(3 months, 2 day since incident)
The cargo bay of the Nemesis had never been this full, not since the early years of the war on Cybertron. Blue gleamed off the inner panels of the hull and off the warlord's chest in an ominous manner. The same gleam unfortunately clashed with Knock Out's finish, the bright blue against his dark red was awfully gaudy. Only humans with their comic books could find such a combination desirable. But Knock Out's station was not in the cargo bay and the temporary fashion crime was a small price to pay for the richness of their find.
"An energon mine a quarter of this size would have had Prime's Autobots on our tail, leaving us with no choice but destroy half of even that." Between Knock Out and Dreadwing, Megatron stroked his chin reflectively.
Knock Out had heard this same conversation between Megatron and the commander for two days. Megatron would pose the question, Dreadwing would respond with a theory, discussion would follow, investigation, and eventual refuting of the theory by Soundwave. Rinse, Knock Out thought with an inward scoff, and repeat.
"So… we return to the question. Where are the Autobots?"
This time Dreadwing did not answer; there was a rhetorical note in the warlord's tone. Megatron turned to the medic, "Knock Out, you have spent some time among the humans."
He was smiling. It was never good when Megatron smiled like that. Good Primus, the energon's glow gleaming off his teeth made him look positively demonic. Knock Out began to fidget. "Ahh… yes. Here and there, Lord Megatron. Nothing too extravagant."
"Tell me, they are a finicky lot, are they not?"
"Rather! You cut them off in traffic once and soon they're riding your tail," for a moment the medic forgot about the warlord's grin and let loose a smirk of his own. "But that gives me a perfect opportunity to leave them in the dust."
Megatron turned and walked out of the bay, Knock Out and Dreadwing following all the way to the bridge. Along the way, they passed a score of Eradicons training. At Megatron's approach, they broke off to line themselves up at attention, out of the trio's way. As Dreadwing passed by, they all stood a little straighter.
Knock Out allowed himself a quiet scoff. How adorable. He also allowed himself a disapproving scan of the glorified cannon fodder. Knock Out recalled the humiliation he had received due to this Scrap Metal Set. His optic latched onto designation 67-V4, now called Sideways. That scrapper's arm cost him a lot of grief and punishment. A week in the brig and a painful backhand from Dreadwing. As if going without racing for three Earth months was not horrid enough. And all of it for a pathetic foot soldier.
His disdain was not the only spiked emotion. Behind the matching faceplates of the Eradicons was anger. Though their faces stayed straight ahead, their optics curved to watch the medic as he walked.
Once the warlord, their commander, and the medic passed through, Sideways briefly touched his left elbow. The group fell out of line, watching the rims gleam of Knock Out's back. Next to Sideways, an Eradicon named Thrust cocked his head and said quietly, "The medic doesn't go out much into battle, does he?"
Another came up on the other side of Sideways, Dirge. "Not since Starscream was leader."
Sideways cocked his head and spoke in a manner that seemed a little too calm, "So he probably has forgotten how essential a simple elbow joint can be."
"I don't think we can go about 'reminding' him," Dirge said, "He is a superior officer."
"A more subtle reminder, maybe?" Thrust suggested.
Beneath his faceplate, Sideways began to grin in tune to the schemes that were arising. But for a brief moment his optics shifted to another of the officer trio before they disappeared behind the corner. He shook his head.
"The Commander would not approve."
Neither Thrust nor Dirge had an answer, but from the slow taps of the former's digits, Sideways could tell that he had not stopped scheming. In all honesty, Sideways could not stop either.
On the bridge, Megatron stood and waited. From his place a step behind the warlord, Knock Out saw his smile growing.
"Humans. A finicky lot, as Optimus has found out."
"Recommended to take one of the smaller targets captive alive."
Knock Out jumped a little at the recording from behind him. He look back to see Soundwave's blank visor, the communications officer's namesake dancing across the screen.
"Motorcycle, Ambulance, Urbana 500 Custom Muscle Car. As for the All Terrain Vehicle and the Eighteen Wheeler, Designation: Optimus Prime, lethal force is authorized and advised."
"What the frag happened?"
Dreadwing stiffened at the medic's crass outburst. Well, big blue could shove it up his tailpipe; this was the oddest thing Knock Out was hearing. Even the blasted Wreckers oozed sap for these fleshlings. Some hard core scrap must have went down for lethal force to be authorized against the big softie himself.
Megatron chuckled a little bit. Chuckles and smiles from the warlord, this was indeed a terrifying day.
"Knock Out, how has the synthetic energon production faired over the past few months?"
Thanks to being trapped in a lab, which was thanks to the Scrap Metal Set, "Extraordinarily well. my liege. I have enough to begin Cybertronian application."
"Has there been any testing with this substance?" Dreadwing's optics narrowed from the bottom.
"Plenty!" Knock Out drew out the word's length and waved a hand casually in the air. Out of his peripheral he watched the warlord's grin anxiously. To his relief, Megatron did not call out his lie
"I have seen the effects myself, Dreadwing. But I do not wish to compromise the talent you have brought out in your trainees; they will not be given the new energon until the effects are very clear."
The Commander's jaw worked even as he listened to Megatron. Clearly the warrior was not appreciative of contaminating the body of any fellow soldier. Perhaps it was a good thing that Dreadwing was not around when his brother was desecrated, Knock Out thought. It would have made things… awkward.
"Dreadwing, once Knock Out has given the synthetic energon to a squad of jet Eradicons, you will lead them on patrol, searching for the Autobots."
"Yes, my liege."
One squad? Knock Out had once patrolled the surface of the Earth with Breakdown… "Lord Megatron, not to be rude but we were unable to located the Autobots when they were freely communicating with the humans. How do we expect to find them now?"
Good Primus there was that grin again.
"We will be doing some… recruiting."
There was nothing. No world, no life. Just eight graves and a tired soul. He stood alone and his chest began to swell. Pressure from within cracked at the interlocking joints and skeletal structure. Air intake became hard, cycling faster, more shallow. The pain from within dropped him to his knees.
He began to weep. Silent fluid pouring from optics, silent desperate breaths in and out. Silent like the voiceless victim and the voiceless child whom he lost.
The silence broke as his shoulders shook up and down, in and out in stuttering breaths. The small warrior had lost so much, raged so much, endured such pain that now racked his body.
He wept for the old friend who died in his arms, wept for the two warriors who fell to nothing.
The sobs grew to a crescendo as he wept for the town massacred, for the abandoned small one, for the fighting small ones.
Now only a single wail echoed across nothing as his knees struck the dirt. His whole body shook as everything erupted across the small world that he had. He fell forward onto his arms, and screamed out all the pain and pressure from his chest.
Until it too lost life and died.
He stayed there, forearms and knees in the dirt.
There was nothing.
From somewhere out in the nothing came the laughter.
His vision narrowed. The beast.
Slowly he rose from the ground, upright and without tears. There was nothing.
Nothing but wrath.
