Electricity flooded into his system, too much, making his circuits burn and his voice glitch into primal beeps and static. It hurt, it hurt!
Focus. Pinpoint the source of the pain. 'S coming from my roof.
Get rid of the source. Despite the trembling of his chassis, he lurched forward, blindly scraping against rough and unyielding bricks. Two thick barbs tore out of his roof. The overbearing electric current died, and in his relief he was barely aware of the residual pain from the punctures in his chassis.
Don't relax.
Revving his engine aggressively, he swerved backwards, waiting for his optical sensors to reboot. He'd have weapons if he transformed— But no, no, not in this narrow space, the mass-shift would crush him.
"Knock Out, where are you?" Arcee demanded.
"Alley," he managed, straining to see his attacker. His optic sensors were online now, but most of them were bunched in his headlights and his taillights—how often did a sports model need to look up?
He needed to now. Cranking his sideview mirrors to an angle that made his pivots ache, he caught sight of a human on the fire escape in time to dodge a shot from its weapon, a deceptively small, square-barreled gun that sent two wires lashing out. The organic didn't show any emotion as the two barbs hit the pavement instead of Knock Out; it just braced itself against the bars of the fire escape and clicked a button that reeled in the wires.
Arcee was still on comm. "What alley, where?"
"I don't know! Near . . . near oranges!"
There were humans lingering in front of the alley, silhouetted against the bright autumn sunlight. As one, they started creeping towards him. Knock Out's spark spun with fear and hatred.
"M.E.C.H., it''s M.E.C.H." They'd once taken down Breakdown. And he was no Breakdown.
Don't give up. When four of the humans slunk forward in formation, Knock Out charged and tried to sideswipe them. He underestimated the dimensions of the alley and his left tail-light shattered as it slammed against the bricks, but one of the humans screamed as he caught it in the midriff.
Arcee was shouting something, but the energon was pounding through Knock Out's processor and he didn't catch it. The other three humans backed up, reaching over their shoulders for weapons. Knock Out flipped out the phaser from the side of his chassis, firing blasts of red plasma at them. A bolt slammed into the one on the right; as the human's eyes rolled back, Knock Out remembered that his weapon was still set to stun from that little escapade where he'd, just for a few hours, kidnapped June Darby and Agent Fowler.
It doesn't matter, still one less to deal with.
Knock Out tried to unwedge himself from the alley and bit back another shout of pain as he rolled back; so that was why the fleshies hadn't been wielding weapons, they'd been busy laying down a flat strip of metal bristling with steel spikes. A tire shredder.
Only his front tires had been caught, but that didn't make things any easier as he lurched backwards with undue pressure on his front rims, his front bumper practically dragging. Arcee and her humans were still babbling over the radio:
"Jack, you have to lead us to Knock Out—"
"I don't know where he is, he and Raf were going to choose the spot to—"
June's voice: "Raf's there?"
"Yes he's with me," Knock Out said. He was trying to keep focus: look forwards, look upwards, look backwards despite a busted tail-light that left him half-blind. It would be okay. They would want to save Raf.
"It's M.E.C.H.," he repeated, so they would understand the urgency and why the human he'd hit was moaning.
He swerved, barely avoiding a taser hit from the fleshie on the fire escape. Via the limited view from his rear view mirror and the sensors in his one good tail-light, he peered anxiously down the alley. A narrow strip of light promised freedom. He backed towards it as his front rims shredded through the remains of his tires and screeched painfully against the concrete.
"Knock Out, we're on our way," Arcee said. "Listen to me, it's not M.E.C.H.—"
"It IS, they're humans, I can see them!" More shadowy silhouettes appeared behind him. He tensed, then gasped in relief and redoubled his backwards wobble. "Fowler's friends are here! Unit E!"
"Knock Out, no!"
But it would be fine, he'd show Arcee, he could play nice with the little toy soldiers when he needed to (and he needed to.) "Hello, fleshies, about time you showed up—"
Three pairs of wires lashed out at once, digging into his trunk, and his chassis rattled and seized. He screamed until the world fell away.
In the distance, a very confused Trenton Li finished his speech.
"Now that was easier than I expected," General Bryce said, rubbing the hood of the battered Aston Martin. The metal burned hot to the touch. "A little disappointing, to be honest."
The car didn't respond, its unlit headlights angled towards the pavement. Bryce kicked one of its front hubcaps. Not a twitch.
Satisfied, Bryce glanced over his men. Two were receiving emergency medical aid, the man the Decepticon had rammed and the one who'd fallen unconscious right onto the tire spikes. Acceptable casualties.
"All right, boys, let's load up our prize before it wakes up. Or before we get any outside interference."
Turning away, he stepped into the sunlight and watched with a satisfied smile as a Pepsi-Cola trailer truck (or so it appeared) inched through traffic, towards the alley. Right on schedule.
He too busy directing it where to park to notice an apple crate scooting closer and closer to the unconscious robot.
"Oranges—I see oranges!" Miko jumped in place, pointing down the street.
"Shhh, Miko, keep it down," Jack hissed. He'd taken off all the technicolor clothes except the orange pants and bright yellow shirt, which still made him way too noticeable, in his opinion.
"And don't go running off alone," June said, anticipating Miko's next instinct. "Keep your head. We don't want more people in trouble."
"All right, all right, sheesh."
"Optimus, anything on your end?" Arcee asked, slowly working her way through the bustle of cheerful humans with Jack beside her.
"Agent Fowler is trying to contact Unit E but they are claiming he does not have the necessary 'security clearance'. Please continue to investigate, we will rendezvous with you as soon as possible."
"Roger that."
The little group paused as they drew even with the orange juice stand, staring down an empty alley.
"Think this is it?" Jack asked.
Miko looked disappointed. "They're not here."
"But they were," Arcee said softly, gazing at the scattering of smashed glass gleaming under her headlight.
Red glass on the pavement, red paint and red blood smeared on the brick walls.
He was sitting in a KO Burger. He'd never been inside one before. Weren't they far too small? But here he was.
"You decided yet?" asked Breakdown. He was holding a menu. Knock Out looked down and realized he had one too.
Does KO Burger have menus? he wondered, before realizing what a silly question that was. Obviously they did, he was holding one.
"Knock Out? Heh, you're spacey today. What're you getting?"
"Nothing. It's all organic drek. Don't you dare clog up your tanks with this garbage, either."
"But I want the Kiddie Kombatant toy," Breakdown grumbled.
Knock Out rolled his optics. "So order it and throw out the food."
"Okay." Breakdown's expression cleared, settling into a wide smile. Knock Out's spark ached to see it and he didn't know why.
Staggering under the weight of a bot-sized kiddie meal, an acne-ridden Jack Darby approached. "Welcome to KO Burger, where every patty's a knock out," he croaked.
"'Bout time." Breakdown took the flimsy cardboard box from him. Limp french fries scattered across the table as he eagerly dug through the contents.
"Aha!" He pulled out a little red plastic car. "Look at that."
Knock Out smiled indulgently. "Very nice."
"You should see what you got in yours, too, Doc."
"Mine?" Knock Out looked down to see a kiddie meal resting between his hands. "Oh, yes."
He sifted through the box with careful claws until he found something that wasn't covered with grease, which was presumably the toy surprise.
He pulled it out and made a sound of disappointment. Dangling from his pinched fingers was a small human wearing a rust-orange vest and oversize sneakers. "I thought I told them no more dolls."
Breakdown gazed at it as he absently rolled his own, better toy across the table on its weak little plastic wheels. "Shake it, sometimes they make noise."
Knock Out made a dubious sound; KO Burger toys were not known for their quality. But he gave it a shake.
"Knock Out, wake up." The human swayed like a pendulum in his grip. "Knock Out, wake up."
"Huh. 'S not bad advice. You should listen to it, Doc."
His gaze jerked up to his partner, fear suddenly squeezed his spark. "Breakdown?"
"Shhh." A huge hand cupped his white porcelain cheek, though Knock Out couldn't feel it. "Next batch'll be all cars, okay?"
He couldn't speak. He nodded.
"Knock Out? Knock Out, are you okay? You need to wake up. We're—"
Raf fell into terrified silence, scrunching further into Knock Out's foot-well as he heard the tramp of heavy boots and the rattle of chains. Raf's heart leapt when Knock out began to move, only to sink when he realized it was because the car was being physically towed. Raf caught a brief glimpse of sunlight as the battered Aston Martin rolled lifelessly down the ramp of the trailer truck, propelled by nothing more than gravity. Knock Out was dragged forward and heavy warehouse doors rolled shut behind him.
It's dark in here. That'll make it harder for them to see me, Raf thought, trying to stay optimistic. "Knock Out, please wake up, please, we're in trouble."
The car's dashboard panel flickered to life, dimly. "Whzzz . . . whz . . . what's new about that?"