Well, it's been some time. ^^; Just trying to get some more writing out there as I draw closer to finishing my outline of Reach Out. I hate posting bum chapters, and if I don't take my time with it, then I'll end up posting one that I'm not happy with. Frustration with my writing is not something that I look forward to dealing with.

Characters: Breakdown-Silas, Knock Out

Warnings: Death, excessive bleeding, torture

Rating: T/M

Bit by bit his cold body was reanimated; the whirr of machinery - typically an indicator of biological life continuing- filled the hangar. The golden, then ruby, gaze lighting the floor with individually colored pools of light at the massive blue and silver peds. The bio-mech's new body mass and weight inhibited the instinctual movement to stretch, his muscle memory not equipped to handle such a radical change. As he finally reached consciousness, he realized why his body resisted his commands. While his every thought was transferred through the host body that he was in, maneuvering it was a different story. But...the word "host" made him sound as if he was a parasite, which he wasn't. The only logical conclusion to M.E.C.H's experiments was this final form, the perfect meld of man and machine. He wasn't a parasite; he was an enhancement. He was a titan, a god.

With every word that fell from his soldier's lips, every assurance that this new form was his and his alone; his dark satisfaction grew, spreading across his scarred face in a sick imitation of a smile . They had unknowingly fulfilled their ultimate use to him, the only real use his men had. Leading them on with years of training, promises of being part of the future, structure in an amorphous society. Filthy lies that had pleased them, made them feel important. He held no regrets as he destroyed them.

But in this new body, there were certainly drawbacks. For one, maneuvering the initial transformation sequence was rather difficult, and awkward. Contorting his body in ways that he would never have tried otherwise, his joints coming apart only to reconvene at a different point in his form, collapsing into a different form altogether.

Another was the inability to find suitable fuel. He knew, thanks to that mouthy flier, that Energon was what was needed to keep beings like them –like him- alive and functioning. An ironic twist of events, given that the last time any of his men had come in contact with the blue crystal, they had died soon after. Maleficent to humans, life giving to Cybertronians. The fact that he needed this new substance further cemented his belief that he was one of them now.

But the most unnerving thing was the feeling that he wasn't alone in this new life. A presence kept making itself known, with images and an overwhelming resentment towards Silas and what he stood for. Whispers in his conscious washed across his mind, haunting him as he attempted to become one with the machine. Random bursts of muscle memory helped him to understand how his new body worked. Utilizing his weaponry, "seeing" in alt-mode, and how to use the comm. system became second nature the longer the presence remained. Yet the ever burning hatred didn't delude Silas into thinking that the presence was a benign one. Even going so far as to attempt to trigger a system's shut down without Silas's consent. Breakdown's corpse now functioned like a life support system, and if it shut down without Silas initiating the sequence, he would die. No no, he was not fooled by the helpful information kept in the memories. He knew that from that moment onward he was at war with the presence.

Attracting the attention of the Decepticons was far easier than he would have thought, but he paid the ease of the situation no mind. The satellite that he carried would garner him a place with the Decepticons, one of them now. With his new people, his new form, and his new intel, Megatron would have to accept him into his ranks. His plan was working perfectly, seamlessly save for the appearance of the red racer. For some reason, whenever he was around the medic, the presence grew stronger, almost violently so. Memories bubbled to the surface, thick with desire and lust, the obvious past connection between Breakdown and the mech clear as day. The presence, whom Silas was now sure was Breakdown, kept the more intimate memories locked away, safe from his prying eyes. Yet he could do nothing about the leaked emotions.

They were sickening.

Taking orders from their leader was a overturned Silas' preconceived notions that he would be Megatron's equal. He was used to being in charge, to be the one giving orders; not being somebody's lackey. But he wasn't stupid enough to go and get himself killed for not following orders. A droll stake out at a young hacker's house (a waste of his talents as far as Silas was concerned) until the appearance of an Autobot. Large, green, very protective of that young girl who never listened to directions-

-Bulkhead…coupled with brief memories of fight sequences in the past shot forward, distracting Silas from his surveillance goal. Growling, the M.E.C.H. leader tried to shove the memories away, they had no purpose here, until the uncanny transformation occurred; not caused by his will. In fact, the majority of the resulting fight wasn't his choice. Silas was just along for the ride, confused at the way his body moved. Not in his fighting style at all. Silas preferred quick, low movements, coupled with a few strategic hits here and there. Breakdown preferred in-your-face, large, powerful movements, towering over his opponent as much as he could. It seemed that Bulkhead was used to this type of fighting style, but the bio-mech was able to get the upperhand on him a few times.

The summoning over the comm. link was the only thing that stopped the presence from taking over the fight completely. Unnerved at the slip in control, Silas turned back to the ground bridge, entering on the other side into the Nemesis bridge. He expected a commemoration, or at least a standard debriefing; not orders to be dissected! He struggled against the drones, knowing that he was superior in strength to them. Yet he couldn't move. Growling inwardly, Silas tried to move, but Breakdown prevented him from doing so, locking his joints in place. If anything, the drones were able to drag him easier once Breakdown took over.

When they entered the med bay, the drones slammed him down on the examination table. Locking him in place, the purple, faceless mechs stood guard while the medic-Knock Out- slowly sauntered around the berth. When he reached the bio-mech's head, he snapped his fingers, sending the drone's scattering away. Smirking down to him, Knock Out's optics held a unique mix of disappointment and insanity.

"Breakdown would be tickled," he repeated his words from the bridge, the buzzsaw starting up. Frantic, Silas broke through the bonds, trying to transform out his hammer. The tell tale sound of a transformation sequence began halfway, before stopping, the armor jamming mid way before reversing, leaving Silas back with his servo. He tried again, only to receive the same results.

"What is wrong with this thing?" he hissed, frustrated that the body refused to cooperate to his demands. Taking on a defensive stance, he tried in vain one last time to transform out his hammer. Suddenly, an electric current snapped through his body, his vision fading white . In his momentary distraction, Silas had allowed himself to be vulnerable to attack.

Falling to his knees with a groan, Silas blearily looked around, searching for the medic. Knock Out teasingly stayed just outside of his field of vision, sauntering with his electric prod in servo, clicking it on the ground like a staff. The hum of the blue jolts crackled in the air, making the bio-mech tense.

"Now, now, Silas don't fight it. The end is near," the medic crooned, electrocuting the former M.E.C.H. leader again.

He bent forward, shrieking as the currents traveled across his neural system, linked to the body he was in. Pushing against its-his- previous bonds, the late bruiser fought for control, managing to gain a little ground. The next words that "Breakdown" spoke weren't Silas at all, the weakened human taking time to recuperate within the chest compartment.

"…K-kno..ckkk" he stuttered, static interrupting his sentence. But the voice was unmistakable.

Shocked, Knock Out froze, his optics widening, back struts straightening as his shoulders rolled back. Slightly twisting his torso to the side, he whispered, "…Breakdown?" After so long, so many setbacks, and suddenly Breakdown was back?! Impossible!

Nodding his head, the cyborg looked at Knock Out, his gaze back to normal. The red optic add-on from M.E.C.H. shut off, just his one golden optic looking at the CMO. Until Silas regained control, the piercing red optic onlining again, a bitter sneer on the orange faceplates.

"No, not Brea-" Silas began before Breakdown returned, fighting against him. He stood, drunkenly stumbling as he fought for control again.

"No, no not again!" the human cried as the specter attacked with memories and thoughts.

Love do you really have to leave? –nods- I have to, I'll be back, I promise it won't be like last time

"Love? Weak emotion, has no place her-"

I promise…I promise…I PROMISED HIM!

Knock Out watched the exchange, confused and not daring to hope. He knew that Breakdown was gone, he knew for a fact .There was no spark energy around him, his assistant was gone beyond this world. And yet, his voice, their last conversation together, was playing again, reminding him painfully of his own loss. The nights separated, the vulnerability on the battlefield, the isolation from the rest of the ranks. Knock Out prided himself on being above everyone else around him, but even he needed friends at some point. Breakdown had filled all those gaps, had taken away his perpetual loneliness; but in taking that away, he created a dependence for him. When he left...it hurt more than before. After all this time, there was no way that Breakdown could be back in front of him. And yet…he was.

Silas struggled, fighting mentally for control, but he had lost the battle the minute Knock Out had electrocuted him. The shock from the prod had kick-started the mech, getting the dregs of conscious left of Breakdown back online. Silas lost, again.

Breakdown turned to face Knock Out, the red optic going offline again. "Knockk…h-hellppp…." He mentally fought against the intruder, against Silas. He opened his chestplates, screaming in tandem with Silas, Breakdown's nervous system unsure of who to respond to. He only managed to keep his chestplates open for a second, but that was enough.

Knock Out seized the opportunity, striking forward and grabbing Silas, yanking his chest forward, bending Breakdown's back strut at the same time. It was sickening that whatever he did to Silas would reflect on Breakdown , but the medic had no choice. Pulling Silas's exposed body forward, the creature that his mate had become followed, dragging his peds back to the berth.

Pushing the struggling, screaming mech down on the table, the Aston Martin laced his fingers over Silas, wedging his elbows against Breakdown's chest plates, keeping them open. Silas was still hooked up to Breakdown's nervous systems, meaning that if the human moved, Breakdown did as well. The bruiser's connection with his own nervous system was shaky and intermittent. If he just ripped Silas out, he could lose Breakdown forever.

But what if... "Breakdown…I'm sorry, Love, but…I have an idea…but if this doesn't work…know that I love you…" the medic murmured, his slim servos curling in like claws in frustration. He would have loved to draw out the torture, to make him scream and beg for mercy. But time was running short.

Grabbing a syringe full of stasis-inducing serum, Knock Out injected it into Breakdown's coolant lines. Energon was poisonous to humans, Knock Out knew this, and planned to make the best of it. He turned to head back to the console when a panicked servo grabbed his wrist; gentle enough that he knew just who was in charge of that particular motion.

"K-knock...d-don't let-tt-t me go-o.." Breakdown begged, the red optic offline.

The medic walked back over to him, holding his jaw carefully in his servo. "Trust me, Breakdown. You'll survive," he replied, his normal cadence of elegance and repose adding to the lilt of his voice. A universal sign that he was calm, everything would end in the medic's favor, and all Breakdown had to do was listen to what his mate said. Nodding, the bruiser collapsed under the effects of the serum, his golden optic dimming.

Silas was still in a daze from how the circumstances had shifted so violently against him. He still could not move his body; whatever the medic had injected had shut down his connection to the body. Yet his mouth went unaffected. "You foolish medic, thinking you could get away with something like this? Without me, Breakdown will be dead, lost to you. Are you really willing to risk losing your 'Love?'" Silas snorted on the last word, mocking the emotion. They were at war, what good did romance do them? They were robots, could they even fall in love?

"You've been on this planet for so long, you think you're one of us. Love? As if your kind can feel anyth-" Silas's words were cut off as a sudden burning sensation cut sharply into his back. Liquid fire coursed through his veins, making him arch forward as much as the constraints would allow with a loud roar.

Knock Out smirked, turning around to face the screaming man. A sense of vindictive victory filled his spark as he sauntered over, putting a teasing claw tip under the scarred chin. "Trust me, Silas. This is better than the alternative. As for love? As for the concept? My people are hundreds of thousands of millennium ahead of you and your pathetic race. We invented love. You twisted it," he crooned, sickeningly sweet at the dying man.

Flicking his finger upwards, the medic turned back to the console, opening up a file that he had kept saved. Maybe a sense of loyalty, maybe sentiment, maybe stubbornness that refused to believe his mate was dead prevented him from deleting the file. Breakdown's medical history. Setting up a new log, he synced it to the shut down mech on the berth. With every pulse of the serum, Breakdown's Cybertronian half took control, as Silas slowly died.

It took a few minutes, but eventually the M.E.C.H. leader was silent. Knock Out took little joy in the knowledge, instead focusing on separating Breakdown and Silas's nervous systems while the bruiser was in stasis. Eventually, Knock Out was successful in the operation, extricating Silas from Breakdown. The charred remains of the human laid next to Breakdown's unconscious form, leaking neon blue energon from his back.

Breakdown's vitals were getting better, his spark rate slowly strengthening to its normal pulse. Knock Out pulled up a chair and watched his partner wait in stasis, glaring intermittently at the dead human. A few joors passed, and Knock Out felt that he couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. Hooking Breakdown up to an IV, he let the diluting solution enter his mate's frame, washing out the stasis serum. All he could do now was wait.

Alone. He was finally alone. In his mind, in his body; Breakdown was all that existed. No more Silas. It was... disorienting. Very disorienting. How had he gotten back to the Nemesis? After all this time in the shadows, watching as his body was desecrated and turned against the mech he loved; he couldn't exist in this plane of being anymore.

I succeeded...I finally beat him...my spark has moved on...the Well...

Breakdown groaned, shifting slightly. Then why does my body feel so heavy still?

Opening his optics, Breakdown blinked, the light much brighter than he would have expected. Once he let his optics adjust, he realized that he was in the medbay on the ship. Was he still haunting in that inbetween world? Had he not moved on at all? The bruiser sighed, dropping his helm back on the berth he was on. Even the berth feels the same. Where am I?

"Breakdown...please be okay...please be okay..." a familiar voice whispered. Showing emotions only Breakdown was privy to hear, displaying weakness that could get him killed any other place.

"...Knock Out?" he whispered, attempting to sit up. His voice was very weak, but stronger than during the previous fight. "What...what are you doing here?" A heavy breath wrenched through his vents, making him fall back against the berth. A servo, shaking with relief, cradled his jaw, the thin thumb swiping along his cheekstrut. Soft gasps of air (whether of surprise or happiness) echoed in Breakdown's spark, making him press gently into the hand on his face. "Please, Knock Out...tell me...where am I?"

"You're home..." the medic replied, a watery whisper the best he could manage. "You're back...you're back, you're here, you're alive," a choked laugh ending the word, yet adding emphasis despite the shortened sound.

The lain up blue mech watched his mate crying softly, bringing his servo up to Knock Out's arm. His warm touch further cemented the idea that he was alive, fully alive and cognitive. That he had come back and was here to stay.

Knock Out looked up at the console, watching for a few moments. Spark rate and respiratory rate had returned to a shadow of their normal numbers. Knock Out reached behind him, grabbing a cube of medical grade energon. He eased Breakdown into a sitting position, bringing the cube to his lips. "Drink, please..." he softly implored.

Breakdown accepted the cube, draining the liquid inside. With each drink, the spark rate strengthened, the healing process beginning. When the cube emptied, Knock Out found himself pulled down into a kiss, Breakdown's mouth moving gently against his own. He's real...he's here...he's back, and he's not leaving...

Review please, I do so enjoy it when you do. I promise I'm working on Reach Out, but I needed to get this little prompt out of my head. Sorry for the open ending, but hey, what happens next is up to you... Hope you enjoyed!

3 Huntress