"The Autobots wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't notice you becoming more and more reckless? Street racing, endangering human lives, destroying private property, and finally—kidnapping. We know all about it. Ultra Magnus sends over copies of all those nice little disciplinary reports for our files."

Knock Out had known that, but somehow it had never hurt until this moment.

He kicked the feeling down and let a well-practiced sneer enter his voice. "Is that going to be your excuse when Commander Shoulder Stacks comes bursting through the door? Handing out citations is merely his hobby. But he'll have something rather more unpleasant in store for you, I think."

"You think wrong. The Autobots made it clear to me that their organization doesn't have room for an enemy combatant who ignores orders and undermines their medic."

"I'm their medic!"

"No, you're their pity-project." Bryce leaned over to stare Knock Out in the windshield. "And their pity ran out when you jeopardized children."

"You're the one jeopardizing our children," Knock Out growled. "You are never getting near the hotspot."

"You don't have any say in that. The Autobots—the real Autobots—have generously offered me a tour."

"Liar," Knock Out spat, but uncertainty danced through his systems. When he'd been demoted, Magnus had said he'd bring Bryce to Cybertron in three days. And that had been—two days ago? (Was it really only two?) They couldn't go through with it, not when Knock Out finally had a solution! Money! Cars! Swindle! "I want to talk to the Autobots."

"Oh, you will . . . eventually. They haven't totally given up on you. They simply feel you need a little . . . retraining. The human touch."

Knock Out felt a new thrill of dread. His voice no longer wanted to remain steady. "You mean torture."

Bryce laughed—not cruelly, but warmly, which was somehow worse. "You Decepticons are really something! Of course not torture, we're talking about the Autobots here. They just want you to get out your aggressions in a healthy way."

"My aggressions?" Knock Out's voice rose. "The team is half comprised of Wreckers! I'm a saint compared to Wheeljack!"

"Wheeljack didn't kidnap three children and destroy an innocent woman's house."

A house? Oh, June Darby's wall. But he was going to fix that, he'd just been in a hurry! He'd only had three days and now he only had one day and, oh frag, Bryce was sauntering towards him, what now?

"Hey, I'm not denying you had a rough day, but we couldn't let you hurt anyone, you know? Even by accident. You're a powerful fella."

He rubbed a sweaty hand over Knock Out's hood in a parody of comfort until Knock Out lurched backwards, out of reach.

Do that again and I'll kill you, he wanted to say, but that wasn't what an Autobot would do, an Autobot would . . what? What would an Autobot do?

His silence seemed to please Bryce. "This doesn't have to be bad for you. Why don't you transform and eat something?" He gestured towards the energon.

Raf had said not to transform. But Knock Out wouldn't have in any case. The warning signs were there: the way Bryce's armed backup shifted their weapons upward ever so slightly, the way the General's lips rolled too eagerly around the word "transform."

Autobots loved humans, all humans, and Knock Out didn't know what they'd do in this situation. But he knew what he was going to do: lie.

"I . . . I can't."

The General frowned. "What?"

"I can't transform," he 'admitted', trying to sound ashamed. And then, for realism's sake, he turned to anger, clunking forward on his abused rims. "Because of YOU! You wrecked my t-cog!"

A scowl grew across Bryce's face, his forehead developing a network of deepening wrinkles. "Your t-cog." Knock Out followed the human's movement with his side mirror as Bryce strolled around his chassis and tapped his side. "Around here?"

The General would have been correct if Knock Out's schematics had been closer to Bumblebee's or Wheeljack's. But his internal layout was a bit convoluted compared to most grounders. He tried to focus on the positive (Bryce did not know where his t-cog was) rather than the negative (Bryce knew what a t-cog was and where it 'should' be.)

"Yes," Knock Out lied. "If Ratchet were here, he could fix it." He could tell Ratchet about the money. He could tell Ratchet about the cars.

"Ratchet's busy comforting some traumatized kids. We can take a look at it. We've collected notes from . . . various sources."

Knock Out fishtailed away as the human reached for him. Breakdown strapped to a table, Breakdown cut open. It wasn't a trauma he'd seen in person. But he'd seen the aftermath . . . His proud, powerful, practically invulnerable partner twitching and whining in his sleep, waking up with panicked shouts, hammer heaving towards invisible enemies.

"No, it's very fragile. One wrong move and you'll break it. My self-repair will fix it eventually," he backtracked.

Bryce had the gall to look amused. "All right. I'll check in on you later. Maybe you'll be feeling better, then."

And with one more unwanted pat to his hood, Bryce was walking away, flanked by his two guards. He opened the door at the end of the warehouse (and Knock Out stared at the outside world longingly, even if it was just a dark rectangle spangled with a few stars).

Knock Out just barely heard Bryce tell a soldier, "Change the energon and keep watching. It'll transform when it gets hungry enough." And then he was gone.

Simmering with anger, Knock Out rammed his way into the cul-de-sac of boxes he'd nestled in before, pretending that the flimsy flap of cardboard he battered away was wearing General Bryce's horrible fleshy face. Only when he was fully hidden from his captors did he allow his axels to sag in despair.

Raf was getting pretty good at sneaking around. He'd taken a cue from one of Miko's favorite video games and taken to hiding under a cardboard box, which gradually shifted its way across the asphalt whenever the soldiers weren't looking. The simple disguise was startlingly effective. Maybe that game was more realistic than he'd thought.

The only downside was the box was too big to fit through the vents that served as his entry into the warehouses. At least the middle warehouse, the one with the cage, was empty when he quietly crawled into it. Apparently it was not important enough to guard while the cage stood empty.

Not that the cage was Raf's main point of interest. After fifteen harrowing minutes of lockpicking (another skill picked up, if poorly, from Miko) he was stepping into the office tucked at the side of the warehouse.

The old-fashioned tower computer beckoned to him, the blank screen of the bulky monitor beside it hinting at secrets yet to be revealed. Raf fidgeted impatiently on the swivel chair as the computer whined to life. The bootup sequence seemed to take forever, but Raf guessed the password on his third try.

Windows 95 loaded in front of him, in all its low-res glory. For a moment Raf just stared, horrified and impressed. This was a relic of a different kind, and far less useful than the Cybertronian variety.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he began assessing the system.

The computer was internet-capable, but currently offline; it seemed the router was disconnected. That didn't matter, though. Raf had a working radio; he just needed a physical location. Latitude / longitude coordinates would be ideal, but even "northwest corner of such-and-such state" would be something for the Autobots to latch onto.

There were only a few files on the hard drive, so at least it would be a quick search. Raf opened the first one and his eyes widened in shock.

"Uh oh. Oh nooo." His fingers stayed poised above the keyboard for a moment, shaking slightly. Then they descended and set a furious tempo, setting the keys a-clatter.

The soldiers knew where he was, of course; they'd watched him drive into his pathetic little fort. Nevertheless, Knock Out tensed every time he heard them prowl by, as though he was a beast hiding in a thicket.

I just have to stay calm. I just have to get through this.

He listened to the latest set of human pedesteps receding.

The Autobots will rescue me soon.

Although it was his own thought, he wasn't sure if it was sincere or an ironic joke. He wasn't sure of a lot of things.

That human was lying. They wouldn't do this to me. I'm part of the team.

But he was bad, wasn't he, at anticipating what would torque off the Autobots? Sending Raf to the wreck of the Nemesis, for example. And if sending one human child into danger warranted a demotion, then maybe doing the same with three human children had earned him a worse punishment. Like—

Like WHAT? Sending their fleshie pals to attack me? Dragging me here to be brainwashed or dissected or—You know what, it doesn't matter because I'm going to escape.

Not that he had any way of doing that.

I WILL escape, and I'll take Raf with me. That PROVES the skinjob was lying, the Autobots would never leave Raf behind.

That indisputable fact seemed to shut up whatever part of his processor insisted on dredging up horrible scenarios where the Autobots, shaking their heads sadly, sent Unit E after him. But he was still left with his original problem: how to escape?

The only plan he could think of was getting Raf to open the big, truck-sized door at the end of the warehouse and making a break for it, picking up Raf on the way out. But how far could he get with two shredded tires?

Not far enough. Not fast enough.

His ruminations were interrupted by a faint shuffling sound and a quiet scrape just outside his bolthole. He froze.

"Knock Out?" a familiar voice whispered.

"Raf," the Aston Martin murmured, untensing. In a moment the boy was ducking into his shelter, one arm clutching some kind of electronic device to his chest.

"No one saw you, did they?"

"No, I was really careful." Raf dusted off his knees, which were blackened with dirt. "Are you doing okay?"

Knock Out didn't know why, but he immediately chirped "Oh yes!" in a stupidly upbeat voice.

"Uhh . . . that's good." Raf looked confused, and Knock Out didn't blame him.

"Of course, it hasn't all been sunshine and oil baths. Bryce came by, trying to goad me into transforming. I didn't, obviously."

"General Bryce?" Raf's face fell. "So they really are from Unit E."

"So it would seem."

"But why would Unit E attack you?"

"I don't know. Do you have any theories?" Knock Out returned the question.

"Well . . . yeah." Raf chewed his lip. "I was snooping around and I found these files full of schematics. Cybertronian schematics."

Knock Out tried to keep his voice calm. "So someone sent them my medical files—"

Raf's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "No, um, I think they gathered the information themselves. Some of it wasn't exactly accurate, even I could tell that. And they had them for everybody."

"Everybody?"

"Everybody on Team Prime. And some Decepticons too. Knock Out, are you sure you're okay?" Raf reached out to pat him.

"Please don't," Knock Out said stiffly, and to Raf's credit the hand dropped. "I'm fine, just . . . Ugh. It's been a day."

"Yeah. Yeah . . ." Raf frowned at the piece of equipment in his hand, twiddling a wire around his finger. "It's been pretty scary."

Knock Out wordlessly opened his door a crack, just enough for Raf to squeeze in.

"What've you got there?" Knock Out asked.

"Oh, um, it's the transmitter. I rebuilt it. We can call the Autobots now."

For a moment Knock Out couldn't believe his audials. Why in Primus' name hadn't Raf led with this information?! This was amazing! They were saved!

"So call them!" he urged, perking up on his wheels. "Or did you already call them? They're coming, right?"

"The thing is, I don't have any address or coordinates. I am gonna call them, so they know we're all right, but—"

"But they won't know where we are."

"Uh huh. I was actually going to ask you if you knew our coordinates?"

"I don't." Knock Out let himself sink again. "Well, frag."

"Um, the other thing I wanted to ask was . . . do you know someone named Sam?"

"Sam?" Knock Out repeated blankly. "No."

"Are you sure? Someone named Sam who lives in Japan?"

Oh great. "NO, I definitely don't. And if I did, I would tell you not to talk to him."

"He said he has a ground bridge."

"He does?" That gave Knock Out pause, but only for a moment. "Yes, given his line of work that makes sense. But so what, so do the Autobots."

"Yeah . . . and I guess either way they'd need coordinates." Raf paused. "Why were you calling him when we were on the road?"

"He's purchasing the vehicles we need for the newsparks." Swindle had also arranged the sale of KO Burger, but Knock Out was sure he could have figured that out on his own if he'd had to. He was great at business. "He's got connections all over Earth."

"But he's from Cybertron, isn't he?"

"What makes you say that?" Play it cool, Knock Out, play it cool.

"Well, he said you were friends from 'way back', plus the ground bridge thing."

"He said we were friends?" Knock Out couldn't help but feel a bit gratified, even if it had probably been part of some sales pitch. "I mean, yes, we do chat on and off. Raf, could you keep Sam under your hat? Maybe don't mention him to the rest of the team? The thing is, Sam is a very private person and—"

"He's a Decepticon, isn't he?"

"Well." Knock Out deflated. "Yes. But not the world-domination kind."

"I don't think the Autobots would be mad about him, then. I think they'd understand wanting to keep in touch with an old friend."

Knock Out wished he shared that confidence, but flaunting connections to his old faction seemed like a very bad idea. "We won't be friends anymore if I bring a gaggle of Autobots down on his doorstep," he pointed out. "He very definitely would not appreciate that."

"I guess that makes sense. Don't worry, Knock Out, I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you." No wonder Bumblebee preferred this one. Raf was a good newspark. "Well! All we need to do now is hatch a daring escape plan, hmm?"

"Yeah." Raf gave a little laugh. And even though they were no closer to solving that problem, Knock Out felt a bit of hope.

Raf wanted to go out searching for documents or signage hinting at where he was, but Knock Out insisted that he call the Autobots first. So despite his embarrassment at his ineptitude, Raf dialed the familiar number.

"Hello? It's Raf—"

"Raf!" Bumblebee sounded both worried and relieved. "Are you all right?"

"Hey Bee." Raf broke into a huge, relieved grin. "I'm fine."

"And Knock Out?"

Raf held the microphone towards Knock Out's steering wheel, which seemed to be the main source of his vocalizations. The Aston Martin coughed, a bit sheepishly. "Hardly pristine, but still functioning."

"Thank Primus!"

"Bumblebee, listen," Knock Out said, rolling forward a little as his voice took on a shade of urgency. "You can't let General Bryce near the hotspot, you just can't. He'll take the newsparks or kill them or who know what! You can't trust him as far as you can throw him—Pit, you can't trust him as far as Raf can throw him—and we don't even need him because—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoooa, slow down, okay?" Bumblebee's voice was gentle. "Geez, Knock Out, he kidnapped you. He's a total slimeball. Of course we're not going to let him on Cybertron."

"Oh! Oh. Well . . . good." Knock Out relaxed a little.

Raf gnawed his lip. "Bee, Unit E is here. Is Agent Fowler—?"

"He's still a good guy. He's been trying to help us, but Bryce outranks him, I guess."

"Speaking of Unit E, their soldiers are crawling all over this place and they have taser guns that can take a mech down," Knock Out broke in.

"Okay, that's good to know. I'll warn everyone."

Knock Out continued, anxiety once again seeping into his voice. "And I can't drive, at least not far, my tires are in shreds—"

"We're going to get a ground bridge as close to you as possible, okay? Don't worry, we'll get you out. Do you have any other injuries?"

"Some. Nothing serious, but I feel like a junker. And my rims hurt like slag."

"Well, Ratchet will be waiting for you."

"Right. Ratchet." Knock Out fell silent.

Raf cleared his throat. "Bee, I'm really sorry but I haven't figured out where we are yet. But I will, I promise. I'll go back out—"

"No!" Bumblebee and Knock Out said at the same time.

Knock Out gave a small huff of embarrassment and let Bumblebee continue uninterrupted:

"Raf, you don't have to do that. June Darby, Jack, and Miko are on it. I don't really understand their plan, but Nurse Darby was really confident, so—"

"So we'll be out of here soon?" Knock Out once more sounded hopeful.

"Yeah . . . yeah, we'll be out of here."

Raf frowned at the unexpected melancholy in his partner's voice. "What's wrong, Bee?"

"You know those times we fought Silas and MECH? They were just some guys. But General Bryce is part of the army, which makes him part of your government, I guess? Anyway, we can't take him out (but Wheeljack wants to anyway) and Ultra Magnus is like, 'What if the whole government takes his side?' I don't think they will, he's so obviously full of slag. But Optimus agrees with Magnus. He thinks the prospect of acquiring alien tech—that's us—might be too tempting."

"But you are going to rescue me, right?" Knock Out was trying hard to sound coy instead of nervous, and failing. "I don't want to complain, but I am stuck here, injured, unable to transform for fear of being turned into a science experiment-"

"Of course we'll rescue you. C'mon Knock Out, we're not going to trade you away like . . . like a broken gasket." Bumblebee sounded surprised, shocked even. "It's just . . . Raf, we might have to abandon the Earth base."

"What?" Raf gasped. It was lonely enough only having Ratchet on Earth, but at least he was there, happy to teach Raf the Cybertronian language and smile at his latest invention, and at least the others visited for movie nights, and at least they sometimes got to go through the space bridge to visit Cybertron— "But, but you can set up another one real close, right?!"

Despite having his voice back, Bumblebee made an unhappy bloop, just like the old days. "Ultra Magnus wants to minimize contact if the planet won't respect Cybertronian rights."

"But one government isn't 'the planet'!"

"Tell it to Magnus," Bumblebee grumbled. "I guess the Autobot Code has a lot to say about it."

"The Autobot Code has a lot to say about everything," Knock Out said. "But I for one will be happy never to set pede on this planet again. I've had quite enough of Earthlings, present company excepted."

"Aw Knock Out, you know not all humans are like that. June Darby and Agent Fowler have been busting their afts too—Fowler tracked General Bryce, June searched every car dealership in New York City and figured out your weird 'Swift' riddle—and by the way, what's this about you owning a burger chain?"

"Well," Knock Out paused, then lifted his side mirrors in a shrug. "You said it, Bee. I own a burger chain. That's all there is to it."

"But how did this topic never come up before?"

"You never asked."

"Bumblebee?" Raf interrupted. "Is anyone else around?"

"Most everyone's napping so they'll be fresh when the action starts, but Optimus and Ultra Magnus are up. They've been keeping guard since . . . you know . . . we're in the middle of a Unit E base. Not that anyone's bothered us so far, but—" Bumblebee took a deep vent, quickly moving on. "Oh yeah, and Ratchet's still out in New York, waiting for June to finish her mission."

Raf didn't understand the particulars of Mrs. Darby's mission but he did have faith in her, faith in his friends, and maybe even a little faith in himself. And given that Knock Out hadn't transformed since their arrival . . .

"Could you put Optimus and Ultra Magnus on the line, please? I think I have a sort of plan."