This took longer than usual because I was trying new things. This resulted in so many rewrites of this chapter I thought I might never finish it, so out it had to come.
Therefore I would like to make a shoutout to the lovely ohmygiddyaunt for making this chapter so much more streamlined.
Knock Out followed the crowd as it slowly flowed around the pristine white arches of the temple of Primus. The consecrated carbon had been distributed and a cloud of smoke was now thickening around the worshipers. He smiled and acknowledged some mechs he recognized: mostly past patients, some acquaintances, and some mechs he interacted with out of sheer necessity. The companions of other sorts, though present, did not acknowledge him, and he returned the courtesy.
Speak of the devil; he noticed his former mentor standing a little to the side of the temple square, avoiding the general flow of worshipers. Knock Out ducked his head to blend in with the crowd. Pharma was having an animated discussion with someone Knock Out could not recognize—a tall, purple mech who had a mask obscuring his features. Was that Tarn? Since when had he changed his colors? Knock Out let out a calming vent and made a mental note that 'large and purple' were the parameters he wanted to avoid from now on.
He was about to make a smooth and uneventful exit when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Knock Out wanted to dismiss it, but the tapper was insistent, so he glanced over his shoulder, schooling his features when he saw who it had been.
Smoke-something…right, Smokescreen, a young noble who was not an heir and thus currently attended the Elite Guard academy. He was full of dreams and aspirations, and his willingness to prove himself led him to be the perfect wingmech to break the social ice for Knock Out; more often than not, those were also the qualities which annoyed him in the cadet.
-"Inspiring speech, eh? Someone's enthusiastic," Knock Out quipped with a charming smile.
-"Yeah…" Smokescreen stopped abruptly and shifted from one foot to the other, mulling something over in his mind. Knock Out lifted his optic ridge and smiled roguishly. -"Out with it, cadet." Smokescreen's optics flashed. - "Err, I-I wanted to introduce you to someone, real quick!" He grabbed Knock Out's hand and started pulling him out of the safety of the crowd, towards the two mechs the red grounder had been trying to observe from a safe distance.
Oh no, oh no no. Usually he would mentally steel himself for these meetings, and he was nowhere near ready to face these two on such short notice. But—there they were. Smokescreen stood ramrod straight before the two imposing figures, and then saluted. -"Doctor, Head Inquisitor, it is a pleasure to meet you here." Knock Out scrambled for anything civil and offered a polite bow as a manner of greeting, optics fixed on the floor. He conjectured Smokescreen was too shy to approach the mechs alone, so he needed a wingmech of his own.
The red medic was hesitant to lift his optics to the two officials, but he did not have to look them in their faces to feel mild amusement emanating from them. They probably were intrigued by anyone who dared approach them in such a casual manner. Knock Out deliberately quashed any embarrassment he felt on behalf of the younger bot, and focused fully on controlling the anxiety which was completely his own. Tarn exchanged looks with Pharma, but then his optics fell on the Academy badge that adorned one of Smokescreen's shoulders, and took on a knowing glint.
-"It is, indeed, a pleasure to see a cadet as young as yourself amongst the worshipers, and outside of the obligatory sessions, too." In public, Knock Out noted, the brute was the epitome of civility. -"I found the lecture you gave in the academy most insightful," Smokescreen chirped in response. -"Ah, yes, 'The Natural Order of Classes' is what you are referring to?" Pharma ventured, and Smokescreen confirmed his guess with a quote he remembered. Knock Out groaned inwardly, wishing he could have been anywhere else at the moment.
Luckily for him, the two high-ranking officials radiated impatience, which made Smokescreen finally back off. Knock Out was relieved that he would get away from the situation before the attention moved on to him.
-"Ah, and your friend…a fellow cadet?" Like that, Pharma resumed their interaction.
Knock Out's vents hitched; he could feel their stares searching his chassis for an indicator of some sort. An old badge of "Medics Without Borders" drew their attention. It was embossed on his shoulder plating, so subtle one had to pay good attention to spot it. -"Ah, I see, the gentle spark devoted to helping those not blessed by Primus," Pharma supplied, since Knock Out had failed to reply. Though the movement had initially been envisioned as universal medical help to anyone who could not afford paying for the service, their popularity among lower castes which were known to function without combustion tanks had lead to them being perceived as veterinary physicians.
-"What is your designation, good fellow?" Knock Out had started taking measured breaths, trying desperately to remain calm. That did not go unnoticed. -"Are you alright, little one?" Pharma bent to touch his shoulder. Knock Out wished he could have had the luxury of recoiling, but, instead of inviting even more attention, he finally spoke.
-"I, ah, forgive me, Doctor. I'm just overwhelmed from actually meeting you in person…." He repressed a shudder, lifted his face in Pharma's direction, and smiled brightly, making his cheeks crease so much that he did not actually have to look at him. "...I had never hoped to warrant your attention." 'Wished' might have been a more appropriate statement.
-"Actually, I happen to have a pet that is not fairing too well. Would you mind, terribly, to pass by some day to take a look at it?" Tarn offered, clearly trying to put the little red grounder at ease by appealing to his perceived strengths. Knock Out's mouth was running dry; he nodded meekly, staring at the ground again. Tarn was so close to him—he could not let his voice waver. Instead, he tried reassuring himself with the thought that Ratchet had reconstructed him almost from scratch; there was No Way for them to know his former identity. Thus reassured, he drew a vent and looked the large purple mech straight in the eye -"Of course, it is no trouble at all."
Pharma cleared his throat, thus drawing Tarn's attention away from the lovely ruby optics.
-"If you are interested in the follow-up of the lecture, I believe we may be having a more in-depth session on this subject later this month." He spoke to Smokescreen, but clearly he intended it for everyone involved in the conversation. -"I'm sure you will find it enlightening, and, of course, I would like to extend this invitation to your friend, as well." Smokescreen responded enthusiastically enough for both Knock Out and himself, being both grateful and excited. The red medic just inclined his head again with a muttered -"Thank you," and then both officials were on their way.
The red grounder barely registered being dragged somewhere again until, a glass of kerosene pressed into his hand, he tuned back into the conversation. Smokescreen's optics were glowing with happiness as he chattered about opportunities of a lifetime and 'so close one could touch.' Knock Out's mind was numb; just a half-sparked conversation with those two had left him feeling filthy and broken, and he had believed that he was over feeling that way. Consorting with those mechs was bad news, but Smokescreen was right, it was a rare opportunity. The question was what he would be willing to sacrifice for such an opportunity.
Feeling unwell, Knock Out excused himself and took a detour home.
-"KO, you okay?" Bumblebee joined him halfway down the street, weaving playfully around him. Knock Out chose not to respond, but slowed down to cruise alongside the black and yellow mech. -"That bad?" More silence. -"You can tell me when you are ready."
His return home offered no solace, though. He followed the commotion to the medical ward. The bird that was supposed to be in his quarters darted over his head carrying a piece of bandage like some sort of billowing flag, followed by a disconcerted Arcee.
-"Fetch Colossus, will you? We have an issue."
Thank you for reading! If you feel a tad queasy on behalf of Knock Out, it had been fully intended, if you do not, I probably failed in my attempt.