Chapter 4

None of the Vehicons who had been in the hall during the melee wanted to go near the medic again. But not everyone had been there.

Sideswing hadn't.

"What do you think you're going to prove?" Shiv demanded, his claws digging into Sideswing's arm plating, physically preventing him from leaving the barracks. "You're going to get yourself killed! Is that what you want? Is that what Radar would have wanted?"

"I don't know, maybe I should go the morgue and ask his corpse," Sideswing growled, jerking his arm away. "But since you're so scared of a bot who can't even move, you can stay here and hide in the corner."

"Maybe you should stay and help with Cantilever!" Shiv's visor flashed as he pointed towards the figure sitting hunched on one of the many berths in the common quarters.

Cantilever lifted his helm from his knees. "I'm okay," he said. "I'm fine."

Shiv and Sideswing both looked at him in concern. Cantilever was not fine. Knock Out's drill had driven straight through his arm. The only reason he had managed to escape without tearing himself up even more was that the medic had retracted the weapon to slash at the Vehicons around him with his claws. But the sharp, twisted drill pulling backwards through Cantilever's casing and circuitry had done the Vehicon no favors. He had a literal hole in his arm, ragged around the edges and constantly weeping energon. Other Vehicons had injuries too—deep scratches and cleaved plating—but Cantilever's was the worst.

Sideswing leaned over to check on his wingmate, putting a servo on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll be careful. And you know what? I'm going to carve Radar's name right into that glitch's over-polished chassis."

"Don't." Cantilever's claws curled into fists. "Sideswing. Just let it go."

"I can't."

"Then I'm coming along." Cantilever shifted, swinging his legs over the side of the berth.

"Cantilever!" Shiv said, pressing his shoulders down as he started to rise. "No, you're hurt!"

"My arm will hurt whether I'm here or there."

"Let him come, Shiv. He wants to watch. It's his right to watch," Sideswing said in a grandiose tone that made Shiv want to punch him. Sideswing's gaze swept around the room, catching the optics of the other Vehicons crowding around their friends or searching through the first aid datapads. "Who's with me? Who's ready to teach that sadistic bastard a lesson?"

If he was expecting a mass of cheers, he was disappointed. Most bots turned away or hunched over their wounds. But a few shuffled forward, muttering darkly and flexing their claws.

Not everyone had been in the hall.


"Oh good, I was beginning to get bored," Knock Out sneered, a hard glint in his optics. If his previous experience had left him worried, he wasn't showing it, except in the scratches covering his chest.

Three of the Vehicons, pinned by that unyielding black and red stare, shrunk back, backed around the corner, and were gone. That left five of them—Sideswing, Cantilever, Switchback, Fast Track, and, against his better judgment, Shiv.

They stood in a huddle. Fast Track and Switchback stared at Knock Out, mesmerized. Sideswing kept glaring after the three Vehicons who had abandoned them, while Cantilever leaned heavily on his shoulder. Droplets of energon seeped from his injured arm and his gaze was fixed on the floor. But he looked up when Shiv nudged him. Not daring to speak, Shiv jerked his helm in the direction of the barracks, but Cantilever shook his head. He was staying.

Knock Out was studying them now, looking them over from helm to pede like they were lab specimens. His optics fixed on the circular wound punched through Cantilever's arm and a smile pulled Knock Out's lip upward, revealing a flash of denta.

Sideswing growled deep in his vocalizer and would have charged forward, but Shiv and Cantilever held him back. Cantilever kept raising one claw up his faceplate in a gesture for silence. Silence was anonymity, and anonymity was safety.

It was Fast Track who first separated from the perimeter of the group, edging towards the medic, stopping when Knock Out's helm swung towards him. Switchback inched forward too, following the path forged by the other Vehicon grounder, but it was Fast Track who had caught Knock Out's eye, standing out in the open in front of him. Shiv unconsciously clutched Sideswing's arm even harder. It was just like before, just like with Cantilever, except the hallway was empty and Knock Out wasn't trembling.

"Is there something I can help you with, genericon? Tell me where it hurts."

Fast Track's back stiffened at the insult. His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as he closed the distance, frame shaking slightly. He lashed out, his claws aiming for the red finish above Knock Out's headlights.

It all happened so fast. The drill erupted from Knock Out's wrist, a weapon nearly doubling the length of his lower arm, and Fast Track simultaneously twisted around and leapt back as its whine filled his audials. Suddenly sharp claws were driving into his back, digging through his plating, into his circuitry, and he screamed and twisted and jerked, but that only drew them farther down his back, and Shiv couldn't do anything but cling to Sideswing and stare in horror.

Switchback charged in, grabbing Fast Track's arm and trying to pull him away and trying to avoid the drill, and then abruptly the drill folded in and five claws, long, elegant, sharp, were swiveling in a semi-circle, gouging deep into Switchback's shoulder. Metal shrieked as Switchback tore away, the claws scything through his purple gloss, leaving ugly lacerations lined with broken metal, but all that mattered was that he'd pulled Fast Track back, back to safety, leaving a spattering trail of energon in their wake.

Shiv didn't dare look at the medic as he chuckled in that deep voice of his, just focused on applying pressure to the deep claw marks on Fast Track's back. He'd stopped screaming but he seemed to be in shock, shivering as he leaned against the wall.

Sideswing helped him sit down without collapsing and stalked forward to face Knock Out, shaking off Shiv, who was clutching his arm, and Cantilever, who was frantically shaking his head. Knock Out's smirk was replaced with a wary expression. But he still wasn't trembling.

Come back, you fool, Shiv thought, but a part of him fiercely approved, hated Knock Out and wanted to see him brought down, brought low. The wall hadn't done it, the mob hadn't done it, the scratches on his cherry red chassis hadn't done it, but a part of Shiv believed that Sideswing could.

Sideswing kept his optic band fixed on Knock Out's face as he stepped forward. Ominous little clicking noises emanated from the doctor's left arm, the threat of a buzzsaw about to swing out. But Sideswing carefully kept dead center of the medic's immobile arms and kept coming. Knock Out must have realized he wasn't going to panic and break like Fast Track; his eyes narrowed and he hissed with anger as Sideswing reached towards him.

Radar's name, in Cybertronian characters, was short. The thin sound of metal scraping metal filled the silence as the Vehicon carved the inscription on a patch of relatively unmarred paint along the swell of Knock Out's shoulder. It must have been agonizing, but the medic didn't scream or speak, just dropped his head and glowered off to the side as his hands convulsively folded and unfolded.

He did it. I don't believe it. He actually did it! Shiv felt a vicious elation. Now come back, Sideswing, carefully. Sideswing, what are you doing? Come back.

Sideswing was standing there, looking down at the medic's lowered head, the only place where his finish was still smooth, shiny, and undefiled. His claws spread, sharpened fingers gleaming and hooked as they slashed towards Knock Out's glossy helm.

A blur of movement, red and white, a quick quiet crunch, and Sideswing didn't even have time to scream as the stiletto tip of Knock Out's shark-fin helm punctured his wrist, driving straight through. They stared at each other as blue streams of energon crawled down the fluted contours of Knock Out's helm, dripping off his noseguard and running down the back of his neck.

Very carefully, Sideswing pulled his wrist free, clutching it to staunch the flow.

"That's a nasty wound. You're lucky it missed your main fuel line. Lucky, lucky you."

Sideswing backed away till he hit the wall.

"You really ought to have someone look at it, though. A medic. Without proper treatment, it will scar."

Knock Out's gaze ran over the group again, his optics lingering on each of their injuries. Sideswing's wrist. Cantilever's arm. Fast Track's back. Switchback's shoulder. He kept smiling when he got to Shiv, but his eyes became even more intense. The wall creaked, as though he was straining forward.

"And what about you, Vehicon? Aren't you going to step up and take your turn?"

Shiv wanted to look away. He wanted to.

"What's your name? Tell me your name."

Oh Primus. He had to get out of here. He had to . . . he just . . .

He started backing away, pressed against the wall. Knock Out, helpless, trapped, covered with energon, and smiling that smile followed him with his eyes.

"Your name, Vehicon. Surely you aren't disobeying a superior officer. Your name. Tell me your name. Tell me your—"

Shiv twisted away from those eyes and ran for all he was worth.