Chapter Three! I am really sorry for the long wait!
She woke to complete darkness. It was cold and damp, the wetness seeping into her core. Her helm pounded, a booming thud that hurt each time it happened. She shivered, and the movement revealed that she was restrained. She focused on a way to get out of her containment when a movement in her peripheral vision caught her optic.
A figure sat in the shadows, a mech based on the frame type. If the rattling noise was anything to go by, the mech's armor was shifting and flaring from his trembling frame. But who was it? Why was she...?
The memories came crashing back, and Arcee struggled in her uncomfortable seat.
"Knock Out, if you don't let me go right now, I swear to Primus, you will regret it for the rest of your life!"
Normally the vain medic would have responded with one of his irritating jibes, but nothing but silence answered.
"Are you ignoring me? Knock Out, answer me!"
Silence screamed and worry and suspicion pierced her spark as she recalled the strange events that had occurred over the past joors.
"Knock Out?"
The red mech turned his helm towards her, his optics blazing bright. Without a noise he stood, the strange gracefulness and deadliness comparable to that of a terrestrial snake, and made his way over to her. His pedes scraped against the rough metal floor, harsh and grating noises abusing her audio receptors. As he neared, however, Arcee noticed that his paint was no longer red, but pitch black. Purple biolights peppered his servos like veins, and his long claws glinted silver in the dim lighting. His optics, bloody crimson one moment, had switched to a dark, menacing purple. Large and elegant wings were flared wide behind him, twitching irregularly as if they could not decide which direction they wanted to move in.
This was not Knock Out.
He did not have wings, he was not black, his optics were not purple and he was surely not as slagging creepy as this...so who the pit was this?
The mech continued to make his way over to her, pedes screaming and dragging against the jagged ground. He was silent, not acknowledging her determined struggling. His faceplate remained devoid of emotion, as blank as a sheet of refined scrap metal. His piercing gaze unnerved her, as well as the faint rumble coming from his engines.
"Where is Knock Out?"
The mech froze, optics narrowing. A grin suddenly appeared and long and pointed dentia were revealed, flashing in the dim light. A rumbling snarl came from the mech as his optics burned viciously.
"Your pathetic excuse for a medic is not here at the moment." His voice was deep and rumbling, chilling her to the core. She flinched as a razor-thin claw carved its way down the side of her faceplate, leaving a burning scar in its wake.
A rumbling purr escaped the mech as he leaned closer. His exvents were ice-cold, making her shiver even more.
"Can I take a message?"
A sharp pain laced throughout her helm, and the last thing she saw were the Energon-stained dentia looming before her.
"We have a search-and-rescue situation." Ultra Magnus stood at the head of the room, his towering frame nearly reaching the ceiling. "One of our members has been kidnapped, but her kidnapper's intentions are unclear. Knock Out will clearly not give us any more information, therefore time is of the essence."
"Do you think he'd actually dissect Arcee?" Smokescreen questioned, his doorwings displaying his concern. "He wouldn't really do that, would he?"
"We do not know what to expect," Ultra Magnus rumbled. "Bulkhead, report."
The massive Wrecker spoke up, shifting in his seat. The chair creaked and groaned, protesting at the movement. "I was following Arcee's signal right before it vanished. She was here"—he brought up a map of Cybertron, narrowing it down to an old battlefield, the same one Ratchet had described—"before her signal vanished."
"Was she acting strangely before communications cut off?"
"No, sir. I warned her about the tricks he had up his sleeve, but she dismissed them without a second thought, hung up, and then…this happened." He motioned around the room.
"What 'tricks' does this Knock Out currently possess?" Ultra Magnus demanded. He had had little experience with the former Decepticon medic, the most being when they had 'worked' together under Optimus' command before his sacrifice.
"Many." Bumblebee spoke up, his optics spinning. "He may seem to care about only his appearance, but if you mess it up, he can and most likely will attempt to decapitate you."
"He can be a somewhat formidable fighter," Smokescreen added, his optics brightening as he came from whatever thoughts that were occupying his processor.
"Truth be told, it's his mouth that's his best weapon," Bumblebee continued. "He loves to irritate his opponents."
"You're just saying that 'cause he mouthed off to you when you lost your T-Cog," Wheeljack muttered irritably, appearing from the shadows. His armor was flared and his mouth was set in a scowl so deep it gave the impression of being permanently carved into his faceplates.
"You have no reason to talk," the black and yellow warrior retorted. "You've been acting weird ever since Knock Out called. What's with you?"
The swordsmech narrowed his optics, his engine growling with a thinly veiled warning, as his wings flared. But before he could respond, Magnus cut them off.
"Enough with the childish bickering. This investigation will be performed strictly by-the-book, and nothing else. Settle your personal matters elsewhere," the massive blue mech rumbled, optics flashing in challenge as Wheeljack made to retort.
At that moment, the door to the meeting room opened. Ratchet entered, looking worse for the wear, with a datapad in each hand. His optics were dim with exhaustion, yet he held himself with his normal irritated and rigid posture.
"Doctor, what are you doing here?" Ultra Magnus demanded, crossing his servos.
Ratchet scowled at the superior's attempt at intimidation. "There is something you should see." With a light thud the medic slid the datapads across the table to the commander, leaning heavily against the large piece of furniture.
"What is this?" Magnus glanced up at the weary medic.
The red and white mech shuttered his optics, venting heavily. "Actually take the time to read it and you'll find out," he muttered in a bitter tone.
Ultra Magnus narrowed his optics at the faint sign of insubordination, yet knew he could not take it out on the elder mech or risk getting a certain tool to the helm. Quietly, he examined the information given, aware of the gazes of the others pinned on him.
Medical File: Nemesis Staff: Officers.
Identification Serial: 0015723-96872313.
Type: Patient Examination.
Time: Eighteen hundred vorns after start of the Great War.
Patient Designation: Knock Out.
Gender: Mech.
Height: 7.62 terrestrial meters.
Occupation: Chief Medical Officer.
Affiliation: Undetermined. Beneficial in negligible terms to warring factions. Decepticon as of present.
Cause of Appointment: Complaints filed frequently throughout warship pertaining to bizarre personality behaviors. Suspected of possessing more than one disposition.
Accused Retort: Protestation to aforementioned matter.
Medical Examination Results: Indications of frequent helm aches and blackouts. Cannot recall certain events; indubitable unknown work at play. Further examination required and scheduled as of six quartexes from now.
Subject Due to Change/Result Alteration: Appointment moved to earlier location and time. Nonnegotiable.
Additional Observations: Subject noticed to have abnormal mood changes. Sadistic intentions arise. Dangerous to any being near him.
The leader of the Autobots looked up, meeting the cold cerulean glare of the medic. "Explain this."
With a hoarse and slightly exasperated vent, Ratchet straightened and headed over to stand near the blue mech, taking the datapad from his servos and projecting it onto the center screen for all to see.
"Read this. All of you."
After they did so, all was silent. Bumblebee was the one to speak up.
"Ratchet, what does this mean? By the sound of it, this only speaks about Knock Out having some sort of amnesia problem caused by blackouts."
"Something he failed to mention to us, despite his saying that there were no medical files on him." The medic's armor shifted as he leaned forward, bracing his arms against the table.
"And this report's significance to our investigation?" Magnus rumbled.
Ratchet met the Commander's gaze and held it steadily, enough to cause slight discomfort in Ultra Magnus, as his digits moved swiftly over the holographic keyboard display in front of him. Another file came up.
They did not have to be informed to analyze the proffered information.
Medical File: Nemesis Staff: Officers
Identification Serial: 0015723-96872313
Type: Patient Examination
Time: Twenty three million vorns after end of the Great War.
Patient Designation: Knock Out.
Gender: Mech.
Height: 7.62 terrestrial meters.
Occupation: Chief Medical Officer.
Affiliation: Decepticon.
Cause of Appointment: Reported incidents of uncontrollable rages resulting in forced unconsciousness. Death count: 50.
Accused Retort: Cannot recall event clearly.
Medical Examination Results: Traces of fragmented memories. Revealed corruption shown and spreading; unable to determine cause: unknown.
Subject Due to Change/Result Alteration: Additional medic summoned; emotional command cortex fragmented. Ailment in treatment as of now.
Additional Observations: Driven to a psychopathic rage when questioned regularly; restraints needed. Necessary precautions taken. To be dealt with immediately.
"Wait, he killed fifty Cybertronians, all at once?" Smokescreen asked, optic ridges furrowing in confusion. "There's more to Knock Out than meets the optic."
"Apparently." Ratchet looked to the mech at the head of the table. "Do you understand what this means?"
Ultra Magnus' engine rumbled. "However unlikely it may be, Knock Out is unaware of his actions." The cold glare sharpened dangerously. "Yet I still do not see how this relates to our current situation, despite our former Decepticon's obliviousness."
Ratchet seemed ready to strangle the mech, yet he forced himself not to by clenching his servos into fists. "These are Knock Out's unscrambled encryptions." The screen shifted and rearranged itself, displaying a long and jumbled list of mismatched words and phrases. They all analyzed the given information.
"Ratchet, I'm confused." Bulkhead spoke up. "Is Knock Out here" -he pointed to a strange glyph on the screen that loosely translated to Pits of Kaon -"or here?" He motioned to another series of letters and numbers referring to Iacon Central.
"I don't get this at all," Bumblebee sighed, narrowing his optics as if it were going to assist him in the complicated task. "How old is this type of encryption?"
"Very," Ratchet responded. "These are what Soundwave used as a gladiator when he transmitted different radio frequencies to scramble his opponent's processor enough for him to take them down or enough to fry them completely." He felt their curious stares and did not look away from the screen as he shook his helm and cleared his vents. "Don't ask."
"So the Mad Doctor's actually psycho?" Wheeljack demanded, his patience thinning. He couldn't just leave her out there with that annoying little glitch...
"As much as I do not like to admit it, yes." Ratchet looked to Ultra Magnus, who sat with his chin rested against his steepled digits.
You cannot afford to lose a member so early after your unofficial ranking raise. It will not bode well.
Losing one member is not as bad as losing an entire team. Or did you forget that?
How could I possibly forget? The female warrior is one of the best of this small team. Losing her would be detrimental to the stability.
When have you cared about stability? You barely have any yourself.
As do you.
Ooh, getting fancy with the retorts, are we? Spending time with these insignificant younglings is rubbing off of you.
I happen to be informing you as of now that these 'insignificant younglings', as you call them, are a highly capable team better than you would ever know.
Smart-aft.
Likewise.
"Uh...sir?"
He opened his optics to find every mech staring at him, Wheeljack being the only one in brewing and approaching violent anger. Ratchet kept his unblinking gaze on him, shrouded with the cloud of slight suspicion and concern.
"What would you like us to do?" Bumblebee questioned, doorwings flicking.
"Ratchet has the location narrowed down to an old medbay in the Pits of Kaon, if you didn't hear earlier," Smokescreen added, optics bright with warring emotions.
"He probably didn't," Wheeljack muttered, hissing as Bulkhead elbowed him roughly, enough to irritate his freshly welded armor.
"It has been confirmed that Knock Out is mentally ill and unaware of his current actions." Magnus rose to his pedes and headed out of the room, his team following, and entered the main Ground Bridge control room. Ratchet typed in the coordinates and the machine whirred to life, roaring with the mechanical hum of advanced technology.
Ultra Magnus faced his team. "We now know where Knock Out is keeping Arcee, albeit in a place we will have to narrow down." The portal hummed as if content with the location decision and whirred as the massive blue mech led his team through it.
It was cold and dark. An uncommon icy draft moaned, echoing off the large and dilapidated buildings. Light was provided only by their optics, weapons, and biolights.
Ultra Magnus activated a private and encrypted comm. line. /Bumblebee, scout ahead and report back immediately should you find anything. Smokescreen, accompany him and keep your guard up./
The scout gave a thumbs-up and darted forward, doorwings flared to take in as much data as possible. Smokescreen followed, blaster raised and aimed as he watched his teammate's back, ready to shoot to kill in order to keep his friend safe.
/Bulkhead and Wheeljack: you will stay with me. Keep your optics peeled./ Magnus powered up his handheld blaster and activated the silencer it was equipped with as he addressed all of them.
/Do not underestimate our foe. Take every step wisely and do not fall for any type of stratagem. Autobots, transform and roll out!/
Two deep mauve optics glared from the inky darkness of an alleyway. Long talons scraped against the rusted metal walls of the nearest building, leaving deep and jagged scars in their wake. A slight, disturbing grin revealed huge and toxic fanged dentia that gleamed in the diseased light.
He chuckled, tracing his glossa over his Energon-stained servos.
"Let the game begin."
...this escalated quickly, didn't it? Sorry. Hope you like. There will be longer chapters, I promise!
R&R, pleaze! Suggestions, concerns, and questions welcomed!
Bye!