Time, it seemed, had mellowed Knockout's personality. He wasn't the trollish, I-do-what-I-want mech that Bumblebee remembered. True, he'd kept up a steady stream of sarcasm while they unloaded cargo from his ship. He'd already managed to tick off Strongarm by repeatedly calling her "sweetspark," a habit he showed no signs of stopping. So his characteristic snark was still present. And, judging from the buffer Bumblebee had seen among the supplies, the medic was as vain about his paint job as ever. But the underlying rebelliousness that he'd so often exhibited seemed to have extinguished. During his time on Team Prime, Knockout had chafed at any kind of authority; he'd pushed back against every order he was given, relishing the opportunity to irritate others. So far, the Knockout who'd appeared in the junkyard had shown none of that behavior. He'd fulfilled every request Bumblebee had made promptly and without questioning. The few grumbled objections he'd made seemed more for show than anything. Knockout was still caustic and self-absorbed, but he was being far more cooperative than he'd ever been before.
It made Bumblebee suspicious.
Once the sun had set and the rest of the team had dispersed to their nightly routines, Bumblebee headed for the Alcamore. Knockout had decided to set up in a sheltered area underneath the ship's wing and was now busy trying to arrange the team's meager resources into a decent med-bay,.
"This is the only sterilizing solution you have?!" Bumblebee heard the medic exclaim as he approached. "This is hardly strong enough to wash your servos with, much less clean out a wound! Who stocked your supplies?"
"I don't know; the warden is responsible for approving our invention—invalid—inventory!" Fix-it finally managed to sputter out the right word. Just then, he saw Bumblebee. The mini-con gave a hasty salute. "Lieutenant! Can we help you?"
Bumblebee saluted back. "At ease, Fix-it. How goes the organization?"
"Pitifully," Knockout drawled. "You're lucky I brought my equipment with me; I had no idea the Autobots supplied their members so poorly."
"Most of our equipment didn't survive the crash," Fix-it said defensively. He dropped the sulky tone, though, as he looked to Bumblebee. "But we should be much better prepared to handle medical emergencies now, sir."
"You're welcome," Knockout said smugly. Bumblebee ignored the remark.
"Good job, both of you. Uh—actually, Fix-it, I was hoping I could chat with Knockout for a second."
"Certainly." Fix-it chirped, smiling congenially. Bumblebee waited for a moment, but the smaller bot remained where he was.
"…Fix-it," Bumblebee finally elaborated, "Would you please leave for a bit so I can talk to Knockout alone?"
Fix-it blinked, another couple seconds passing before the message finally sunk in. "Oh! Oh, right; sorry. I can go calibrate the scanning systems for a few kliks." The mini-con rolled away. Knockout watched him, shaking his head.
"As soon as I get set up here, I'm giving that bot a thorough exam," the medic declared as soon as Fix-it was out of sight. "I think the crash may have damaged his processor."
Bumblebee responded with an ambiguous grunt. He leaned against the ship's hull, unsure of how to begin.
"Look, Knockout—I'm glad you're here. Really. We're not operating under the best conditions, and having an experienced soldier and medic onboard will help a lot. But if we're going to be a team, we have to be on the level with each other. No secrets."
Knockout paused. He narrowed his optics at Bumblebee. "What's that supposed to mean? You think I'm hiding something?"
"You've never been one to go out of your way for someone else. And now you leave the comfort of Cybertron to help out a mech you barely know on a 'backwater mudball' you have no ties to? Excuse me if I don't believe that story."
Knockout snorted, but Bumblebee held up a hand to silence him. "But why you're here isn't really important—unless you want to lead the escapees in a hostile takeover of Earth, which I doubt. I just don't like hidden agendas. If you have an ulterior motive for coming here, I'd rather get it out in the open so I know what to expect."
Bumblebee looked the medic in the optics soberly. "So… why don't you tell me why you're really here?"
Knockout held Bumblebee's gaze, treating the optic contact like a challenge. A long silence stretched as they stared each other down.
At last, Knockout glanced away. "I don't blame you for being suspicious. A mech with my background, showing up at a mass breakout of Decepticon criminals—you'd have to be an idiot not to question that." The medic drummed his fingers absentmindedly as he spoke, still looking away. "Team Prime did me a big favor when the war ended. You could've let me rust away in a cell, but you didn't. You gave me a chance to redeem myself. I owe the Autobots for that."
Knockout suddenly stopped his finger-drumming and looked up. His earnest expression caught Bumblebee off-guard.
"I know it's hard to believe, but I can be selfless on occasion." Knockout gestured to the wood outside the junkyard. "Optimus was always fond of this primitive planet. The least I can do is make sure a bunch of rogue Decepticons don't tear it apart—or tear you apart."
Bumblebee pondered those words. "So you really just want to help us? That's all?"
"My only goal here is to keep you and your team strong and functional. I swear on the Allspark." Knockout lifted a hand as if taking an oath. Part of Bumblebee was still skeptical, but the greater part of him wanted to believe the medic. After all, wasn't that what Optimus had hoped for—that mechs would change if given a second chance? Knockout had shown vorns ago that he was willing to cooperate with Autobot ideals. Bumblebee could trust him to do so—for now, anyway.
"All right; I'll take you at your word." Bumblebee acquiesced. Then he grinned. "Welcome to the team."
"Pleasure to be here, Herr Kommandant." Knockout said, giving a casual salute. With that settled, Bumblebee left to get some well-earned recharge. Knockout went back to unpacking supplies. He grimaced as he arranged his contributions next to the Alcamore's meager resources.
"Even the Decepticons supplied most of their troops better than this," he muttered to himself. "They're just lucky I came prepared—this team is an accident waiting to happen. Especially that Dinobot…"
Knockout picked up the next storage container and paused. This one was his personal belongings, not medical supplies. He set it down off to the side, a safe distance from the other boxes, and cracked it open to check its contents. Everything had survived the trip, it seemed—the cans of paint and wax were still sealed, his energon staff wasn't damaged, and—nestled amid stacks of buffing cloths—a datapad sat unmoved. Knockout turned the pad over in his hands carefully—no scratches or cracks, thankfully. He moved to put it back but stopped, his hands halting seemingly of their own accord.
Knockout hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one else was around. Then he flicked the datapad on. The screen lit up, revealing an image of the medic. Not just him, though—a much smaller bot, a sparkling, sat on Knockout's shoulders. The sparkling had a red paint job like the medic's and a helm with ridges that resembled a spiky hairdo. He had a wide grin on his face as he clung to Knockout's helm, the older bot smiling at the sparkling's antics. A similar smile came to the real Knockout's face as he gazed at the picture.
"Knockout, are you done talking to Bumblebee now?"
In the blink of an eye, Knockout had switched off the datapad and stuffed it back in the container. He turned to Fix-it, who'd just rolled back into the area. "It looks that way, doesn't it? Come on, let's finish this; I need some recharge."
The mini-con nodded in agreement and went back to work. Knockout joined him, but not before tucking the datapad beneath the buffing cloths, out of sight. The last thing he wanted was someone stumbling on it by accident.
There were some things Bumblebee didn't need to know.
Russell flipped through the TV channels, looking for something interesting to watch before bed. He paused on a cop show.
"How about this one?" he asked the giant robot next to him. Sideswipe merely grunted in response, barely glancing at the screen. Russell frowned. He went back to flipping, but his mind was more on his robot friend than what was on television. Sideswipe had been acting strange since that morning. He was moody and distracted, only speaking when asked a direct question and then being as short as possible. Russell had never seen him like this, and he suspected it had something to do with the new Autobot.
"So," Russell said, trying to sound casual. "Knockout's, like, a robot doctor?"
Sideswipe grunted in a way that Russell interpreted as affirmative.
"That should be helpful. I mean, Fix-it's okay treating small injuries, but it'll be nice to have a real doctor around in case there's an emergency."
"I guess." Sideswipe muttered, still staring off into space. Russell eyed him worriedly. He resumed his channel-surfing as he pondered what else to say.
"You know who Knockout reminds me of?" Russell didn't wait for a response before answering his own question. "Steeljaw."
That piqued Sideswipe's interest. He gave Russell a curious look as the human continued.
"I mean, Knockout looks a lot different, but the shape of his face, the way he talks, even his personality… I dunno. What do you think?"
Sideswipe chuckled softly. "Oh, there's definitely a resemblance."
"You remember when we first ran into Steeljaw?"
"Who could forget? The glitch tried to scrap us. And Strongarm never even said thanks for pulling her tailpipe out of trouble."
"Yeah." Russell paused before transitioning to the question he really wanted to ask. "Is that why you don't like Knockout? Because he reminds you of Steeljaw?"
Sideswipe tensed visibly at the question. Russell noted the reaction carefully.
"What…" the robot asked slowly. "What makes you think I don't like him?"
"Well, you seemed kind of upset when he showed up. And you've been sulky ever since."
"I'm not sulky!" The mech replied indignantly.
Russell just stared at him, eyebrow cocked, as if to say really? Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.
"Wait, when we first saw Steeljaw, you said he reminded of someone—someone you knew." Russell saw Sideswipe tense again at the comment. "Who was it?"
Sideswipe fidgeted uncomfortably, not making eye contact. "I don't want to talk about it," he said finally turning away with an air of finality. Russell was silent for a minute, but he wasn't done yet.
"Sideswipe," he asked softly, "Did you know Knockout? Before now?"
The robot made no response. But Sideswipe's emotions were always pretty easy to read. Russell could see a storm of emotions fighting on his face, reflecting some inner struggle.
"… I've never seen him before in my life." Sideswipe stood up suddenly and transformed into his vehicle mode, revving his engine. "Hey, Russell, why don't we go for a drive? I need to stretch my wheels."
Russell saw through the obvious attempt at changing the subject, but he'd pushed Sideswipe far enough for one night. He turned off the television and climbed into Sideswipe's passenger seat. The robot belted him in snugly and took off, going even faster than he usually did. Like he was running from something.
Or, Russell thought, from someone.