Enter the Complimentary Follow-up
Chapter Four
Onslaught smiled.
What used to be just another occasion for chaotic death had turned into a system of orderly care. It was everything he'd hoped it would be and more. When all was said and done, seventy percent of the wounded troops were treated and stabilized by this young doctor. Where most units carried a casualty rate of eighty or more depending on the battle, here were eighty-two soldiers ready to fight again as a result of introducing one mech. This was proof medical treatment could be the key to winning the war; an example of the potential he'd been trying to convince others of; a perspective he ultimately hoped Megatron himself would embrace.
It was a risk well worth it. After all, his plans usually did pan out when followed precisely and that's just how this little scheme went; according to plan. Once he discovered Knock Out's speckled past, he knew he had influence over the medic, but, more importantly, he knew the mech couldn't be a complete put-on. Anyone willing to go through such lengths to obtain medical professionalism in this current environment had to of picked up the right skills to make it this far. Thus, sure bet.
Thundercracker gaped.
He couldn't believe this hasty venture had actually worked. Everyone knew Onslaught's views on medical care were quite positive, but they also knew Megatron's were not. So, Thundercracker was less than thrilled when Onslaught sprang this little proposal on him. It was just after hearing Breakdown's account of a young medic in the area. Onslaught believed it was a perfect opportunity. For Thundercracker, it was a nightmare. As if having an audience with the leader of the Decepticons wasn't taxing enough, but then tack on a rushed demonstration to try and persuade said leader's opinion without knowing the full outcome . . .?
It was an endeavor that could have cost both officers their ranks if not their sparks. After all, they didn't even know if they would find the medic, or convince them to offer their services, or if they were even capable of such services, to begin with. Thundercracker agonized over Onslaught's plan even more once they did know more about the dubious medic who he knew would most likely crack under pressure. He thought for sure this would fail. For once, the Air Leader was happy to see he was wrong.
Onslaught gave Thundercracker a small nod; the latter giving a wary smile. Both gave the observation deck above a respectful bow. After a moment, they each received a ping of approval over their communication links.
The gamble paid off.
"I suppose we should go congratulate our newest recruit," Onslaught stated as he moved forward. Thundercracker followed suit, begrudgingly. They made their way over to Knock Out who was busy cleaning up alongside Breakdown; the medic joking around with the bulky warrior. The tanker mused while the seeker sneered.
"Well, you've certainly shown you're worth the trouble, doctor," Thundercracker stated harshly.
The red mech paused in his work and regarded the officer with searching optics until he settled on a smug grin.
"Why, thank you, Air Leader. I've always been quite good at showing others a thing or two," Knock Out said with just the right mix of gratitude and contempt to pass as congenial. Breakdown scarcely stifled a laugh. It was always amusing to see the condescending Air Leader get knocked down a peg, especially by a ground-based alt mode.
Thundercracker grunted as he pushed past the medic to continue on his way. Onslaught addressed the doctor.
"Not bad, Knock Out. Keep this up and you'll find advancement in our ranks sooner than you think."
"Thank you," the medic said with a charming smile—he knew then, that he nailed it.
"I want you to follow me to the main assemblage. Breakdown can finish cleaning up here . . ." Onslaught started before pausing. He saw the developing request in the medic's optics, but couldn't figure on why.
"You want Breakdown to accompany us, don't you?"
Knock Out didn't answer immediately. Honestly, he was surprised Onslaught picked up on that. After all, he just met these individuals and he always fancied himself as having a good hold on his composure. Was he really that easy to read?
"Well, no disrespect, but the big guy did drag me into all this. Might as well finish what you start, am I right?" Knock Out said with wry humor. Onslaught merely nodded and gestured for some soldiers to come over.
"Finish clearing the hanger and bring this equipment back to our new infirmary."
The three fighters stood with expressions of confusion. Onslaught sighed and shook his head.
"Storage bay number three," he stated simply which seemed to clear up the misunderstanding as the soldiers set to work. Knock Out nearly rolled his optics. He knew that area had been a storage closet.
Onslaught moved off back towards the bunker entrance; Knock Out and Breakdown following behind. As the trio moved down corridors, the medic let out a sorted vent.
The last few kliks had been a maelstrom of activity for him. Between hiding from blaster fire in an abandoned fort, being dragged into a military outfit against his will, and having to perform slap-dash surgeries on the whims of commanding officers, he didn't know where to start processing. One moment he was gallivanting Cybertron with only his various skills to protect him and now he was trailing after some Decepticon General with . . . well, only his various skills to protect him . . .
A genuine smile came over his faceplates. Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way; approaching it from the wrong angle. He could change that; he always did.
"General Onslaught, sir?" he said with all the dutifulness of a good soldier. Breakdown took on a skeptical look. This couldn't be the same mech who was complaining no less than a klik ago about where the leadership around here could stick it.
"Yes?" Onslaught stated as he continued to walk. Knock Out clasped his servos behind his back and took up a more unassuming posture.
"I passed quite a few spaces on my way down to the hanger and I believe they would make for more suitable accommodations as a medical wing."
"Agreed," Onslaught said as he came to a stop in the large assembly room. Both Knock Out and Breakdown stopped behind him; each looking puzzled.
"Um, thank you, general, though, I must admit, I thought it was going to take a little more negotiation than that," the medic said candidly as he unclasped his servos and put on a look of suspicion.
"Well, it helps that your presence among us was the original intent," Onslaught said as he turned to face them. Knock Out shifted his weight awkwardly. There seemed to be a thin line between favor and manipulation when it came to the Decepticons. Grant it, he had just tried to leverage his recent success for more space, but to find out it was already in the works? He would need to remember this in future dealings. For now, he would have to settle for what he had.
"Speaking of intentions, what will my role here be?" Knock Out asked matter of fact.
"I want you to develop a subtle, but persuasive means of recruiting future medics to our cause, starting with that little team of surgeons you were with."
Knock Out tried to keep the disbelief out of his expression, but he couldn't stop the widening of his optics. Did they expect him to lure others into this mess? Yes; yes, of course, they did. That's exactly what they did to him, wasn't it?
"Alright. When would you like us to start?" he stated simply, so as not to betray his disdain for the task. Onslaught nodded his approval but didn't miss the plural pronoun.
"As soon as possible. I'll have a squadron escort you to Uraya, was it?" the officer said before turning to address Breakdown, "And since it appears our good doctor is safe, sound, and well on his way, you've finished what you've started. Now, I want you to report to Brawl in the armory. He's informed me there's room for you on the Delta Division."
Breakdown's optics drifted down and caught Knock Out's briefly before he looked back up at Onslaught somberly.
"Yes, sir," he stated, turning to exit. Knock Out cleared his vocalizer quite forcefully.
"Actually, I'd rather retain Breakdown as sort of my assistant; scratch the squadron."
Breakdown stopped and Onslaught jerked his helm down. The demand took them both by surprise.
"Really?" Breakdown asked with prospect in his voice. This sounded like the start of something new.
"Really?" Onslaught asked with ire in his. This sounded like the setup of nothing good.
"Yes, if it's all the same to you, general," Knock Out replied with more uncertainty this time. Maybe he was being too presumptuous again?
"It isn't all the same," Onslaught stated coldly.
Oh, yeah, definitely too presumptuous.
"I apologize . . ." Knock Out tried to backpedal until the giant mech took a step forward to tower over him.
"Let me make your situation perfectly clear to you. This is my unit of which you're a part. I not only have the authority to tell you what to do; I have the power to make you do it. I consider myself reasonably fair. I know you're new and you've proven yourself a valuable asset, but don't you ever forget who's in charge. Do I make myself clear?" Onslaught stated formidably. Knock Out could only eke out a curt nod, but not entirely out of fear. He hadn't been spoken to like this in ages and he hated it. He hated it.
The general stepped back towards Breakdown who did look apprehensive. The blue mech knew the Delta Division wasn't exactly meant for winning battles. They were the first squadron on the battlefield and, typically, the first warriors to die. In other words, even with all these upgrades, even with all the help he's been able to provide, Breakdown was still being treated as expendable by his comrades in arms here.
"Now, find Brawl and have him send me up some fighters to accompany him to . . ."
"Excuse me, chief. I can see strategy's your forte, so, if I'm to go on some covert mission to procure more medical staff for your unit, wouldn't it be more prudent for me to go with a single medical assistant than a convoy of badge-wearing militia?" Knock Out interrupted with a sardonic drawl. Once again, both larger mechs looked to the medic with astonishment.
"What?!" Onslaught demanded as Breakdown could be seen miming the words what are you doing?
Knock Out smirked. As long as he was doing the stirring, he didn't mind the trouble.
"Doesn't exactly scream subtly, now does it?"
"Acknowledged," a gravelly voice said from behind them all. The trio turned in shock to see an enormous, gun-metal grey mech looming over them. Knock Out was more surprised a cybertronian of that size could move so quietly.
"Thank you, um, um . . ." he responded with validation, not realizing who he was speaking to. That all changed once he noticed Breakdown and Onslaught were now bowing. Ah, he knew the downright frightening gladiator build looked familiar, but that left his processor spinning at the speed of light trying to come up with the appropriate title he'd heard the others use.
"Lord Megatron," he added dutifully—if not awkwardly—as he took his own pronounced bow of respect. His features were composed but his spark was rattling. Dealing with Onslaught was one thing, but no one had said anything about the Megatron being here, did they?!
"Why of course, doctor," Megatron stated evenly as the three mechs rose again. Knock Out tried to appear gracious, but there was just something about the way the Decepticon leader said doctor that caused his inner workings to coil up. His resolve to look unfazed was crumbling fast—something that didn't go unnoticed by Breakdown or Onslaught. They knew Megatron would pick up on the medic's nervousness and perceive it as weakness. Every Decepticon knew Megatron didn't tolerate weakness.
It was Breakdown who decided to mediate.
"Lord Megatron, this is Knock Out and he's not just a doctor. I hear he comes with quite the list of qualifications," the warrior said trying to sound nonchalant. Onslaught was impressed by Breakdown's ability to recover, but, angry it was on behalf of the mech who'd just opposed his authority moments ago. Still, it was the general's idea to bring the medic here in the first place, so, Onslaught quickly supplied Megatron with a datapad holding Knock Out's dossier. While viewing the contents of the device, the former gladiator of Kaon periodically glanced down at the smallest mech among them, occasionally making noncommittal sounds.
Knock Out was having a difficult time determining whether the gestures were of curiosity or scrutiny. The medic was also truly concerned about the phrase just a doctor. Was being of the medical persuasion a bad thing here? His processor began to whirl again.
They didn't have a proper infirmary; barely anyone had any first aid experience and he hadn't seen nut nor bolt of a medical professional anywhere. Conversely, there were tons of weapons, everybody seemed to have armed and dangerous etched in their sparks, and there appeared to be vehement warrior types at every turn . . . Ah, scrap, this was bad and it was real.
"You've demonstrated your ability to command medical situations adequately enough, doctor, but if you're to serve as our brand of field medic you'll need a soldier's training as well; something, I believe, you may be lacking the necessary credentials in."
Knock Out stared up at the leader, struggling desperately to keep the combination of horror and confusion off his faceplates. They expected him to run out there and die, didn't they? No, no; that wouldn't make sense, would it? What if it is? Did he even have a choice? Did he even stand a chance?
Breakdown, seeing the mech's distress, took up a stoic position beside the doctor. Knock Out had trusted him. He would finish what he started.
Megatron stared at the two for a moment in silence. It felt like a little eternity to them. Finally, the leader smiled before passing the datapad back to a troubled Onslaught.
"However, your request shows foresight and cunning, traits I admire. Breakdown should be more than able to provide adequate safeguarding until you have what it takes. I welcome you to the Decepticons, Knock Out."
The medic would have said thank you if his vocalizer wasn't locked up. The former gladiator of Kaon glanced at the general.
"Onslaught, a word with you in the hanger once you finish here."
With that, Megatron left as discreetly as he entered. Onslaught wasted no time addressing what he saw as the unlikely, unnecessary partnership.
"Go; both of you. I want that medical team brought here as soon as possible."
"Yes, General Onslaught," Breakdown answered as Knock Out still appeared to be in an awe-stricken stupor, optics glued to the spot Megatron was occupying only moments before.
"Huh? Oh," the medic roused once the blue warrior laid a servo on his shoulder plating, "As you wish, General. Breakdown and I will need to grab a few supplies for the venture, not to mention, clean up a bit; then we'll be on our way . . ."
"Fine, fine! Just get on with it already!" Onslaught growled, still upset that somehow a new recruit and an unwanted transfer were able to challenge his authority with Megatron's blessing. He hadn't foreseen this coming which only caused him more irritation. Knock Out didn't have to be asked twice as he took his leave down the hall in his own huff, Breakdown following promptly. The medic was still angry about Onslaught's leadership style.
The two traveled in silence until they ran into the group of soldiers on their way back from storage bay number three. A few of the fighters quirked an optic ridge at the visibly aggravated doctor and eager combatant as they passed, but only one decided to speak up.
"Good work back there, Hard Knocks," the femme said chipperly. Knock Out paused his stride, astonishment usurping vexation.
"Duststorm!?"
"So, you finally decided to pick a side, hmm? About time," she smiled slyly. Knock Out couldn't help but smile too.
"No, more like going with the winning team, albeit reluctantly," he said sprightly. Duststorm smirked as the other soldiers with her decided to walk onwards. They didn't care much to watch a reunion between two cons they hardly knew. Breakdown, however, remained, though feeling slightly out of place.
"Figures. Looks like you finally got that medical training too. Doctor?" she asked.
"Surgeon," Knock Out stated smugly.
"Ah," she mused with a smile, stepping closer to the pair before inquiring, "who's the custodian there? Primus knows you need one."
"Oh, pardon me. I thought you two may have known each other already. This is Breakdown, my new assistant," Knock Out stated graciously, trying out the new title for his . . . well, rescuer turned detainer turned confederate.
"Hey," Breakdown greeted simply, feeling an odd sense of pride. However, it gave way to confusion. He knew he'd never seen this femme here before, but it appeared she and Knock Out went back. Duststorm sure didn't look like she ever entertained thoughts of undertaking the healing profession. It made him wonder . . .
"Um, how do you two know each other?" he asked, hoping it wasn't too forward. Most took his questioning that way. Knock Out didn't.
"I used to send weapon enhancements down to her in Kalis; mostly for pistols, rifles, and such. You still have that sweet little Dyna-Pelter?"
"Never leave base without it. You still have ties to Swindle and Hotwire?"
"Loosely . . ." Knock Out hesitated, wanting to change the subject as he also still had ties to Autobot suppliers—a fact which may not go over well now, "So, what have you been up to?"
"Besides perfecting my craft," she hummed, tapping a digit to her side-mounted rifle, "I've recently secured a spot on Megatron's primary strike force."
"What?!" Both Knock Out and Breakdown said in unison for entirely different reasons. Breakdown was surprised someone of her caliber was speaking with them. Knock Out was astonished she wanted to work that closely to battle. Duststorm waved a servo knowingly.
"Sniper, Knock Out."
"Ah, makes complete sense now. Thanks for clearing that up. I guess a congratulation is in order, so, congrats," Knock Out drawled. Duststorm rolled her optics.
"How can you stand this guy?" she asked with mirth, glancing up at Breakdown. The warrior shrugged, still thunderstruck an officer working directly with one of the Decepticon's most crucial units was...helping a bunch of lower-level fighters move medical equipment?
"If you don't mind me asking, ma'am . . ."
"Please, just call me Duststorm," she insisted. Breakdown nodded.
"Duststorm, what brought you . . ."
"Wait, wait, wait. I'm sorry," Knock Out interrupted, fanning his arms out dramatically before lifting a digit into the air, "She asks one time to call her by her designation and you oblige, just like that?"
At first, Breakdown gave the medic an unimpressed look, but it soon switched to a grin once he realized who he was talking to.
"Just like that," he said in a casual tone. Knock Out deadpanned. Duststorm snickered.
"I like you, Breakdown. Keep Knocko here humble."
"Ha ha," the medic mocked the sniper. Breakdown smiled again. He hadn't realized how much he missed interactions like this. Nevertheless, it didn't help him with his question.
"I was going to ask why you're down this way, Duststorm. Lord Megatron was headed back towards the hanger."
"Actually, it's because of him," Duststorm stated, pointing to Knock Out before continuing, "It's not often you run into old associates in this line of work."
Knock Out gave Duststorm a scrutinizing look thanks to Breakdown's inquiry. He knew her, sure, but enough to warrant following him this far down the turbofox hole to say hello? No, this was about something else. From what he picked up so far, Decepticons appeared to always have another motive.
He looked back to Breakdown. Well, most of them anyway. So, what would a high-standing officer be doing here talking to a newly recruited medic, especially when it would have been easier to do so at the surface?
"You were sent down here, weren't you?" Knock Out asked pointedly. Duststorm's optics widened before settling back to unassuming.
"You're more perceptive than I remember."
"Yeah, well, I've had a lot of practice over the last solar cycle. What's this about?"
"Honestly, I don't know. But Megatron asked for you to be escorted out the back. I reported I knew you, so, he sent me," Duststorm stated matter of fact. Knock Out and Breakdown shared a confused look before the warrior took point.
"But General Onslaught just assigned us to travel to Uraya with Lord Megatron present. Neither one mentioned anything about which exit to take."
Duststorm's optics appeared to gleam with murderous intent. Knock Out felt his plating rattle when she transformed her right arm into a blaster rifle. It would be the first time, and probably not the last, he looked down the barrel of a weapon at such close range.
"Orders are orders, so, let's get moving, huh?" she said smoothly, motioning towards the corridor with the rifle. As the two mechs reluctantly began walking down the hall leading to an unknown outcome, the medic just couldn't help himself.
"Welcome to the Decepticons, Knock Out."