"SCRAP! WHY WON'T THIS STUPID THING WORK?"
The agitated mech slammed the still loading data pad on his desk, then punched it.
"KNOCKOUT! WE NEED THAT!"
Another mech - older, with white and red/orange detailing - snapped from the other end of the room.
"Calm down! Do you have any idea how expensive it is to replace anything here?"
"I KNOW!"
Knockout took a moment to vent, to calm himself down before he really made a mess of things.
"I know. Sorry, Ratchet. I'm just..."
Knockout leaned his elbow joints against the desk and lowered his face plate into the open palms of his servos, letting an exasperated sigh escape him. He soon felt a heavy servo rest atop his shoulder plate.
"Other 'Bots still giving you a hard time," Ratchet said, sounding more like he was stating the obvious as opposed to asking a question.
"You don't say," Knockout chuckled, attempting to hide pain behind sarcasm.
Even after the war ended, Knockout knew things wouldn't magically become perfect. He was right in his assumptions, for post-war life was far from the peace and tranquility he hoped for.
Considering his war crimes, but also his last minute switch to the winning team, Knockout underwent a trial of probation, and ping-ponged between the members of Team Prime.
When the False Council, a mysterious group of Decepticons masquerading as Autobots took over their home, associates and supporters of Optimus Prime were exiled, including Knockout. They all scattered, but managed to keep in contact; not too frequently to be tracked down and caught, though. Knockout would help where he could, putting his medical expertise to good use. This gained him a little trust among the Autobots.
Not long after Bumblebee's team defeated Cyclonus, Optimus Prime left in-charge a new, and temporary, Council, which included his most trusted of colleagues: Ratchet, Windblade, Bulkhead, and Jazz.
As a reward for good behavior and active assistance in the field, Knockout was released from probation. He stuck to the field of medicine, and has been working alongside Ratchet ever since.
However, despite all the good he's done since the Great War ended, he's only really ever been accepted by Team Prime, and even then, his relationships within the group are spotty at best.
"Knockout?"
The bright red mech snapped back to reality, having subconsciously sunk into his thoughts and memories of the past.
"Huh?"
"I was asking if you were alright to continue working," Ratchet said, sounding slightly irritated, which was nothing new. Knockout was getting quite used to the older medic's grumpiness.
"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Knockout reassured.
Ratchet stared at the younger mech, unconvinced. Knockout couldn't help twitching under the older mech's gaze.
"Right, but I know how you get before visiting your patient, and if I'm not mistaken, your next scheduled visit is… tomorrow," Ratchet explained, bringing up that week's schedule. It had a note attached to a block representing the next day.
"Err… scrap," Knockout moaned, slamming his helm onto his desk. A ping followed, and the red mech turned his head so he could get a better look.
The data pad he beat out of frustration for failing to load quickly was online and functioning properly.
"Oh, sure, now you decide to work."
Knockout could hear Ratchet stifle a chuckle as he removed his servo from his shoulder plate and walked away.
"Go get some rest, Knockout," Ratchet said without looking up from his own data pad. "Something tells me you're going to need it."
"Yeah," Knockout replied half-heartedly. He pushed himself up and away from his desk, grabbed some personal items to bring back home, and left.
He checked out of the clinic and exited the building, but instead of transforming to drive home, he stayed in bipedal mode and walked. Even if everyone else didn't like having to share the streets with him, Knockout didn't really care. Nowadays, he was just happy to have company, even if said company is cold comfort.
At least on the Nemesis I didn't have to worry about anyone killing me, being the only medic on the ship and all. However, if there was someone else, like there is now…
Knockout shook his helm, knowing that kind of thinking wouldn't lead to anything good. However, he couldn't help admitting that he, in a way, missed the Decepticons. Sure, most of the time they were terrible, but they had their moments, and Knockout was at the very least needed by the Decepticons. He wasn't needed by the Autobots, and it has become undeniably clear that the majority don't want him, either.
His thoughts on the matter as a whole will not stop bothering him. He wants to help, but he doesn't know how or why, and it's not like he can talk about it with anyone. Not that anyone would bother listening to him, anyway, and even if they did, Primus only knows what would happen next.
"OW!"
"HEY! WATCH THE PAINT!"
Metal clanged against metal as a distracted Knockout walked right into another bot, causing both to stumble backwards.
"Maybe you should watch where you're… oh, Knockout, it's you!"
The red mech rubbed his dented chest plate and looked up at who he bumped into. A yellow and black mech. Knockout recognized the bot immediately.
"Bumblebee?"
It was quiet for a minute, then both mechs burst out laughing.
"Sorry about that, Bee. I didn't know it was you," Knockout apologized.
"It's alright, Knockout, but in the future, you really should watch where you're going," Bumblebee replied.
"I'll try to keep that in mind. Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you lived on Earth now?"
"I do, sort of, but I just came-by for a visit. Need to pick up some supplies, say hi to a few old friends. You know, the usual. I'd like to stay longer, but unfortunately I still don't trust leaving my team alone with each other for an extended period of time."
"Afraid they can't handle things without you?"
"More like I'm afraid of them trying to kill each other while I have my back turned. I swear, Knockout, they drive me absolutely insane!"
"Sounds like a handful."
"Ugh! You have no idea!"
Knockout, attempting to keep his laughter in-check, walked over to Bumblebee and patted him on the back plate.
"There, there, Bee," Knockout chimed in a sing-song voice. "You'll be A-O-K. Just let it all out."
Bumblebee did exactly that, and felt much calmer afterwards.
"Thanks, Knockout," the Lieutenant said. He regained his composure, but his smile fell a little, and his optics were alight with concern.
"Knockout, are you okay?"
The medic was taken aback by this. First Ratchet, now Bumblebee.
"I… uh… of course I'm…"
No! I can't lie to Bumblebee!
"Not okay," the medic relented, then proceeded to vent out his frustrations to the Lieutenant as they made their way to Knockout's apartment.