Title: once upon a time he wanted to revolt
Fandom: Transformers Prime
Summary: Knock Out had reasons to join the revolution against Cybertron's system. Pastfic.
A/N: This part was actually written before "Crossfire." Felt better about sharing it after watching the episode...
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Transformers Prime.
Part 2
first love (human equivalent: adolescent)
Knock Out had thoroughly gaped at the gladiator flyer, sufficiently distracted from the wall he ended up walking into. He scrambled to pick up the crate of medical supplies he dropped, but he caught the flyer's smile. It was a kind, bemused smile, and instead of feeling humiliated, Knock Out was smitten.
His name was Zident, and he'd been in the arena since Knock Out had been a small sparkling, but...well, Knock Out wasn't a sparkling anymore. He wouldn't even be an apprentice much longer but a fully trained medic, like Diode and the others had gone on before, even getting transferred to other arenas. And now Zident was just more...noticeable, for some reason.
Reasons being that Zident was a feast for the adolescent Cybertronian's eyes and fun and relaxed and he freely shared stories of the other arenas he'd been to. Knock Out had snuck out of his home arena for the races outside, but had never gone far, he couldn't risk being missed by the guards and especially not Pinfist. Later when it was just them, Zident told him how he sneaked out too, to watch theatre in the higher sectors. Zident even promised to take Knock Out to a show someday. In turn the younger Transformer vowed to take him to a race, and boasted he'd win it for him. Zident had just laughed, but Knock Out had not felt the fool, for Zident immediately pulled him close and down to his berth. The gladiator flyer had been a wonderful first.
###
"Knock Out, he strays."
He just shot Harmonix a bright smirk. "That's what makes it exciting. Besides, it's not like I don't either—and I did it before him," Knock Out added, noting the look on his guardian's face. "You've honestly never sneaked out before, Harm? Never even wanted to?"
"Where could I sneak off to in the mines? What time did I have to sneak off when I had you to care for, a sparkling suddenly in my lap—"
Knock Out flinched at the older femme's tone and her words, and the way she slammed the medical shelf shut. Their shift was done, and they were cleaning up.
"He strays, Knock Out," she repeated, exhaustion creeping into her voice, even some melancholy. "And not just geographically."
It was Knock Out's turn to slam the shelf on his side.
Sighing, Harm explained, "It is only Pinfist, not exactly someone he can refuse."
The apprentice relaxed. "I know that." He gave a careless shrug. "It's no harm to Pinfist, and he has so many others to service him."
Harm opened his mouth, but Knock Out cut her off, "And I know Zident has had others before me, how could he not?"
His guardian's optics narrowed. "I'm still on Pinfist. Do not dismiss the one who has yours and Zident's life in the palm of his hand. He is more possesive than you give him credit for, and Zident is frankly on thin ice with him now, they've even quarreled—"
"Have you seen this, or were you told by a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend who heard it from a guard—?"
Knock Out stopped when Harm abruptly transformed and angrily revved her engine before speeding away.
He watched the older femme drive away, a sudden flash of regret twisting his face. But Knock Out shook himself, inwardly scoffing. Maybe he shouldn't have talked to his guardian like that, she was just concerned. But she worried too much, and even if he was still fairly young, he wasn't a sparkling anymore. He could make his own decisions—what decisions he could make within his caste, anyway. He could definitely decide whom he could love, and he would. And if it ended, it would end amiably and on his terms, not because of anyone else and especially not due to caste.
###
Of course, Knock Out had taken to watching Zident fight when he could get away from work for a moment. And of course, Harmonix disapproved of that too, but Knock Out knew she had little room to protest; she watched Sideswipe's bouts whenever she could. She had even took Knock Out as a sparkling when she deemed him old enough. Knock Out still assumed Harm and Sideswipe hadn't sparkbonded yet because of caste. He'd never seen or heard of a medic and gladiator bonding before, and the thought baffled him. Medic and gladiator were in seriously close quarters, it only made sense that they could get closer; why not bond, if they wanted to?
Knock Out was certain he wanted to sparkbond with Zident. Admittedly, he wasn't sure of the flyer's intent. Yet. He would simply have to ask him. Knock Out at the very least knew Zident would give him an honest answer.
But that would have to wait, because right now Knock Out felt he would lose his spark instead of sharing it like he hoped, because Zident was badly losing right before his optics—
The young Cybertronian grabbed his own arm, which trembled, wanting so badly to shift into a buzzsaw. Knock Out had to remind himself of the Rules, chief among them was that medics never entered the arena during a fight. He thought he learned that fairly well after watching dire fights Sideswipe had, forced to wait, helpless...
Zident's opponent ripped off one of his wings, and Knock Out's hand shifted and he moved forward, trying to shove past the crowd.
"Change your hand back, now," Sideswipe ordered as his claw roughly and solidly restrained Knock Out.
The younger Cybertronian cursed, his voice cracking. But he obeyed, his senses returned to him.
Sideswipe kept his grip on Knock Out, but when the apprentice kept watching with an increasingly wretched look on his face, the older gladiator drew back with a sigh.
It was over, the crowds a mix of cheering and moans over won and lost bets, and piling out after the last bout of the day. Knock Out dashed for Zident crumpled on the ground, forgetting if his fraggin' shift was back or what. Fortunately other medics were ahead of him and rushing for the downed flyer. The young apprentice was halfway over the wall and the other medics only a third of the way from Zident when Pinfist stood up and spoke.
"Leave him."
Knock Out froze over the wall, as did the other medics, all staring at Pinfist walking down the steps.
Dazed, the red apprentice watched the other medics walk away from a bleeding Zident, his chest still rising weakly.
Knock Out blinked. One of the Rules that Harmonix had pounded into his head was to save the patient. And this was Zident. Pinfist surely didn't mean...Knock Out was surely mishearing, he was just out of it after watching the flyer he wished to have as his bondmate beaten within an inch of his life...
The apprentice shook himself and continued down the wall, continuing his run for Zident. He crouched by him and gently gripped under his arms, he would have to take Zident to the infirmary ASAP, there he could wash the jet fuel off before soldering the wounds shut without risking firey ignition.
Zident gave him a small groggy smile, and Knock Out returned a strained smile; but the younger Cybertronian knew he'd be fine.
Something grabbed the back of his head and harshly threw him aside. Knock Out rolled in the dirt, coughing and rubbing the back of his skull when he stopped. He couldn't believe his head hadn't been twisted off.
Still coughing and trying to see through the dirt kicked up, Knock Out instinctively switched his hand to a buzzsaw. What the frag—had Zident been attacked again too, had his opponent actually returned for more—?
"I see you're not very attached to that hand," said Pinfist, and Knock Out gaped up at him. His mouth was dry as his processor ran through the Rules again: also chief among them was not to disobey Pinfist. And not to attack Pinfist.
Knock Out sorely wanted to break that last rule. But it was so...ingrained, ever since he was a sparkling, learned to talk and walk and transform. He could no more attack Pinfist than change his own caste.
Still he reluctantly shifted his hand back. He knelt down, bowing his head. "Sir, I only wished to help a patient—"
"I ordered he be left alone."
"But—"
The apprentice gagged as the foot caught him in the throat, the kick tossing him into the arena wall.
Knock Out coughed, hand gripping his throat. He cracked his optics open, spark pounding. Zident was dying, dying, and Pinfist was in his way, claws unsheathing and stretching as he approached. Sideswipe had taught him to fight back, but even he and Harmonix and everyone said you never attacked Pinfist, you protected Pinfist, you obeyed him, you did not attack the lord in charge of your caste, you did not fight the larger system, you did not attack Pinfist...
The larger Cybertronian grabbed the smaller one by his throat, pinning him against the wall. Knock Out felt vibrations through the wall, he heard the sounds of the crowd, interested ones...oh Primus, they were going to watch...
Pinfist noticed them as well. His voice was loud, commanding, "If you have the credit, you may stay, but if not, clear out now or be shown out." Pinfist's guards began to change direction through the crowds, picking up credits or continuing to show people out.
Knock Out started to scramble, clawing at the wall against his back. He stopped when Pinfist squeezed his throat harder, and a strangled whimper was forced out.
Soon Pinfist was consuming more and more of Knock Out's sight, his larger frame starting to close in from what seemed like all sides. At the corners of his sight, the younger Cybertronian saw a familiar face: his guardian, staring at him with horror before looking away. Knock Out was seized by the very sudden desire to apologize profusely to Harmonix. The apprentice saw Sideswipe come to her side, looking particularly grim.
Zident was—Knock Out's eyes widened as Zident weakly raised himself up on one arm, leaning on it. The apprentice knew he shouldn't be moving at all... Zident raised his shaking missile arm, pointing it at Pinfist's back.
Some people shouted a warning, and Pinfist twisted back. Zident fired the missile. Pinfist moved, and Knock Out tried to prepare himself for what his lord clearly intended...
Pinfist held Knock Out in the path of the missile.
It happened very fast. All the apprentice could really comprehend afterward was the ringing in his audio receptors, and pain—particularly the pain in his arm, fluid bleeding and broken, armature bones poking out, even his saw split out of his hand.
He coughed, groaned, tried to open his optics, but fluid was in his optics, dust clouds up again. Knock Out knew he was in shock.
Knock Out heard and felt himself dragged along the dirt. His dental plates clenched as the ground tore at his mangled arm.
"—fragger, this is between you and me."
Knock Out blinked rapidly, trying to get the mech fluid and dust out of his optics, trying to see Zident, that was his voice, very close.
"He interfered all on his own. It's your fault for leading him on like that."
Knock Out howled when Pinfist grabbed his mangled wrist. His optics snapped open, flicking most of the mech fluid out, as he raggedly gasped. He found Zident, and—Pinfist was guiding his buzz saw to Zident's neck.
"No no no no—"
"Close your eyes, KO," murmured Zident softly, his own half-lidded, though more from fluid loss than choice.
"No no no, please Sir, please don't—"
Knock Out struggled madly to break Pinfist's grip on his wrist, on his hand saw, but his damaged body was weak and protesting, and Pinfist's grip so very tight.
"Stop it, Sir, stop, please, I'm begging you, please, I'm sorry, I'll never disobey again, I'm sorry, sorry, please don't Primus stop no no no no—"
He was still begging even when Pinfist finally took his saw to Zident's neck, it was just a nick, just a graze, there was still time—
Knock Out's scream was long and loud and mournful when Pinfist forced the apprentice's saw all the way down with a horrible snap as Zident's head fell off his neck, the spurt of mech fluid hot and burning on Knock Out's white face...
The young Cybertronian didn't know where his mind had gone, for his other hand had come up and started to madly wipe at his face, clean off the mech fluid, claw it off—there was more of it now, he had to claw it all off, he needed both hands—he managed to raise his broken arm no matter how much it protested, take the saw covered in Zident's fluid to his face, he had to clean it all off, take it off—
Knock Out gave one last cry as his senses returned, once his saw became stuck in his cheek. He gingerly pulled it out, and lowered his bloodied hand, his saw hand lowering—Pinfist caught it, held the saw hand in his grasp again.
"Finish what you started," the crime lord softly ordered.
The medic blinked at him, dazed. It already felt like his face would fall off. He distinctly felt every gash he'd left in it, stinging and burning.
"Fine. I'll finish it for you."
Knock Out no longer had the energy to scream, though he felt the pain down every inch of his body all the same.
Small mercy when he finally passed out.
###
Unconsciousness didn't last long, or it didn't feel long.
An electrical surge forced him awake, fiery crackling pain all over.
"Look here," Pinfist ordered, grabbing Knock Out's head, forcing him toward a mirror Harmonix held, barely restrained grief on her face.
Knock Out stared. His face was...he couldn't even find his mouth, where was his mouth...there was barely any white left, the gashes so wide and...the wiring, he could see the wiring, and the pumps, the muscles, the fluid dripping...only his eyes were intact, and in the reflection he could see their own growing horror...
"No one disobeys me. Understand, medic?"
Knock Out shuddered, slumping.
Pinfist jerked him up. "Understand?"
The young Cybertronian finally managed a weak jerk for a nod.
"Good. Congratulations on the promotion, by the way."
And Knock Out passed out, not comprehending Pinfist's last words beyond dimly noting how fragging cryptic they were.
###
Unconsciousness came in small bursts. Knock Out's awareness was fragmented and broken. Pain would wake him up, and there would be Harmonix and another medic restraining him, and he'd wonder why they didn't just give him anesthetic or even exercise the last resort, turn off his pain receptors. But they worked on him while he was wide awake. Wide awake for a little while, eventually the pain would obliterate his consciousness. For a time anyway, later it would wake him back up again. Rinse, lather, repeat. Until there was a time when he was gagged, and his optics covered, and his face in so much pain his temporarily blinded optics rolled into the back of his skull. He eventually blacked out from that too.
###
"Pinfist did not allow any anesthetic," Harmonix told Knock Out after she informed him that the intense medical work that needed to be done was completed.
"...Oh." Harmonix's mouth clenched at her charge's weary scrape of a voice.
"As always, you were right, Harm. I shouldn't have underestimated Pinfist—or talked to you like that." The apprentice sighed. "I'm...I'm sorry."
"It doesn't matter. My only concern is that you're all right. How do you feel?"
"...I can't feel my face."
"It's still raw from the surgery."
She grabbed a mirror, and Knock Out flinched. But she showed him his reflection, his face, and it was...normal, again. Pristine and smooth. Knock Out looked at it in awe.
He then looked around the mirror, to his guardian. "You reconstructed it perfectly!"
"Well, I had to," Harmonix replied, feeling a bit startled and oddly warmed. Knock Out looked so openly enthusiastic, as if he were an innocent sparkling again, something that made Harmonix nostalgic; it was something she missed, deep down...
"This is amazing, this is...wow, how did you do this? You have got to teach me!"
"You're not my apprentice anymore, but I suppose—"
"Wait, what?" Knock Out blinked at his guardian. His eyes narrowed as he tried to remember the last cryptic thing Pinfist said. "Is that what Pinfist meant?"
"We—"
That would be Harm and the other medics.
"—had come to the decision that you were ready. Pinfist is notified of those decisions. He just...broke the good news early."
"Good. Right. Great." Knock Out's voice was stilted. This was not how he'd imagined being declared a fully trained medic would be like. He thought it would be glorious and another freedom gained and something else to boast about, especially to Zident...
"He was dismantled already, wasn't he?" Knock Out's voice was very low. It hurt to even think the name, let alone say it aloud.
Harmonix stared at him a moment, then held her charge close. "Darling, I'm so sorry."
The newly made medic stared straight ahead, at the mirror lying on the tray, his new pristine face galring back.
###
Knock Out had also expected to be transferred to another arena like Diode and her peers had been when they were made medics, once he had gained that rank he'd spent his entire life working toward.
It was Harmonix that was transferred instead. Sideswipe along with her, and some other gladiators and medics.
Knock Out had made a show of being light and unconcerned, teasing his guardian and Sideswipe about their impending departure, how old Cybertronians such as themselves needed the change in scenery. Sideswipe was grim and Harm worrying, but even they seemed to achieve a level of calm. But right before they left Harm embraced Knock Out.
"You are my greatest source of pride. Never forget that." His guardian whispered, "Be safe."
Knock Out laughed, promised he would, and hugged her back.
When they were gone, his mirth fell away and his stature slumped slightly.
He had not told them that Pinfist had commanded his presence tonight.
Walking, Knock Out took his time. He did not want to get to Pinfist's office particularly fast.
When he arrived and was allowed in, Pinfist remained at his station, still going over files and not saying a word.
Knock Out resisted the urge to tap his foot impatiently against the floor. He fragging hated waiting still, Harm had said he was too impulsive.
Since the Incident, Knock Out had figured out how to cool his expression into an impassive mask when in Pinfist's presence, no longer a bitter flat glare.
But if he waited a second more, Knock Out felt he would lose his common sense and break his promise to his guardian and leap at Pinfist with his repaired saw and cut the fragger's head off, a decidedly unsafe action...
"Without me, you wouldn't have that face."
Knock Out blinked when Pinfist finally spoke, and he snarled, "You already took it once—"
"—and I allowed you to have it returned."
Pinfist rose, walking around his station, tapping it. "I remember when you were just a speck of a sparkling, snug in your incubation tube. It was by my actions you're even here in the first place."
Knock Out knew he really shouldn't sneer, but he did all the same. "Someone has an overinflated ego. You can snatch Casteless off the streets and turn them into gladiators all you want, but—"
"I believe you've learned by now the Underground Market is more than that."
Knock Out's eyes narrowed. Pinfist began to circle him, and it took all of the red medic's restraint not to turn around to make sure Pinfist didn't have his back. He was fairly certain it would be worse if he did such a thing.
"It's not as if I just arranged for you to enter my service after the fact—rather, before."
The medic's eyes widened, before he caught himself and made his face impassive. But Pinfist had noticed all the same.
"I made a deal with your progenitor and procreator—I did them a little favor, and in turn they conceived a sparkling to give to me, for my own use, whether medical or..."
Knock Out stilled, fixated on the large hand that held his cheek now, Pinfist bending over him. "It's not an uncommon practice. Rather efficient, controlling product before inception."
The medic's jaw clenched as Pinfist stroked his cheek.
"So you see, that face, that frame, your entire self—mine."
Pinfist lifted Knock Out's chin.
Knock Out dropped his cool mask, glaring at Pinfist. His mouth was dry. "...For your use," Knock Out repeated lowly.
"You understand, don't you, medic?"
"Absolutely."
Pinfist took Knock Out to his berth, and the entire time the young medic pictured Zident—the flyer's head lying on the ground, the flyer's blood hot and searing on his white face.
When Pinfist held Knock Out down by his wrists, the young medic pictured his saw hand in his iron grip, forcing it down through Zident's neck.
Knock Out longed to pop that buzzsaw out and break the Rules and cut off Pinfist's face, before tearing off his head. But the young medic would wait. He didn't like it, but he would do it.
###
Knock Out raced around the same old Medics' Circle before entering his new quarters. Pinfist had given him very nice accomodations. Everyone was already gossiping about what that meant. Knock Out enjoyed putting on airs and boasting about it for those crowds, subverting their expectations. They had figured out his relationship with Zident after the Incident, if it hadn't been clear before. His apparent glorying in being another of Pinfist's consorts threw them for a loop. Some had thought him sadly deranged. That perception amused Knock Out the most.
Knock Out laid on his berth, took up his remote and began to flip through the radio channels. The radio was something Sideswipe and even Harm helped him build when he was a sparkling, and he'd strove to keep it in good shape since. It was another door to the world beyond the Medics' Circle and the arena, where there were races and even the theatre Zident would never see again.
Lately Knock Out had taken to listening to a channel that constantly jumped around, a precautionary tactic. Its content was radical, to say the least, and it was in its best interest to remain under the radar for as long as possible.
"...the caste system will break down under its own flaws, for such a system cannot forever stand in the face of a people's own ambitions, of their own wishes, their hopes and dreams and burning desire..."
Knock Out stopped on the channel he wanted. At Harm's knee he'd listened to her stories of D-16, mostly of his courage and protectiveness in the mine; his defiance in face of the Elite Guard backing the overseers that were finally abandoning the miners; his sacrifice and determination when accepting to enter gladitorial service to secure his and the remaining miners' survival; some of his early gladitorial fights she'd witnessed before being transferred. When he took on the name of one of the Primes, his guardian still stumbled over what to call him. 'Megatronus' had always been overly formal on her tongue, 'D-16' always fond and familiar and worshipful.
To actually hear his voice in a radiocast was something else entirely for the young medic. It breathed new life into those stories of his sparklinghood, added new depth to his guardian's words.
"...It cannot withstand this simple fact: that freedom is the right of all sentient beings. From the Casteless to the Council, we all have sentience, a conscience, and the responsibility that comes with it. To ignore such a self evident fact is an unnatural crime, and one that can no longer be tolerated. The Council and the Crime Lords who are utterly devoted to this corrupt system will soon find that their time is running out. They will realize that which cannot be tamed, that of the will of sentient beings, shall transform and rise up."
And what Megatronus was saying right the frag now appealed to Knock Out more and more as the days crawled by.
A/N: So "Crossfire" made this creepily cyclic and rather encouraged me to stick with this.