Thank you everyone, you guys are so awesome. I always make sure to reply to everyone's comments but if I didn't, you don't have pm enabled so thank you too!

A lot of viewpoints going on here. A change in POV is marked with XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX. I only mark changes when they are extreme or have a time overlap. We get a little Breakdown and Knockout time. Yay!

Chapter Warning/Tags/Kinks-I think none, wwwhaat?! That's a first.


Chapter 3-Collisions


After letting slip that tidbit about Megatron, Makeshift didn't speak again. He slumped against the tub and endured the medic's busy motions with a blank expression. Knockout went about his work solemnly acknowledging the fact that he just screwed up by adding to his already vulnerable patient's pain. It was only a fleeting acknowledgment though as he was too preoccupied with struggling to keep his own rampant emotions in check. Otherwise he would be up in Megatron's faceplates already; to say that wasn't the wisest decision was an understatement of epic proportions. No, he needed to finish his work and then get some recharge before he confronted his leader.

Glorious recharge, I think I've almost forgotten what it's like. Taking care of Makeshift was occupying a good portion of his spare time, which was almost nonexistent anyways. Megatron was calling him in to the med bay almost every night to repair drones in addition to his normal shift. He would go to his quarters, spend a little time alone or with Breakdown when he was lucky, and then he was getting called back in. Every shift was filled with monotonous repairs that gave him a processor-ache, and yet their leader insisted on demanding his presence even on his off time.

It wasn't just him though. Breakdown and the drones were getting sent out on more and more missions, Soundwave was seen on the bridge more frequently than before, if that was even possible, and Airachnid almost wasn't seen at all. Their lord was always working on something, whether it was the light or dark half of the solarcycle. It seemed as though Megatron wasn't recharging as well lately and he had deemed it fitting to make everybot just as miserable him.

Maybe he just needs a good frag. Returning to his work with that amusing thought in his processor, Knockout leaned over absentmindedly to refill the tub, which caused his EM field to brush against Makeshift's, finally having returned after being a tightly-coiled, emotionless thing. Knockout physically recoiled as if having been slapped in the faceplates. The field was brimming with a seething rage so complete there wasn't an ounce of any other emotion in it. Makeshift turned to look at him while simultaneously drawing his field back and wrapping it around himself like an angry, protective blanket.

They stared at each other for a while, neither saying anything. Knockout was aghast. What has happened to make him capable of that level of emotion? The torture was awful yes, and the medic could understand pain, anger, betrayal, grief; all of those emotions swirling together in an attempt to cope with these encounters. This unadulterated wrath was beyond compensation, and he had felt it before in mechs who were pushed beyond their breaking points.

When anger built to a place of completeness, it almost became an entity all its own. It assaulted the processor as if a virus and ate at a bot's mind, destroying it from the inside out. They were consumed by it, led astray by it until they were unrecognizable to others and others were nothing but targets to them. The anger lost direction and they lashed out at everybot and everything that came across their paths. Eventually there was nowhere else for the rage to go and it was turned inward toward the host. The unbiased fury continued to ravage the mind as it made to ruin the body. That anger spoke volumes and what it said was that Makeshift, reserved, light-sparked, and quietly sarcastic Makeshift, was actually consumed by self-loathing and probably disdain for his fellow Decepticons.

But… something was different. Knockout had witnessed this crawling slide into insanity before, more times than he had wished, and inevitably all of those bots had been put down as the mindless beasts they had become. None of them had ever felt like Makeshift though. None of them had ever been able to rein their anger in, hide it, suppress it, change it even. They carried it with them wherever they went, dragging it around and leaking onto everybot else, but Makeshift was not angry like this in the past, at least not in public. There had been many interactions between them and Knockout had never felt this emotion from him before.

An EM field was not like a face or body or voice to be schooled how you pleased. It could be drawn inward, suppressed even but never faked. Emotions felt in the field were true to a bot's very core, and Knockout had felt happiness among other positive emotions from Makeshift. So the question now was: Is Makeshift really different? Is he capable of rapid, extreme emotional shifts to such an extent that are actually his way of coping, or is he a mech that has crossed a threshold and all that is left is a volatile explosion waiting to happen?

Knockout looked at him, really looked at him but there was no answer to be deciphered from just his outward appearance. It had been quite some time since they had started this contest of optics when finally the shifter broke the silence, "I wish to be alone, Knockout." His tone wasn't angry like Knockout had expected and neither were the small flicks of field contact that he was, hopefully unnoticeably, leaning in to get. Everything about him was empty.

Makeshift's emotions were in turmoil, shifting with processor-bending quickness, and he was apparently very experienced at hiding it. Luckily the medic's own distractedness earlier had caused him to invade another's space when normally he would keep well away from a traumatized patient's EM field. Too much emotional leakage and backlash. If it hadn't been for the accidental field contact he would never have known any of this. Always before, the shifter was lackluster after an attack but he seemed to return to his normal relaxed self relatively quickly. Now the red sports car wondered just how much of it was an act. Just how damaged is this mech, really?

"Uh… sure. You have healed enough that you can shift back now. I will need to come by later and assess the full extent of your damage, if that's okay?"

"That will be fine." His gaze clearly said, 'get the frag out.' Knockout wanted to say more but this wasn't the right time. There would be a right time and it would be when he was more prepared. He needed to speak with Megatron and find out just what in The Pit was going on; why their lord was allowing this physical abuse and who knew what else to happen to one of his officers.

Gathering some of his lighter equipment, he moved toward the door when a small sigh brought his attention back to the other. He was staring off into the distance with a forlorn expression, only his profile visible to the sports car. "Knockout…" and the tone was now sad.

"Yes?"

"Thank you," and the gratitude felt just as genuine as every other emotion he had displayed.

"You're welcome but I am the medic. It's my job." At that, Makeshift gave him a small smile, a little closer to his seemingly normal self. Knockout was once again surprised at the emotional shift and how resilient this mech seemed to be despite the obvious long-term abuse. Maybe it wasn't an act, maybe it had been going on so long he had compartmentalized his life. These events happened, he dealt with it, and then it was forgotten. He couldn't solve this equation because he didn't have all the variables. Whether Megatron liked it or not, Knockout had every intention of getting to the bottom of this mess. After all, Makeshift could snap at any moment and he would be a mighty convenient target, standing so close.

"I appreciate your care as well but I meant… thank you for not being one of them," his voice trailed off at the end.

One of them? "I don't understand."

"I know." He fell silent once again and the dismissal, although much lighter than the previous one, was still evident. Knockout left the room confused by his comment but too tired to think about it at the moment. He had already done way too much thinking on top of a very long night and his processor needed some rest. Later. Later I will figure this out.

Practically dragging his pedes the whole way, he finally made it to the quarters he shared with Breakdown. Inside, he went straight for the berthroom and collapsed onto the berth beside his still recharging partner. The movement was enough to engage Breakdown's startup protocols and he began to stir. "Morning," he said when his vocalizer booted up.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Knockout mumbled groggily, quickly going through the minimum diagnostics necessary before he could power down.

"What?"

"I'm sorry I woke you," he said with a little more force.

"That's okay. I enjoy your wakeup calls," his lover replied mischievously. Knockout felt the berth shift and then large, warm servos ghosting up his backplates. The touch left a tingling trail of alight sensors that felt great, but wasn't enough to arouse him given his current state. Before Breakdown could reach his tires and really get him going, he turned to stare at his lover. Breakdown's field was heavy with arousal already, but he felt the stutter of confusion that came with his slight rebuke.

"Breakdown, as much as I love it when you pound me into the berth, I'm too tired right now. I just got back and am seriously in need of a good defrag."

Breakdown sighed heavily. "Were you with him all night?"

"No. Megatron called me in to repair some drones again last night. I was only with him for a couple megacycles this morning."

"You work yourself too hard."

"I work myself as hard as Megatron dictates."

"He did not order you to take care of Makeshift."

Knockout was surprised and a little put off by Breakdown's lack of sympathy. "Well I'm sorry if I can't just leave him alone when he's in such a pitiful state," and his words had a bite to them.

Breakdown looked ashamed at his own words. "Knockout, I'm sorry. Don't be mad. It's just that Megatron has been running you ragged lately with all the repairs and now you are spending a lot of time with Makeshift. I've… I've missed you," he finished quietly.

"Oh Breakdown, it's only been what, five solarcycles I've been tending to Makeshift?"

"Yes… but still." He looked so sad that Knockout couldn't stay mad at him. He was such a huge, strong mech on the outside that most didn't know how easily hurt he could be on the inside. And the hurt was twice as bad when it was the cherry red sports car that caused it. Breakdown had long ago made his intentions known towards the medic and he was so earnest to please him that Knockout had felt something in his spark. Neither of them had ever looked back.

"Oh come here you big oaf." Breakdown moved closer and Knockout slipped a servo behind his helm, pulling him in. "I've taken the solarcycle off so let me recharge and I'll see you when you get back from your shift."

"What about the med bay?"

"You'll be there and if there's an emergency, just tell Megatron to go fra…" and Breakdown's lip plates swallowed the rest of his words. The kiss was a gentle dance of lips, full of passion and intimacy that was beyond what simple interfacing partners felt for each other.

Breakdown pulled back for a nanoklick, "It turns me on when you talk like that," and then his mouth was covering his lover's again. This time, he slipped his glossa into Knockout's mouth, massaging the slick counterpart he found there until it pushed back against his. He pulled his glossa back, teasing Knockout with his just out of reach appendage. He slowly shifted his frame backwards at the same time coaxing Knockout to him until the sports car made an exasperated noise and shoved his own glossa into Breakdown's mouth.

The larger mech smiled at his partner's enthusiasm and his minor victory. He sucked Knockout's glossa thoroughly, enjoying the taste of his sweet oral fluid, and then yanked the smaller mech on top of himself. "Breakdown…" Knockout started to protest but he was cut off by another forceful kiss. Knockout was helpless against those perfect kisses, the big mech was always pushing for more but pulling back just enough that it didn't escalate.

Breakdown was a very giving lover. He was gentle when Knockout needed it and rough when he wanted it. They were matched up pretty well, not to mention Breakdown was so attentive to him even when they were not interfacing. He was always trying to please him, always trying to take on as much of Knockout's workload as he could to give the Aston Martin a break. Besides, where else in this universe was he going to find another mech who would buff out all the scratches in his plating they had just created together? Nowhere, that was the answer.

Breakdown's servos were running leisurely up and down his backplates, their mouths still locked together. He let his body rest on top of his blue mech, their chestplates rubbing together languidly. Knockout could feel his spark throwing out tendrils in an effort to reach the other that it knew so well. Their fields, which had moments before been sliding across one another, now pulsed as one. It surrounded them as a hot aura that felt like their own protective shield, born of devotion and something that seemed closer and closer to true love with each passing solarcycle.

When they were together the universe melted away into nothingness and all that was left was the feel of their sparks beating as one; their hot bodies moving together and the everlasting desire to be with the other for all eternity. Their lives were filled with this war and spark-wrenching loss but since they had come together, every moment spent in each other's arms was true perfection.

It wasn't long before Knockout's plating was on fire, his interface protocols apparently coming online, and an audible gasp escaped him as their lips parted. Feeling the temperature change and accompanying field distortion that took it out of sync with his own, Breakdown was more than ready to engage in some processor-blowing interfacing. Unfortunately he had to end this delicious little encounter now, otherwise he would be late for his shift… really late. "Mmm. Now I can leave."

Confused for a nanoklick, Knockout caught on to the game, "Oh, you're such an aft," he said sliding off the larger mech.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You kept telling me how you needed to recharge remember?" he replied with a smirk.

Momentarily his exhaustion had been put at bay by his arousal but it was creeping back. "Yes, yes."

Breakdown kissed him one more time and then slid off the berth. "Yes, you would leave me in need all solarcycle while you recharge and I'm the aft."

"You know that that isn't…"

"But those same perfect lips you use to call me an aft now, you can use later to make it up to me… when you are fully rested of course," he dropped that hint and then was out the door. Knockout couldn't help but smile all the way into a peaceful recharge.


As soon as the medic left, Makeshift reverted back to his normal self. He couldn't stand being in Tailgate's form any longer even if he knew shifting was going to hurt like The Pit. Anytime he sustained damage to his frame, shifting was painful as his CPU was trying to make parts that were missing take up positions already occupied by parts that weren't supposed to be there. Absurdity was probably the best word to describe the phenomenon. The level of pain was directly correlated with just how messed up his frame was and this time… he was scrapped.

He had never taken as much punishment as that night, and for once he had been frightened that she might truly offline him. Makeshift had learned quickly that entertaining Airachnid was entirely about pain. She never interfaced with him nor had she expressed any interest in doing so. Whenever she was scheduled to come by, which thankfully wasn't as often as other bots, he would take a mild sedative and pain reliever unbeknownst to her. The femme still hurt him and he still inevitably reached that point of complete numbness, but it wasn't as bad as the few times in the beginning without the chemical cocktail.

This time had been different. He had been in recharge after his time with Steve when suddenly his door started pinging. He was completely at a loss as to who it could be since no bot visited him besides his consorts. To his surprise and displeasure, Soundwave had been standing outside his door looking as calm and silent as ever. He showed a life signal aboard the Nemesis 6 decks below and heading toward the lift. With the tracking information he played a clip of Airachnid speaking to him. "You tell him I will be there in five cycles and he better be ready." The tone had clearly said she was not happy, but why was she coming here? Makeshift wasn't supposed to have to see her for another Earth week.

Having relayed the message Soundwave had turned and walked away with nonchalant, smooth strides. Makeshift had retreated to his quarters and quickly debated what to do. He hadn't had the time to take a sedative so if he shifted and admitted her than he would be without the pain reliever. If he had told her to go away, she would have made him regret it, maybe even in some way worse than normal. His choices were not good either way and he wasn't sure if his refusal would find its way to Megatron.

She had shown up exactly five cycles later in a rage and he had been waiting for her in Tailgate's form.

And oh how wrong a choice he had made.

Something had happened to infuriate the femme and she had taken it out on him, so much worse than she ever had before. The attack had been brutal and much more creative than her usual methods. It was also the first time she had ever revealed, let alone damaged his interface equipment. Maybe if he had held her off for a couple solarcycles her anger would have subsided before their session. Maybe he wouldn't be in such disastrous shape.

He didn't want to think about it anymore, didn't want to think about how badly he had messed up. He just wanted to recharge and ignore it for as long as possible, but Primus wouldn't even allow him that. His body was sore from the ordeal, newly pained from his shifting, and the water was so slagging hot. He couldn't get comfortable and fidgeted, which only caused shooting pain as his frame rubbed against the tub. He wanted to cool down but he didn't know if that would disrupt the nanites' progress. This too was his fault as he had never expressed his discomfort to Knockout. The medic had only been on board for a few decacycles and he wasn't sure how much he actually knew about a shifter's frame type. Medics were generally trained to work on most Cybertronians, but shifters had kept to themselves so much so that they had had their own medics. It meant that their frame designs and… quirks were largely unknown by outsiders.

Knockout had expressed an interest in studying him and his frame, especially as it was shifting, when they had first met. He hadn't been thrilled with the idea. The medic had said it wouldn't be invasive, mostly just scans, but Makeshift didn't believe him. He was conditioned to mistrust everybot especially those he had never met before. Plus, he already felt disconcerted enough about his frame that he didn't want somebot poking and prodding him while making comments about how different he was.

Besides, he tried to stay away from others as much as possible since in the past it usually led to more inquiries. Out of sight, out of processor or whatever the humans liked to say.

That had in fact been the thing he had worried the most about when Breakdown and Knockout had arrived. Two more mechs that could potentially want to become his… clients, but soon after boarding he realized that that was unlikely. Knockout and Breakdown were together and they were exclusive. Some rumors had been spread that they were bonded but no bot was for certain. The two didn't flaunt their relationship but they didn't hide it either. Needless to say, Megatron was not happy when he had found out but hadn't done anything about it since they were together prior to boarding the Nemesis.

This had been a welcome relief to Makeshift as he slowly began to worry less and less about their intentions. He had even begun to seek out their company in the rec. room on occasion when previously he had socialized infrequently and mostly only with Starscream. It was difficult for him to be out in the open, in the light and the heat, where everybot could look at him. He didn't like it, it made him uneasy but he desperately needed it. Shifters were thought of as loners because they didn't often indulge in the company of other Cybertronians, but they were in fact highly social amongst themselves. This had compounded his problems aboard the Nemesis because he so wanted to be out but he didn't want others to get ideas about using him. Right now he was only entertaining three bots, which was his least amount ever, but Airachnid was also his worst ever. He had never felt so shamefully used since onlining; even the rape hadn't made him feel so awful.

And that thought stirred those weird and very un-Decepticon-like feelings again. He suspected that the emotional trauma he accumulated from Airachnid's attentions was also playing with his processor but he couldn't help it. Whenever he spent a night with her, his emotions were all fragged up for solarcycles afterward. This time was no different. All of the sadness he had just staved off welled up inside him and threatened to undo him.

This was his fate, to be used like scrap metal for others' benefit and to wallow in his misery until he offlined. He couldn't say no to anybot, couldn't escape what they did to him or when they did it. He had lost control of his own life. This is my fault.

None of it mattered anyways because there was nothing out there for him besides this. He resigned himself to taking the abuse; he would play these games because he had no reason not to. That's not true, that's not why you don't fight back.

In the beginning he might have done this for the cause, maybe because it was exciting or because he got so much pleasure out of it. He continued doing it because it made his lord happy, his fellow Decepticons happy, because sometimes he could still find enjoyment in it. Now enjoyment was few and far between, and Megatron hadn't addressed him in so long he didn't know what the warlord thought.

Tell the truth. Some part of him still felt pressured to do this and he had been doing it for so long he was habituated to it, but there was one main reason he did this.

A reason…

…he couldn't deny any longer, couldn't lie about to himself anymore; he needed the release that was admitting the truth.

He did all of this… because it was the only way he felt wanted.

His reasons had changed because his emotions regarding these meetings and himself had changed. Enjoyment had turned to acquiescence, which had turned to sadness, which lead to anger, and then back to sadness. He was a whirlwind of emotions and somewhere along the way he had become a mech who wanted companionship, a Decepticon who craved the company of another.

He couldn't give his meetings up because he couldn't lose the only thing that made him feel needed. Even if they didn't want him for him he could still pretend just as much as his lovers did. His partners had become what fueled his loneliness and lack of identity, and at the same time they were the only thing keeping him going. Even in some sick, twisted way, Airachnid made him feel wanted and that was the unbearable truth.

A truth that finally allowed him to slip into recharge.


Thinking, planning, calculating, and then rethinking, re-planning, and recalculating had been his course for the last megacycle. It was all useless because no amount of planning would really change what he was about to do. He was going to call out Megatron on these vile acts and hopefully the warlord wouldn't offline him.

I'm going to offline.

The thought percolated the entire walk to the bridge and only succeeded in making him more nervous. He had debated for a long time whether or not to go through with this. On the one servo, he needed answers, on the other it wasn't his place in some ways. Makeshift really should have defended himself, and the question was: why didn't he?

The first time Knockout had gone to fix him, he thought it had been interfacing gone wrong. He dealt with it with the utmost prudence and went about as though it had never happened. When he was told about the nanite serum and then realized the attacks were recurring, he was confused about Makeshift's behavior so he put off going to Megatron. Did he like it? Was that why he allowed it? But clearly, he did not. Knockout couldn't help but keep thinking that somehow Megatron had ordered this, but he couldn't understand why the warlord would do that. It was the only explanation for Makeshift's submission but it didn't explain anything.

Makeshift's words came back to him over and over, 'Megatron knows.' It was like a slap in the faceplates, and Knockout knew he must speak with his leader immediately.

He didn't know what he was hoping to accomplish with this though. If Megatron didn't want to tell him anything then he wouldn't. Knockout was really hoping that Makeshift and Breakdown were wrong, that Megatron didn't know of these attacks and that maybe, just maybe he would put an end to this. It really would be a favor to them all of if he put an end to Airachnid altogether. The femme was a depraved, traitorous waste of cybertronium as far as he was concerned.

He paused outside the command deck doors trying to firm up his resolve because at the moment it was crumbling. Unexpectedly, the doors swooshed open and a drone crashed right into him hard enough that they both went sprawling to the floor. The drone scrambled away from him looking absolutely horrified at its actions. "Officer Knockout… please for… forgive me, sir."

Knockout looked in the drone's direction stupidly because his processor was moving slow as he had been way too wrapped up in his previous thoughts.

His mind finally caught up and he actually saw the drone for the first time. It was so nervous it looked like it might actually vibrate right out of its own frame. It had one servo extended to help the medic up, but it was shaking so severely Knockout was doubtful he could actually grab and hold onto it. He got up off the floor without the drone's help and gave it an angry scowl. It was then that he noticed the large gouges along the drone's body that had beautiful red paint transfers around the edges. He looked down and there it was, a huge scrape of pearlescent fluorite and dark silver paint traveling from chestplate to codpiece. "Ahh! Look what you've done."

"What?! What's wrong?" it said surprised and afraid.

"My paint you fool. Look at these scratches." He groaned then, realizing he wouldn't be able to fix this until much later. "I'm going to be walking around all solarcycle looking like I've been 'facing a drone." Knockout heard a sharp intake and saw that the drone looked flustered. It looked down at itself and then back at Knockout a couple of times looking more and more mortified with each passing helm flick.

"Wha… I… you… I need to go get buffed out." It turned to leave but Knockout yanked him back.

"Why do you care anyways, you drones always look fragged up." It was a rhetorical question as Knockout was contemplating his own frame but the drone started to answer anyways.

"I can't have… your paint on me… me. I'm mmm… meeting somebot… tonight." Interesting. Knockout's mind went on a spiral as he thought about the implications that the drone was obviously going to frag somebot tonight even with Megatron's orders still in place. Probably another drone. I wonder if they all frag each other. Probably all the time. Do Megatron's orders extend to the drones? He was lost in thought and had to scramble to catch the drone before it left again.

"I'm sure looking like you fragged an officer will only add to your reputation with the other drones," Knockout growled. "I will buff you out later. Don't go to the med bay."

"Why?"

"You think I want Breakdown seeing you like that and then me. Try explaining that away. Just do your duties and stay away from Breakdown. I'll explain it to him later."

"I… I'm ss…"

"Just go. Now."

"Yes, Officer Knockout." The drone scurried off and he looked down at his plating one more time in remorse. "Scrap." Well at least he wasn't nervous about speaking with Megatron anymore. "What a plus," he sighed sarcastically. With no further distractions he slipped onto the bridge. Only one of the drones looked at him when he entered but it immediately did a double take. Its surprise was definitely communicated somehow because the drones around the room started to peer at him. They tried to do it secretly but it was so obvious. Yes, this is perfect.

Megatron was distracted by whatever he was doing so the drones' diverted attentions escaped his notice. It did not however go unnoticed by Soundwave who had turned to see what was causing them to act differently. The spy gave no outward signs that he was fazed, he never did, but Knockout was almost positive he was being scrutinized.

I might as well just own it because I'm never going to live this down. Oh the look on everybots' faceplates as he strode right up to Lord Megatron's backplates and stopped just before, cocking his hip plate to the side. "My liege, I must speak with you about one of the officers. Preferably in private."

"Which officer and why?" he replied almost bored. Megatron still had his back to him and had yet to see his plating.

"Makeshift. This matter requires discretion, my lord." Megatron looked at him then and his face screwed up into a scowl.

"I know you are already taking Breakdown and apparently drones," he said gesturing at the paint transfers, "to your berth. I shall not permit you to take another, medic, so take your queries somewhere else."

"I do not know what queries you think this is regarding but I assure you I have no intentions of taking anybot to my berth besides my established partner. I must speak to you regarding Makeshift's health."

Megatron's gaze turned curious. "Go on."

"My lord, the command deck is a bit crowded at the moment."

"Out with it while I am still in the mood to humor you."

"Fine." If he wants blunt then I'll give him blunt. "Why are you allowing him to be tortured?" The entire deck fell silent. Even Soundwave turned away from his work on the console again, although his tentacles were still plugged in. The mech was a work freak, probably listening and doing calculations at the same time.

"I would watch your accusations mech before they lead to your deactivation. The arrangements I have with Makeshift are between us. I find it interesting that you are here. Did he ask you to come fight his battles for him? I never figured him for the cowardly type."

"He asked me nothing. I am here because he can't be here even if he wanted to. He is still recovering from Airachnid's intentions, which occurred almost a human week ago." In his anger, Knockout lost all discretion but whatever, Airachnid deserved it.

"Makeshift has not brought any concerns to me…" he began but Knockout cut him off.

"Because he probably doesn't wish to defy you, my lord."

"Yes, and I'm finding more and more that some bots around here have forgotten what happens to those who defy me. A demonstration might be in order." The threat was evident and Knockout made sure not to interrupt again. "As I was saying, he hasn't come to me with any issues and until such time that he does, you will leave this alone."

"My lord, I cannot. I have been a medic for a long time and seen mechs pushed to the edge. Makeshift is very close and maybe even there. I do not wish to be in the line of fire when he finally goes off the deep end, as the humans say."

"Ah, so you are concerned for yourself. That seems more like you. If Makeshift cannot handle a little pain with his interfacing then he needs to mech up. We are Decepticons after all."

"Interfacing? She does not interface with him." Could Megatron truly be in the dark? Time to find out. "We are all well aware of Soundwave's skills at surveillance, my liege. You have surely seen the torture for yourself and know that it is no 'little pain.'"

"Makeshift's rooms are without cameras. I have no need to watch such mindless pleasures being performed."

So many things weren't adding up. First, every room had cameras, no exceptions. Second, why did Megatron insist that these affairs were of a more sexual nature than the outright torture that it was? "My lord, you cannot tell me you allow him to use rooms with no cameras. You must be monitoring him somehow?"

"I have not found the need. Makeshift is a loyal soldier and knows how to follow orders." That alone was enough to tell him that whatever was happening to Makeshift had started off as orders. Perhaps in turning a blind optic to what was actually happening in the rooms, things had gotten out of servo and Megatron was none the wiser.

"If you could see it, I'm sure you would find this to be of greater concern."

"That, I highly doubt." Megatron turned his helm toward his communications officer. Soundwave was obviously speaking with him somehow and then Megatron huffed. "Oh all right. I do not have cameras in the rooms, but there is one in the hallway between his quarters and wash racks. It is set to record everything although Soundwave does not actively monitor it. Soundwave, bring up the feed from Airachnid's last visit." Why would Soundwave know when she had visited him? Whatever, he focused on the here and now because he was getting what he needed to sway Megatron. Knockout was almost certain the warlord would change his tune once he saw the true extent of Makeshift's damages.

The large monitor above the console flickered to life and showed Breakdown hurrying toward the wash racks. Two cycles later he returned to the main room and the door shut behind him. When the door opened again, Breakdown stepped out carrying the lifeless, broken frame of Tailgate, and everything on the bridge stopped.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Soundwave didn't care what other bots said about him. He didn't care about the rumors they spread or the reputation that had grown around him. None of it mattered because those who spoke were inferior to him and hence insignificant. The only ones who mattered and knew the real Soundwave were Megatron and his symbiont. He preferred to keep it that way but staring at the monitor, it was hard.

One of the most well spread rumors was that he was a cold, spying machine that was no more sentient than the drones. He was a calculating robot that was unfeeling and just as unexpressive as the sparkless Earth technologies were. It wasn't far off in some regards; he wasn't an emotional bot. He felt things but emotions were so unnecessary that he mostly ignored them. That had been the case up until the recording started to play. He watched Breakdown move into view and down the hall carrying Makeshift's shifted body and he felt… bad in a way.

The body was ruined and that was the only way to describe it. Only the most vital areas were left untouched while all others were marred with energon and gashes. It was truly the most damage he had ever seen a bot take, and the fact that Makeshift was still online was inconceivable. Soundwave immediately wondered how long this had been going on and started searching the logged recordings for more evidence. "Don't be fooled, I had already started my repairs by the time he was moved. It was worse," came Knockout's voice distantly as he cataloged.

"You say this is not the first time she has done this?"

"No, my lord. I will admit this was the worst, but I am called in to heal him about once every decacycle or so." Soundwave emphasized Knockout's words by displaying previous recordings. There were quite a few of them; it was almost the same every time. Knockout or Breakdown would carry or support him as he limped toward the bathing room. Each video showed him in one of three states; his own frame, Cliffjumper's, or Tailgate's.

Soundwave was feeling… something and quite strongly; there might have been some anger in there. He was confused as to why the shifter had let this happen to himself over and over. It was stupid, the sign of a weak mech, letting oneself become a toy for others, and yet Megatron had ordered it, had he not? The spy was privy to all the information concerning Makeshift's arrangements with Megatron but had never seen the effects personally. The mech was taking a lot of physical abuse, and probably some mental, and hadn't said a word. He had gone on allowing this because it was his duty? Soundwave wouldn't have allowed this recurring torture even if Megatron had ordered him to and that made him think highly of Makeshift.

The screen went blank as the last video cut off and Soundwave turned toward his lord waiting for the reaction. His face gave away nothing of his own feelings but he hoped Megatron would do something about this. Soundwave cared for no mechs but he did respect his fellow Decepticons when credit was due. What was most important to him was loyalty and Makeshift had gone much farther than most bots would to prove his allegiance.

"I will speak with Airachnid about this. I will not have her damaging him permanently."

"Surely you will not allow this to cont…"

"Silence! You have been insolent enough for one solarcycle. I will do with my soldiers as I please now go tend to your patient, and I expect a full report on the procedures when I am through here. Dismissed."

"Yes, Lord Megatron," and the medic left without another word. To stand up to Megatron on behalf of another was uncharacteristic of the vain sports car. Either he really was worried about his own plating or Makeshift's, apparently repetitive condition, was starting to affect him.

"Soundwave. Summon Airachnid." He immediately sent Megatron's summons along the bandwidth and felt an angry acknowledgment. A cheeky reply came back informing him of her ascent from the lower decks. He sent a data package to his lord with her arrival time and then a request to survey the current situation for himself. He didn't speak often even with Lord Megatron. Contrary to popular belief he did indeed have a functioning vocalizer but found that data was a much more efficient form of communication. It was factual, efficient, and didn't have the ability to be ambiguous.

Megatron watched him curiously probably wondering what the reasoning was behind him inquiring about Makeshift's condition. He said nothing. The warlord nodded once in acknowledgement and he left the command deck.


Steve stood in the lift and descended the three decks so he could arrive on the appropriate floor. He was in front of the only officer's quarters located on this deck before he knew it and surprisingly, his nervousness was almost nonexistent. He had grown accustomed to these engagements and was starting to feel true acceptance from the other. That was until he remembered what he looked like on this occasion. His run in with Knockout earlier was unfortunate because now his plating did indeed look like he had been interfacing with the other mech. He vaguely wondered how the seeker was going to take it and what if any would be the repercussions. Maybe he'll just ignore it. No, most likely he would accuse Steve of being unfaithful. He would have to explain himself quickly or this could turn ugly fast.

He was thinking about all the bad ways this could turn out and yet already typing in the code to the ominous door he had come to look forward to seeing so much these past few decacycles.

As soon as the door slid open his optics were greeted with the sight of dried carnage. Energon covered the floor a few meters in front of him and was splattered along the walls, sofa, and even the ceiling. It was long spilt, probably three solarcycles or more, and the smell had dissipated but for a faint bitter aroma that wafted about. Steve forgot everything he came here for in that moment, battle protocols coming online by instinct alone. Only one coherent thought roamed his processor: Makeshift was hurt, badly. Worse yet it seemed no bot knew, why else would the room still be covered in dried energon?

He moved to the berth room trying to control his panic but it surged when he found it empty. How could somebot have gotten on board and done this without anybot knowing? Steve tried to rationalize this situation to calm his rising dread. It wasn't helping but his combat instincts made him survey the situation instead of blindly rushing through the rooms. A little calmer than before he moved toward the door that should lead to the wash racks. Surprisingly, there was a long hallway in the place of where the bathing room should have been. The hallway made him uncomfortable for some reason but he continued on his way, blaster out and creeping along the walls, until he was at the next door.

Please let him be in here and be okay. He opened the door and did indeed find himself in the company of Makeshift in the other's wash racks. He was sitting in his tub with some obviously healing wounds but he looked to be in okay condition. Steve suddenly felt very foolish. He had barged into an officer's quarters, into his private wash racks, and hadn't announced himself at all. "What are you doing in here?" Makeshift said with a hint of surprise but no malice.

"Uh… It's… it's Friday. You said… you said to come on Friday. I came in and I saw… I saw the energon and… I was worried about you. I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have entered… your wash racks without…" Steve was babbling and finally just shut up. He looked at his blaster and jumped, transforming it away only nanoklicks later.

Makeshift was just staring at him and Steve started to fidget under that steely gaze, white optics much more disconcerting than he had expected. He was seriously about to run out of the room when the shifter spoke up, "Worried?"

"Uh yeah. The main room is covered in… in energon. I thought you might be hurt. Are you hurt?"

It seemed like Makeshift was having trouble understanding him because his face looked so confused. "I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. Look ER-ST3V3, obviously this solarcycle isn't… going to happen. I'll contact you some other time."

That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "Oh… right… okay. I'll just go." He stood there for a moment not actually sure if he should leave. For some reason he didn't really want to. "Makeshift?" The shifter's helm snapped back to look at him as if he was surprised Steve had addressed him by his designation. "I'm sorry about whatever happened but… I'm glad you're okay."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Makeshift faintly recognized the fact that he looked like an idiot just staring at Steve but he had just come out of recharge; his processor was still booting up. When the other broke optic contact he physically shook himself to break the trance. He must have made some kind of noise because Steve looked back at him while still walking forward. At that exact moment a scratched and ruffled Knockout walked in and they crashed into each other, crumbling to the floor in a tangled heap.

He heard a muffled moan from Knockout, "Not again." There was a lot of pushing and shoving until they finally removed themselves from each other and sat upon the floor with their knees bent and arms splayed out behind them. Their fronts were covered in each other's paint, their body positions were exact mirrors of each other, and Knockout's face was angry while Steve's was beyond horrified. Knockout kept looking at himself in shock and then finally up at Steve. His face changed as if he recognized Steve, and then he pointed at the drone with a dramatic flair, "YOU!" he shouted.

Makeshift realized now that Steve was covered in Knockout's paint when he first came into the room. Knockout's words came back to him, 'not again.' This had happened before and most likely earlier that solarcycle. Makeshift couldn't help it, he started to laugh. "What are you doing in here?!" Knockout exclaimed. The shifter just kept laughing, laughing so hard his intakes were starting to struggle in their efforts.

"I… I… I came…" Steve couldn't even get anything out.

"I called for a drone to clean the energon in the other room. Not to barge into an officer's wash racks and stare at him like an idiot. Or to hinder the medic trying to heal said officer. Or to RUIN. MY. PAINT! What are you laughing at?!" Knockout snapped at him. He stopped then and just stared at Makeshift.

"I… I… dnnnn… don't… knnn," he tried to get out through the laughter. Really it isn't that funny, is it?

"Great. He has finally gone insane, I'm now 'facing a drone as far as everybot is concerned, and Megatron is still a total aft." Knockout shook his helm. He looked back at Steve and just said in an annoyed, tired voice, "Get out of here and go do your job."

"I… It's not..."

"NOW!" shouted Knockout, anger resurfacing at the drone's excuses.

"Knock… Knockout it is okay. Steve… can stay."

Probably still confused by his laughing, Knockout was a little slow on the uptake, "Who is Steve?"

He looked so righteous about his paint and angry about not being able to follow the conversation Makeshift couldn't help but spurt again. He gestured at Steve, "He is."

Knockout followed the motion, "Drones don't have designations. They are issued numeric codes."

Steve piped up, "Yeah, but it's easier. My code is ER-ST3V3 so… Steve. Get it because the threes are like…"

"I get it. Thanks." Knockout didn't seem to know what he should think of the whole situation. "He… Okay so you are a mech?"

"Of course I'm a mech. What else would I be?"

"I dunno, a drone maybe? Who knew you guys had genders? Although, you did say you were going to meet… somebot later. So you two are… friends I guess?" and the implication was not lost on Makeshift.

How to explain this. "No, not really. Steve… visits me sometimes."

Knockout took that in and then his face made a giant leap of understanding that Makeshift wasn't entirely happy about. "So Steve knows more about what is going on than I do? You know as the medic I'm probably the one bot who shouldn't be kept in the dark." Knockout was angry, angry at him and Makeshift realized he probably should have informed the medic of the situation. He was being generous in caring for him so thoroughly and the shifter hadn't bothered to even tell him what was going on. The worst of it was that Knockout was one of the bots who were kind of his friends. "I spoke with Lord Megatron about your condition."

"What?! Why would you do that?"

"Because this is affecting me just as much as it is you."

"So you just made Megatron think I'm in disagreement with his orders because you don't want to do 'your job' as you put it?"

"No. I don't want to see my fellow Decepticon in such a state. I don't want to spend all of my free time caring for you when I want to be recharging with my partner. I don't want to keep wasting tons and tons of medical supplies and energon on fixing you." Knockout was fuming. "What? You like being like this?"

"No, but I do not want Megatron thinking I am unhappy with my lot in life. This is what I contribute to the cause because there is nothing else for me to do."

"Look, I think I would consider you a friend if I had to classify you as anything to me Makeshift and I don't want to see you hurt like this anymore. Now, you are going to tell me exactly what's going on while I fix you." His tone held a firm edge of finality, which was very unlike the sports car.

Makeshift thought about it, really thought about it. "Fine." He actually felt good saying that; maybe getting this burden off his chestplate would help somehow.

"Good. Maybe with some more knowledge on my part, we can help persuade Megatron to change his mind about your orders. I'm sure there is something more useful you can be doing."

Makeshift didn't know where to begin but it was all put on hold anyways because he had another visitor. Soundwave stepped into the room almost as if appearing by magic, only the whoosh of the door gave him away. Makeshift instantly closed in upon himself, pulling his already tightly wound field in even tighter. His faceplates lost their expression and his optics dimmed a little. His reaction did not go unnoticed by any of his visitors and Knockout watched both him and Soundwave cautiously. The spy just took in Steve and Knockout, the rest of the wash racks, and then finally Makeshift himself. He stared for an eternity, no outward movements visible, and then abruptly turned and left.

Everybot was quiet for a moment and then Knockout spoke, "It seems change is already apede."


Next chapter we get the full explanation (including how Steve got his own fun times) and Makeshift gets some of his feelings off his chestplate.