's' grip on him.

What was up with their designations? Would it be healthy for him to know?

Kaon sighed softly in his audio, "Stop doing that," he murmured, "You're giving off signals you really shouldn't around with us. Your field is giving you away more than you think." If not for the dead silence in the medbay, the advice would have been private. "Relax a little, you're fine…"

Knock Out blinked, gaze flicking between Kaon and Tarn and back again, before attempting to do as he was told as well as bringing his field even closer than before, feeling the electrical mech's posture gradually loosen a bit against him.

"That's better," Kaon's smile was back, field… playful? as he quirked his helm to glance at Tarn again, and seemed to receive a grudging kind of approval. "Now… would you like to take a walk with us? We have a few things to discuss with you."

As they left the medbay, the blind mech fell back with his other teammates, his team leader coming up to the front once more to stride beside the sports car as the two were left with the illusion at least of privacy. Tesarus and Helex at the back in a protective position, sandwiching Vos and Kaon, the slightly more vulnerable, but just as valuable, members of their team, between them and their Commander; much like Seekers in formation in the air. Though Knock Out, as he was not one of them or given any true value yet, should have been at the back to make it completely accurate, behind and between Tesarus and Helex to be opposite Tarn at the front.

"Vos told us what happened between Air Commander Starscream and yourself; do you intend to report it?" Tarn suddenly questioned as he looked down on the medic, optics burning.

Knock Out made a hesitant sound, caught unprepared as he glanced away and slowly shook his helm. No, the thought hadn't even crossed his processors. Megatron had his favourites, and Starscream was always higher than him in that list. Reporting the flier would only cause him more finish-threatening annoyance over time, and angering both the Lord of the Decepticons and that of the Skies was never wise. "No, Sir."

The larger mech tutted and Knock Out's spark tensed, but nothing more was said on the matter as they passed other Cons with bowed helms that all but pressed themselves against the wall at their side. Walking down a quiet corridor, Tarn's servo rose and came down to rest on Knock Out's shoulder, as if the larger mech was trying something out. "We have read your files and you seem, barring a few indiscretions," the medic's spark lurched as if yanked forward in its chamber and his stride briefly faltered as he coaxed himself not to purge, "A useful Decepticon." The servo left his shoulder to trail down tingling plating and press firmly against the vain mech's back beneath his wheel; the sickening feeling replaced by a pleasant stroke, Knock Out blinking quickly to clear his abruptly spotted vision. "And your particular talents," another warm caress soothed the red mech, "Are intriguing.

You see, our team lacks a medic, and a recent… confrontation has indicated that we require one, despite our skills. Lord Megatron has permitted us to make use of your services for a time as a reward for our good work." Pride and adoration, tinged with what Knock Out thought to be embarrassment, reverberated through Tarn's tone; optics briefly lightening as the larger mech clearly thought of other things, before darkening again as he returned his attention to the CMO. "It remains to be seen, however, that you would be a good fit for us. I do not want the dynamics of my team disturbed by the acceptance of someone… weak-sparked; either in terms of coping with our function or their vulnerability to being led astray. And the latter is where your record suggests you might fail us, and that would be unforgiveable…"

The group stopped as the barely used corridor quickly became absolutely deserted other than them, Knock Out clutching his chest and gasping as his spark heated, sliding helplessly between pleasure and borderline agony, leaning heavily against the other's side to keep himself upright.

"Please…" The plea left his lips without his consent as he was dragged closer against Tarn's chest; the spark charmer hushing him and allowing his spark a few minutes to unwind.

"I want your word Knock Out," Tarn spoke softly, unyielding servo rubbing his metal firmly, ability now used to soothe and calm, though never quite completely. "That you will remain loyal and deny the temptations I know your spark to have. You gave up the skies for the Cause," there was a hint of praise in the otherwise uncaring voice, "You can give more, can't you? For your own good of course… After all, we'd hate for your name to gain a place on our List with other traitors and failures, hmm?"

"List?" Knock Out shivered, remembering those designations he had been told to remove from the medical records recently, despite the tense and no doubt temporary stalemate between the factions in Iacon that had left actual confrontations rare as each side plotted long-term strategies. "You've been… killing other Decepticons?"

It was the wrong thing to say, Tarn's engines giving an affronted growl at the accusation, but Kaon again quietly intervened, sliding past Tesarus who seemed more interested in the shadows he could see moving in the vents above them than the scene playing out in front of him. "Only those that have betrayed us, and disgraced themselves badly enough that they can't ever redeem their worth. It is for the good of Lord Megatron. If you are innocent of wrongdoing, you are safe from punishment, as you are and many others. We are not without processor and can control ourselves. If we could not, we'd be as useless as those we… correct."

The blind mech then backed off again with a final calming stroke to both their fields, which Knock Out answered with a degree of apology in his for both Tarn and Kaon, recognising when to back down. "I have had… bad experiences," he half-muttered, leaning back to look into his supposed superior's optics. "With others attacking me and giving me death threats because they think I am an easy target because of my size and build, and my chosen profession. I did not mean to insult you, but I cannot help but be cautious, for my… own good?" He tried to pacify Tarn with a weak, but hopeful smile that he had not gone too far over the line.

After a few tense moments, the team leader gave a nod, letting Knock Out's spark pulse normally again. That was until, "Leave us," Tarn's focus remained on the medic as he directed an order to his squad that was unsurprisingly quickly obeyed so that the pair was alone, the larger coming down to the medic's level as the pedesteps faded away. "A mech such as you has much to fear in our faction," his tone brooks no argument, "Despite your reputation, you do better when your subjects are already strapped down than when you have to do the catching and binding yourself. You require both protection and assistance to survive which I know our Lord grants you because your skills are necessary, but… you are frightened of the retaliation that may come from reporting those who are a danger to you, and I'm sure you have no wish to bother our Master with tedious matters. Perhaps then we could form a mutually beneficial arrangement, yes?"

Knock Out could only nod, optics dull, caught in the spell.

"You come with us and tend to us as necessary, and I trust with strict confidentiality?" Tarn barely waited for a second bob of the helm, "And we protect you from the harm you are unwilling to disturb Lord Megatron with, and allow us to train you into becoming a stronger Decepticon; one more likely to avoid being added to the List than you currently are. Other terms can be negotiated later, but for now…" He rested his helm on Knock Out's, field saturating the medic's with a heavy dominance, "Do we have a deal, little one?"

The medic might have balked at the demeaning nickname had it not been for the almost suffocating influence Tarn was holding over him with such ease, a power that made denial impossible. "Yes, Sir, but I need… I need to be able to question. If I don't know what's going on, I cannot adequately prepare to take care of you…"

"Then you will be told what I deem necessary, and perhaps if you prove trustworthy, I may grant you more with time if I see fit to." Tarn rubbed Knock Out's cheek, smugness bordering his field, and the medic knew somehow that this round had not been a draw but a loss on his part.

Whether he wanted to or not, he was playing Tarn's game.

"Then… yes, we have a deal," the sports car conceded.

But, unlike with most Decepticons, there was an upside to submitting to the breath stealing mech that the medic would quickly learn. Turning Knock Out to face the route his subordinates had taken, the larger mech guided him after them. "We are still quite unknown in the ranks," Tarn's voice was like treacle down his back strut, "But we have found our reputation to be growing rapidly despite not many knowing what to call us. We are the Decepticon Justice Division, named to commemorate the first five cities of Cybertron our faction conquered, and we hunt those who have transgressed against our Master and punish them accordingly. We have been told we require a medic," the word was jarringly spoken, a high note in a low-pitched symphony that clearly did not belong, "Because some recently added List members have been predicted to cause us a challenge when we catch up with them, and as we have had minor damage in the past. It is a prudent course of action to enlist someone like you for emergencies, but you must not allow yourself to be injured. Vos has minor medical skills, but his strength is in other sciences. If you are severely damaged while with us, then it is a strong possibility that you may deactivate before we can reach assistance for you. Though… I suppose you are welcome to watch the crescendo of our chases. I'm sure you will learn some valuable lessons from them."

Knock Out couldn't help but think that Tarn reminded him of Starscream, though with a far more pleasant voice to listen to. The larger mech clearly liked to hear himself talk under the guise of giving him useful information. Nodding along silently but not checking his nails or something of the kind as he listened as he would with the SIC, paying more attention to the DJD's leader than the flier as he was somewhat interested in what Tarn had to say.

That, and Tarn could do him a lot more damage than Starscream ever could with those large, strong servos…

Hmmm… Those weren't bad, not at all.

Tarn suddenly halted, gaze having caught the appreciative glance Knock Out had given him, a smirk becoming visible in orbs that reminded the CMO of when Praxus had gone up in flames quite some time ago now.

A look was exchanged and an entirely new song started in Tarn's voice as he resumed speaking, describing the various functions of the group. Tarn, the leader and the tank with weaponized conversation at his disposal for an execution technique. Kaon, the List Keeper, communications officer and electric chair, with a pet, half-tamed sparkeater. Vos, the scientist and sniper rifle, Knock Out's likely choice of nurse in emergencies, with a very unique face mask. Tesarus, the walking grinder and one half of the backbone of the DJD's muscle. Helex, the living smelter, and Tesarus's other half.

Back in the medbay, as Soundwave's twins reported how the first meeting between the DJD and Knock Out had played out, Tarn and the sports car found themselves alone, the door clicking locked behind them as the CMO found himself swept off his pedes and taken through to his own quarters with a gasp of surprise.

Censored- see archiveofourown for the missing scene.

When Knock Out awoke, bleary optic-ed a couple of hours later, he was sprawled over Tarn's chest, the rest of the DJD bearing down on him with matching grins.

"Ours now?" Kaon purred, electricity buzzing between coils.

"Ours," Tarn answered firmly before Knock Out could, grip tightening around the medic's small, self-repairing frame.

And the medic couldn't argue otherwise despite worrying what his brothers, what Breakdown, would think, slipping easily, helplessly back into recharge as Tarn hummed a gentle melody in his audio.

Thoroughly claimed and wondering what the frag had happened, and if he had not just lost a round but the whole game already…

And had that been what he had wanted from the beginning?

Knock Out's servo was given a reassuring squeeze, a warm field blanketing him, as he recharged; the mech above him ever watching and waiting for the right time. And now it had come, he hoped that the gamble he was taking was going to pay off…

Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it.