Haven't posted in a while, so here's something!
This story was inspired by knighty424's SG!TFP Art strip on DA
This takes place in my own little MirrorVerse!AU.
It's still fairly early in the war and Knock Out hasn't seen real combat up close or on his own, he doesn't have any real sense of battle preparedness. He still has that "I'm sure I'll be safe, because I'm use to being safe, so I'll just run in then run out and nothing bad will happen" ignorance. Reality's about to change that.
Warnings: Violence, torture, slash
MV!Optimus Prime/MV!Knock Out
Knock Out ran as fast as he could. He wasn't suppose to be out here but...Breakdown needed help. He dodged behind fallen destroyed structures, trying to remain unseen. He wasn't use to the battlefield, its chaos. He was far more familiar with its aftermath.
He checked the scanner again for directions, shaking the worn down device in an attempt to clear the screen of static, gripping it like a life line. He was on track but he had to hurry, Breakdown's signal was growing weaker. He was injured, again, more. He'd gone into battle injured.
Swearing under his breath he tried to pour on more speed. Breakdown shouldn't have gone into battle to begin with. He should've stayed back at base, should have listened. Maybe...maybe he should have pressed the issue more, but it was hard telling Breakdown what to do. That fierce independence, his sense of duty, that need to protect and defend of his winning out almost every time. And if that meant going out and fighting Autobots when he's in less than an optimal condition, then that's what Breakdown was going to do. Knock Out only wished he had that kind of conviction. He spent most of his time in the med bay or in the science labs, he rarely saw the battlefield.
He slowed when he reached an abandoned construction building, looking at his scanner once more. Breakdown was here, in here, somewhere. Subspacing the tracker, he stepped carefully inside. Discarded steel beams and rods littered the uneven floors, the half finished building seemed to sag on it's foundation. He looked around. Where was he?
"Breakdown?" He stepped further inside, trying to be mindful and not to trip over the debris. "Breakdown? Where are you?"
I know you're in here. Frag…
A faint groan sounding from across the room stopped him in his tracks. Breakdown. Behind the pillar. He swiftly crossed the room, tripping over and scattering steel rods, flinching at his own clumsiness. Rounding the pillar, he came to an abrupt halt, vents catching at the sight. Breakdown lay motionless, on his back, sprawled on top a pile of rubble, bleeding.
"Breakdown!" he gasped, rushing up the pile to kneel shakily at his friend's side. The damage was bad. Ragged gaps and cracks in his armor were leaking energon, broken cables stuck out from his knee joints, the weld repairs he'd done earlier were opened and weeping as well. Even Breakdown's intakes sounded strained. Who knew how intense the damage was on the inside. It was disturbing to see someone he cared so much about in such a state.
Reaching into his subspace, Knock Out withdrew his box of tools, setting it down next to Breakdown as he reached over to find the manual release on his friend's chest plate. His fingers had just located the latch when his wrist was snatched away and held painfully, crushingly tight in one large hand. A low threatening growl welled up from Breakdown's throat, lips pulling into a snarl as his body tensed, optics struggling to flicker on.
The medic stared, a little shaken. Breakdown had never been threatening or rough with him. Not even in the training room. Breakdown had always been fairly gentle, fighting wasn't Knock Out's strong point to begin with, he lacked the grace, the technique. Yet, Breakdown was always quick with a friendly reassuring smile, kind words, and guidance. An ever friendly air always around him.
Not like this. This was ugly. This is what war did.
He leaned close. "Breakdown. Breakdown, it's me, Knock Out. Not the enemy. Knock Out."
Optics finally onlined, staring up. Breakdown suddenly relaxed, venting a sigh in relief, his grip relaxed, turning gentle. "Kn-n-nock-k O-o-u-t?" His vocalizer glitched, static laden.
Knock Out nodded, "Yes, it's me. Don't speak. I'll fix what I can here but I need to get you to med bay. I don't have everything I need." He shuffled through the tools in his med kit. "Have to send out a distress signal, I can't carry you by myself. There's a jamming frequency disabling the comm lines so I'll - "
The shot come from no where. No sound of a gun charging, just a sudden burst of light and a searing pain flaring outward from his shoulder that sent Knock Out careening backwards, toppling over the pile of debris, slamming to the floor on his side.
He curled in on himself, a soundless cry caught in his throat as he gripped his injured shoulder. He'd never been shot before. The pain was horrible, made his intakes stall and his arm feel weak, numb, useless. Like it had lost all function.
The crunch of weight on the pile of building debris brought him back to awareness. The enemy….Autobots….they were near Breakdown.
He surged to his feet, stumbling for a moment, working to get his equilibrium balanced when he looked up at the mech who'd shot him. He went cold.
This...this couldn't be happening.
A trembling started deep inside, fear unlike anything he'd ever felt before tendriled outward. This situation had just gone from bad to as worse as it could possibly get.
Standing on top of the pile of rubble, far too close to the still downed Breakdown, was Optimus Prime.
Knock Out had seen pictures and vids of the Autobot leader but none of that had prepared him for the real life encounter. He hadn't been prepared for the tall, towering frame, the sheer magnitude of him. He seemed to exude power, it permeated the air, curling around him like an aura. And those optics…..intense and resting on him. He felt trapped, like the walls were closing in.
Why…..why had he not brought a gun with him? Stupid….stupid….
The Prime watched him a moment, helm tilting slightly. "You're new…and rather small for a warrior."
"Not -" Knock Out immediately cut himself off. Prime didn't need to know anything about him, least of all that he was a medic. Something Megatron was in short supply of to begin with.
Next to Prime's feet, Breakdown suddenly gasped, "R-r-r-un!". The whine of strained systems tapered off as Breakdown went limp. Knock Out wanted to run, every survival protocol was screaming at him to go, run, escape from this nightmare. But he couldn't. Couldn't leave Breakdown like this. He'd never forgive himself.
Prime looked down at the prone form by his feet, seemingly amused at the desperate plea. Knock Out watched Prime's gaze travel to the medical box of tools beside Breakdown then those optics flicked up to capture him in their intensity once more. He knew. Prime knew.
A small smile curved his mouth. "No, not a warrior. Medic."
Knock Out shook his head in some futile attempt at lying. Prime kicked the box of medical tools, it's contents scattering across the room. Knock Out reeled back a few steps in shock, arms coming up to protect himself from the flying instruments. His tools strewn about him, he looked shakily back up at Prime. His brow was frowned, a snarled almost on his lips as he leaned forward, narrowed optics locking with Knock Out's, angry. "Do not lie to me, medic."
He watched as the anger lingered then dissipated, the brow smoothing, body posture loosening as he straighten. Those optics were suddenly roaming over him, studying him, taking in his form. Prime's mouth pulling into a smile, into something oily and wholly approving.
It made Knock Out feel a little sick.
"What is your name?"
Knock Out shook his head. No, he didn't want Prime to know his name. Didn't want to hear that voice speak it. He expected anger at his refusal but only saw amusement gather behind the Autobot leader's optics, shining back at him.
"Tell me your name."
It wasn't a question or a request, it was a command. And once again Knock Out shook his head.
Prime's smile widened. "Last chance. Tell me your name."
Knock Out stood his ground and shook his head. If Prime came after him it would be to his advantage. He may not be good at combat, he didn't have a gun on him, but he was fast. He was smaller and faster. He could lead Prime away from here, circle back, set up a distress signal and get both Breakdown and himself out of here.
He was ready, body gearing up to run but Prime remained where he was, he didn't advance, no forward movement. Instead the large mech suddenly reached out, ripping a steel rod from the wall's crumbling infrastructure. His optics held Knock Out's for a moment then he turned, plunging the blunt end of the steel rod down, straight through Breakdown's abdomen, pinning him to the pile of rubble he lay on.
Breakdown's hand reflexively gripped the steel rod as he arched up, the scream torn from him. The sound echoing off the blank walls. His other hand gripped uselessly at the building materials he lay on, body twitching in spasms of pain.
Knock Out could only stare in open mouthed horror, his hands having unconsciously come up to grip his helm. Oh frag, oh frag, what had he done? His intakes stalled and he shook visibly as he watched energon well up around the steel rod, pooling, overflowing down Breakdown's waist from the wound. What had he done?
"Was your defiance worth it?"
That smooth, deep, almost conversational tone drew his horrified gaze up to Prime once more. He was calm, relaxed, but not indifferent, and Knock Out realized Prime was enjoying this. How could anyone enjoy this? Enjoy anothers pain?
"Your name." Prime prompted, politely, a smile still gracing his face. Knock Out stared back uncomprehendingly. All this for his name? At his hesitation Prime gripped the steel rod and jerked it toward him. The screeching sound of plating tearing apart could be heard just before Breakdown screamed again.
"Stop, please!" Knock Out pleaded.
"Your name." Prime countered, fingers readjusting their grip on the rod in silent promise.
"Knock Out!" He flung out a hand, as if he could physically stop Prime, "Knock Out. My name is Knock Out."
Prime released the steel rod, smiling at him, pleased, triumphant. "Was that so hard?" Prime stepped slowly down the pile of rubble, optics focused on Knock Out. "Tell me, Knock Out, is Megatron now in the habit of endangering his medics to rescue useless warriors?"
Knock Out backed away as Prime advanced. "He's not useless."
"No?" Prime came to a stop, pausing, turning back to look at the still twitching, bleeding form of Breakdown, then back again to Knock Out. "Looks useless to me. Any warrior who fails to return to his base on his own power is useless. But to send out a useful commodity like a medic to bring that back shows how poorly Megatron manages his army."
"That's not true." Megatron was a brilliant and good leader. Kind, compassionate, and fair. He was everything Prime could never be.
"It is. Your being here shows his carelessness."
"Megatron's not careless. He -"
"He sent out a medic, unarmed, unprotected, to retrieve his downed warrior."
"He didn't send me out here, I -" he stopped himself abruptly but it was too late. He'd said too much. The damage was done. He watched with dread as comprehension dawned in Prime's optics.
"He doesn't know you're out here."
"I…." His ember gave a hard, sick lurch. Oh slag.
"No one does."
Knock Out shook his head, his mouth opened to protest, to lie, but nothing came out. Prime's optics darkened as a predatory grin curled his mouth. He started slowly toward Knock Out, crooking a finger at him, his deep voice resonating in the quiet room while the tone turned sickeningly sweet, "Come here, little medic."
Anyone else ever notice medics seem a rare breed? I'd hazard a guess that either side would want to collect as many as possible. Knock Out's ignorance of battle and the enemy and his impulsiveness to run out and help his dear friend has placed himself in a very nasty position and has placed Breakdown's life in jeopardy. Ignorance is not always bliss. More to come!
Reding and reviewing is always appreciated.