Author's Notes: Wow. Two months. I waited two months to update this fic. All I can say is I'm sorry about that. I've had a lot of fics to work on, and juggling all of them can be a bit of a strain at times. I haven't forgotten any of them though, and I will continue on with this fic as well. I still don't know where this story is going, and at this stage of the game I'm willing to consider suggestions for scenarios and plot points. While this chapter isn't very story-driven, I like how the character interactions came out. I think I'll do the entire fic from Knockout's POV since that gives it a nice focused perspective. Anyway, enough of me rambling on. Thank you for reading and supporting this fic. I hope you like this chapter and please feel free to leave a review :)
Chapter 2
The Gift of Pain
The first thing Knockout noticed about the 4 former combiners is that they mostly talked in yelling. Every time they spoke to each other it was by yelling from across the room. Motormaster was especially gifted at figuring out new ways to yell. He would yell heartily at Megatron and his superior officers. He would yell belligerently at his brothers when he talked to them for too long. He yelled threateningly at Vehicons, Eradicons, and Knockout. He would yell curses when discussing the Autobots. It seemed Motormaster had a yell for every occasion.
Most of Breakdown's brothers also had a habit of cursing whenever they spoke about anything, and generally had low vocabularies. It was something Knockout was used to among soldiers, but it was still rather irritating. Knockout considered himself to be a very civilized mech, and therefore had little tolerance for those that not only weren't but didn't even try to be.
While Drag Strip and Wildrider were clearly fierce warriors and unpredictable mechs, Knockout didn't worry too much about them because they seemed content to do their own thing and leave him alone. Dead End, on the other servo, would hang around the medbay and stare at Knockout's patients like some kind of ghoul. He rarely spoke to anyone. He just stared.
They had been aboard the ship for an orn, or two earth weeks, and already Knockout was getting tired of Dead End. He would use Knockout's rotary buffers without permission, he would root around in Knockout's medicine cabinets and gulp down the pain suppressors like they were energon sweets, and he would read aloud from whatever data pad he had at the time; usually trashy novels from across the galaxy. Knockout didn't know what part of the body a toborolex was supposed to be, but it was clear that it wasn't supposed to be seen in the light of day.
"Hey medic?" Dead end called out placidly, and Knockout was actually startled to hear the maroon mech's voice, "Were you the one who trained Breakdown?"
"Um, yes I was," Knockout replied warily; unsure of Dead End's motives for speaking to him now.
"Was he any good? As a medic I mean," Dead End asked awkwardly as he averted his gaze back down to his data pad.
"Yes, he was a wonderful assistant," Knockout replied, "He was also very gifted with a rotary buffer."
"I know," Dead End replied as a small smile creeped over his face plate, "He used to buff me when we were younglings. I could never reach my back and I always wanted to look perfect. I have to get Drag Strip to do it now, but he's not nearly as talented at it as Breakdown. There is an art to proper buffing technique. It's like painting with an eraser."
"Indeed," Knockout agreed as he smirked, "Honestly, after meeting your brothers I'm surprised Breakdown is even related to them."
Dead End sighed and said "I always secretly wished I was adopted. Our family is gutter trash and everyone knows it. Before the war we lived in a low caste city. I forget the name. Our home was a run down shanty and our father died in the tar fields when we were still young. Motormaster raised us, and needless to say he wasn't very good at it. You can tell by how well adjusted we are." Dead End added sardonically, "You know, I never understood why Breakdown wanted to heal others. Death is an escape, a reward for a life well-lived. Why would you want to take that from someone?"
"Because life is a better gift," Knockout replied with absolute certainty, "I would want any medic that found me to do everything in their power to save me, and that's what Breakdown and I do, um, did, for others. It's not a glamorous job but someone has to do it."
"I think Breakdown made the right decision to leave when he did," Dead End admitted sullenly, "We were powerful as Menasor, but it isn't worth it to live with a power hungry gasket brain like Motormaster. The only reason I stay is because I have nowhere else to go, and while I do not fear death I also do not want to die alone."
"I can understand that," Knockout confessed, "I've had a hard time adjusting without Breakdown. He was my best friend. He was someone I could talk to, someone who could buff out my scratches while I studied a new medical procedure, and someone who understood my true feelings about the war. I'll move on of course, but no one can ever take his place."
"Wow...I wish I could die being you," Dead End whispered eerily as he stared at Knockout's optics, "I want to die knowing that kind of mutual unselfish friendship. Listen Knockout, I've been curious for a while now...How did Breakdown die? Did he suffer? Was it gruesome? Was there a wound? Multiple wounds? Was there scarring? Do you know his final words? Did it take long?"
Knockout wasn't comfortable with the voyeuristic way Dead End phrased his many probing questions, but he also knew that as one of Breakdown's brothers this mech had a right to know. Knockout steeled himself and took a deep intake before telling him what happened.
"Breakdown was tasked with executing a traitor to our cause," Knockout said in forced clipped tones to keep himself from getting upset, "He pursued the traitor and cornered her, but she trapped him, and when he was helpless she tore him apart. Dreadwing said he could hear his screams, but he never found the body. Only a pool of energon where Breakdown had been. Of course his murderer confessed, but she escaped and is still out there. We are still looking for her to avenge Breakdown."
"Motormaster will want to know the name of our target," Dead End replied; all business and with no trace of the former morbid fascination left on his face plate.
"She was our former second in command...Airachnid," Knockout felt a bad taste in his mouth just from saying that witch's name.
"Airachnid?" Dead End asked in mild surprise, "Oh, now this is a droll turn of events."
"What do you mean?" Knockout asked; his face carrying a quizzical expression as he noticed the light of recognition in Dead End's optics.
"Airachnid is my ex-girlfriend," Dead End explained in an almost fond tone of voice, "I remember she was a very giving femme. She gave me pain quite frequently. To be fair I appreciated the gesture, but it seemed rather cheap on her part. After all, pain costs her nothing and it's not like I can return it for a refund if I don't enjoy myself. It was fun for a while, but eventually we grew bored of each other. I'm surprised that Breakdown couldn't kill her. She's not exactly strong, though she is good with a web and a fingernail filled with acid. Of course acid tends to get into rather sensitive wires if one isn't careful, and it can really wreck one's finish."
"That's too much information," Knockout replied as he cringed.
"Don't worry, Doctor," Dead End replied with yet another placid smile that suddenly had very chilling overtones, "I'll be sure to tell Motormaster about our target, and I'll finally repay that wretched harpy for all of the gifts she gave me over the vorns. I just hope she doesn't mind if it's an event to die for."
Dead End left the room then, and Knockout was grateful to see him go. He really wasn't a fan of Breakdown's family, and that Dead End guy was the worst. He didn't care how good that mech's paint looked, Knockout was certain Dead End was a crazed painkiller addict. Which, when he thought about it, didn't make sense. Dead End spoke of pain and death as if they should be welcomed, and yet was forcing Knockout to use pain repressing cables on his patients because that dark red maniac couldn't keep his servos out of the pills.
It was late at night on the Nemesis, and Knockout was blissfully enjoying his recharge. He didn't get as much recharge as some of the other mechs on the ship, but unlike other medics like Ratchet he wouldn't purposefully deny himself the opportunity. Whenever he could Knockout would spend as much time on his nice warm berth snoozing away as possible.
Everything was fine in Knockout's little dream world until suddenly a loud crash was heard just outside Knockout's room in the hallways; forcing him to online. Knockout grumbled at being disturbed, but knew it could be an Autobot attack or a scraplet infestation or something, so he forced himself to get up and see what was going on.
When he opened his door and looked to the left he was greeted by the sight of a grey armored truck and a yellow motorcycle laying on the ground in two smoking heaps; both covered in dents from crashing into each other.
"Wildrider you idiot!" The motorcycle yelled at the truck, "Why did you turn toward me!? We were supposed to be havin' a race!"
"Race? Oops, I thought we were playin' a game of chicken..." Wildrider simpered apologetically.
"What the slag is chicken?" Drag Strip exclaimed irritably.
"Ahem!" Knockout revved his vocalizer to get their attention, and both mechs shut up immediately (for once), "Alright, what's going on here?"
"Wildrider was bein' an aft and now we can't transform!" Drag Strip griped.
"I'm not an aft! I'm a chicken!" Wildrider snapped in reply; unaware of the connotations of the word chicken.
Knockout facepalmed and growled under his intakes. He didn't want to repair these guys, he really didn't, but they were both trained warriors and therefore useful to Megatron. If Knockout left them here he would get in trouble with his master, so he had to take them to the medbay.
"Alright, I'll take Drag Strip first since he's lighter weight," Knockout said out loud though he was mostly speaking to himself.
"No way! You can't leave me here alone!" Wildrider protested, "If you don't treat me any the same time as him, I'll tell on you!"
"Tell on-!? What are you, five vorns old?" Knockout snapped before he could stop himself, and then remembered just what kind of mech he was insulting.
As if his fears were coming to life, Wildrider replied with "That's it, cherry aft! I might not be able to transform, but I can still do this!"
Just like that Wildrider's roof-mounted gun turret appeared and he started shooting plasma bursts at Knockout, who practically tap danced out of the way before shutting the door to his room behind him!
"Nice goin', slag pile!" Drag Strip groused, "Now the medic'll never come out!"
"Serves him right for thinkin' you're more important than me!" Wildrider retorted in a huff.
Knockout didn't know what to do. He couldn't leave those two out there for fear of reprisal, but he couldn't leave the room until they calmed down. In that time Megatron could see them out there and assume Knockout was being lazy. If that happened he might be forced to spend a few orns in the brig, or be beaten like Megatron used to beat Starscream! Knockout needed help, and unfortunately he could only think of one mech that could get those two deadly overgrown sparklings under control...
/Um, Motormaster? This is Knockout. Online immediately,/ Knockout comm'ed Motormaster and hoped his voice didn't sound as panicked as he felt, /Motormaster, come in! This is important./
/Huh? Who is this!?/ Motormaster's voice somehow went from sleepy to vengeful in a matter of seconds, and Knockout actually gulped upon hearing it, /Hello? Wildrider, if you're tryin' to play another joke on me you better hope I don't find you before the Autobots do, you fraggin' glitch!/
/Motormaster, this is Knockout, the medic,/ Knockout made sure to add his title in the vain hope it would save him from a beating later, /Two of your brothers have crashed in the hallway, and-/
/I told those glitch-fraggin' idiots to stop racin' in the halls!/ Motormaster yelled (as usual), /When I get my servos on them they'll wish they were never onlined!/
/Um, actually, I need to get them to the medbay,/ Knockout replied nervously, /They can't transform, and I'm not strong enough to carry both of them. I need you to carry Wildrider for me. He keeps shooting at me and he's very heavy./
/Seriously? Oh, alright. Don't move, fancy fenders. I'll be there in a klik,/ Motormaster grumbled, though it sounded like he had calmed down a bit.
When the comm cut off Knockout exhaled in relief. He sat down on the floor with his back leaning against the door, and he didn't even try to move until he heard the shouting match going on between Motormaster and his siblings/subordinates.
"Every time I tell you two glitch-fraggin' heaps to do somethin' you do the opposite!" Motormaster chastised his brothers as Knockout walked out to help him, "I swear one of these orns I'll tear you apart, put you back together, tear you apart again, and make you watch as your limbs are fed to scraplets!"
Knockout flinched in terror at Motormaster's vivid description, but the two downed vehicles didn't even seemed fazed by it.
"Yeah, yeah. Just get us to the medbay, oh glorious leader," Drag Strip growled sarcastically.
"Hey Motormaster, can we have energon goodies after this?" Wildrider asked as if nothing was wrong.
"No!" Motormaster snapped, "You get goodies when you behave for the medic. You tried to shoot him like a fraggin' Autobot! I swear, if it weren't for Autobots, organics, and fliers you two would be the lowest form of life."
Motormaster then picked up a vehicle in each arm and carried them away as if they weighed nothing. Knockout was astounded by how strong Motormaster was considering he couldn't even lift Wildrider; let alone both of them at once! He ran after the semi-former and made a mental note to never provoke the much larger mech.