Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Even with the jitters of a low adrenaline high making Dorothy rolls her shoulders again, she can ignore it just enough with focusing on her family's safety, growth, and settling in again.

"Alright Hashtag," Calling out to the tallest of her baby Terrans, "Put Bumblebee down. I think you've celebrated him out."

"Sure thing Mom-Dot!" She chirps in an accent that had a bit of Cockney Brit in it.

Shaking her head, Dorothy just nods to Bumblebee as he nods back to her in thanks – Inhale, exhale. Count to ten – before he starts to corral them towards Optimus' trailer. Smiling, Dorothy turns to Alex and kisses him on the cheek.

"Can you help with the round-up? I want to do a check-in with the big bots." Hooking her thumb back to them.

"Course Dottie." Alex smiles up at her like she held the universe.

Cupping her face, he leans up for another kiss, one that lingers and has both of them holding onto each other a little tighter. When they finally lean back, Alex presses one more quick peck to her lips before he's jogging off to catch up with the rest of their family. 

Inhale, exhale. Count to ten.

Dorothy recites to herself again as she rolls her shoulders and shakes off the tingle in her right thigh. It causes her to limp the first few steps, but motion gets the sensation under control, and soon she striding up to Megs and Optimus as they talk in low tones.

" — good as new."

"I do not doubt it, but I rather burn off this nitrous first," Megatron grumbles, shifting his right shoulder, which makes a hollow groan that has Optimus making aborted motions to him, "Optimus. I am fine," He waves him off with a slight upturn of his lips, the red light of his optics dimming as he narrows them, "I've had worst done to me by that dinobot of yours."

Even as Optimus grimaces at whatever memory that must be, he still nods in acquiescence, "I am aware, but Grimlock has only ever bitten off chucks of your arms. He has never attempted to slice through it. And certainly not in the wrong spot."

"I would be colored impressed if he knew where." Megatron smirks.

"Don't underestimate him again," Optimus chides, the faintest of smiles on his lips, "It's how you kept getting bit."

Harrumphing at that, which meant it was true, Dorothy will admit that she thought the same when she met the Dinobots' leader. But that soon changed when she and many others watched him fight. It was frightening as he wasn't only quick on his feet with all that brute strength, but quick in figuring out how to fight his enemies.

"Hey you two," Standing straighter when they looked down at her, their glowing optics still a bit too bright with the waning sun to their left, "We're going to get out of here. We were hoping to have Optimus give us a lift, unless you need to stay until G.H.O.S.T. gets here." The bitterness in her tone a bit heavy-handed today, but Dorothy thinks its allowed.

Optics widening, Optimus looks to Megs, then the twisted form of the half-sunk factory, and finally to where his trailer was just beyond the dock, indecision marring his face and making Dorothy feel a bit bad for springing that on him so suddenly.

"I will stay and wait for G.H.O.S.T."

"What?" She and Optimus both look to Megatron in shocked only for him to roll his optics.

"I can say I stayed with the wreck, since I'm clearly injured, while you went patrolling to see if Mandroid or any of his arachnamechs got away. I'll even throw in that Dorothy went with you if they ask about her whereabouts."

"If you're sure —" Optimus starts, beating Dorothy to the question, but Megatron just shakes his head.

"The Terrans are our priority now." He says stiffly as he heaves himself up, him and the car creaking in unflattering ways.

Megatron reaches out to pick her up, but passes her over into the cradle of Optimus' open palms, and at her new height can see that the Autobot was not pleased but agreed.

Optimus never did like leaving a man behind.

"You are correct, old friend." Optimus sighs, lips pulling to the side as he watches Megatron, unimpressed, as the helicopter rolls his optics and mutters 'Of course'.

"Big Red," Agent Schloder voice cuts through the friendly moment, "We got your message and we're in route. ETA fifteen minutes. Confirm?"

Before Optimus can reach for his right audial Megatron is somehow patching through into his system and answering for him. Dorothy wondered how, but her specialty lend itself to biology and ecology, not engineering. 

"Agent Schloder," Megatron bites out in that vaguely friendly, but clearly threatening tone of his, "Optimus is currently doing a perimeter check and cannot give himself away. He will comm us when he is sure he will not be made by his prey. Understood." Grinning widely and winking at them before turning his back so he was watching the wreck.

Dorothy expects them to start moving, but after a few seconds she turns to Optimus, seeing how he was softly staring at Megatron's back with a small tender smile, and she wonders. And seeing how he jolts into action, obviously catching himself, and turns quickly to walk them over to where the rest of her family waits Dorothy thinks her first thought isn't so far off.

Though she’s pretty sure that Megatron won't notice, and Optimus won't act on it, which means the next couple years are going to be more ridiculous than they already are. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Dorothy shakes her head with a smile.

I'm not even surprised this is my life anymore.

"Alright Prime, squeeze his servo again."

Ratchet watches as Optimus gives the gentlest of squeezes, looking pained when Megatron doesn’t squeeze back, not registering it. His EM field flutters sadly at it as Megatron's spikes in jagged jumps as the former Decepticon Leader glowers down at his arm and servo like they had personally insulted him.

The scanner pings back and Ratchet finds he's still missing the connection of at least fourteen nerve-bundle wires, some from Megatron's heavy-duty transformations during the fight against a ... Man-droid?

Honestly, it was briefings like this that had Ratchet happy he wasn't in the field or on clean-up anymore.

But whatever or whoever it was had taken out a great deal of the wires with their hackjob to take the helicopter’s arm, but it was the final hit that knocked him down and had crushed most of the connectors. Though it was concerning that this unknown entity knew that he needed the whole arm and that they were mere centimeters off. The only saving grace was that without its connection to the cannon it wouldn't fire, a safety mechanism to keep Megatron from being shot in the back if he didn't have it. The other safety feature was the power source, and a regular human would lack any power that could power The cannon.

Or at least Ratchet hoped so.

"And it's not causing any distress?" Optimus asks again, causing even the medic to roll his optics.

But he also catches how Megatron's glare softens somewhat as he looks back to his former rival.

"As I said before, not at all. The only distress I find myself in is that I can't feel your servo in mine," Megatron smirks easily, red optics gleaming with as much mirth as his EM as Optimus' field sputters, "Though perhaps my repair is being delayed."

The gunmetal bot’s tone is all faux accusation, the need to pick a fight still humming in his flight engines, but if he thought he was getting a rise out of him he had another thing coming.

"If I'm correct, and I always am here," Slowly gesturing to the medbay with his scanner, "You didn't want to go under so I could strip back all the plating and disengage your arm. No one is here to watch you be 'brave', just stupid." Ratchet huffs, not hiding his smirk as flight engines rumble low and the left side of Megatron's plating begins to flare up in offense.

But just as quickly Optimus is expanding his field, the palpable hope and tranquility of the Prime lowering the tension that Megatron brought with him everywhere he went.

"I thought there was a rule here that no antagonizing glyphs were allowed," Optimus says pointedly as he looks up at him, Megatron grinning like a cybercat. But it is short-lived, "That includes you too Megatron." Leveling that 'I'm not mad, just disappointed' look at the other mech.

"He started it." Both of them say, but Ratchet isn't enough of a youngling to gesture at the other as Megatron did.

'The Look' becomes more drawn with the addition of his fins tilting back, Optimus' unknowing version of turbopuppy eyes, which seems to be as effective on Cons as it was on the most rambunctious of the Autobots. Megatron's pinched look was a thing of beauty, like a building had just been dropped on him and Starscream had proven him wrong.

It was wonderfully unflattering. 

With a humph, the former Con settles more into his seat on the exam table, his field held still. This was the closest thing Ratchet was getting to an apology, he's sure once he's out of audial range Megatron will apologize to Optimus in his own way.

Or right now.

Ratchet has to hold back the atmosphere he wants to vent, a strange but useful human action, at how Optimus instantly brightens and Megatron returns it with a light smile.

Turning his back on the sickening sweet scene, Ratchet steps over to the other exam table a couple dozen meters away. He stands on the other side so he can lean back against it as he updates his personal datapad while also giving the odd couple some time alone. Against his better judgement, Ratchet hasn't said much about this in recent years.

He knows they’re something to each other now, but he also knows that Optimus mentioned early on that he can’t show favoritism, which Ratchet agrees with, especially with their situation.

He never much cared for G.H.O.S.T. in it's totality, less so with its name having 'ordinance' in it. It didn't give the best first impression if anyone paid attention to it. The humans were fine though, even if he had only gotten along with a few of the agents, mostly in R&D. But they soon left to procure civilian rank again after a short while of being with the newly formed Special Ops organization. 

Something I thought I'd have by now. 

Unable to hold in the vent, Ratchet sighs at the loss of what could have been. He didn't blame Optimus for his decision to blow up the bridge or how the humans kept a critical eye on them. He will however blame whatever oil-stain slagface higher-up that thought it was okay to try and hack into his files on his teammates and friends!

After that Ratchet had put in the bare basic info the database provided. He's sure all his mentors from Protihex Medical Mechanics University were rolling in their graves – as the humans say – for his lack of protocol. But it was for the safety of the Autobots and the very few Decepticons that had made Earth their home. Even the Cons that decided to hold on to their more aggressive beliefs were in this group as Ratchet would never allow an entity he didn't fully trust have access to healing POWs.

Besides, with Wheeljack doing something to connect his datapad to some analog, but vast, network called 'cloud storage' Ratchet could have all the detailed notes he wanted. Like how he had to flush the systems of Megatron's arm and then direct the mech's nanobots to clean up the leakage that could have seeped into his chassis. Rolling his optics as he inputs that, Ratchet sneers at how much of a paranoid fragger Megatron has remained, not letting him do a deep clean, ever! And Primus knows if it's ever happened before.

Shaking his helm, Ratchet closes out his form, his optics falling on the one below it marked Terrans.

Wheeljack had spoken at length about one of them, Twitch, and had minor makeup data on her, but nothing that would be more useful to detail what they were looking at with this new species sect. It was interesting and hopeful to know about them, as well as incredibly infuriating that Ratchet was stuck here. He somehow found himself under less scrutiny than Optimus and Megatron, yet had the most security pointed at him. Maybe the paranoia that Smokescreen diagnosed him with was correct, but Ratchet rather be overly prepared for anything than not.

And yet somehow, I hadn't prepared for this!

At that moment, massaging the bridge of his nose ridge, Ratchet wishes he could be in more than one place so he could make sure these Terrans were on the road to living healthy functions and —

"There are car shows in the area, right?" He asks sharply, even as he starts checking for street races in the state, Philidelphia coming up near constantly.

There was abrupt silence behind him before a deep rumbling chuckle was followed by Optimus' agreeable tone, "Yes. I believe we can get him to detour. Plus, the racing in Europe has cooled down as well."

"Good," Ratchet grins as he walks around the table, preparing his tools again, giving Megatron a pointed look, "He can do the full system's check for you too. It's been too long since your last one I'm assuming?"

Megatron glowers at him. Stubborn about his own health as Optimus was.

Are all leaders like this?

"My health —"

"Is equal to the Terrans. Everybots' health is," The medic cuts him off as his visor slides down and he gets back to work, "I better see it in his notes or you're going to see a side of me you won't like."

"I was not aware there were others to see." Megatron quips back before grunting at how Ratchet welds the nerve-ending wire back a bit too quickly before checking his work.

The low echo of his landing shakes the shallow river valley, a few of the shipping containers shifting before settling, and the fog resting over the waters dispels only to roll back over itself, conjugating into the thick mist again. Looking around the dock it was unbelievable how quickly G.H.O.S.T. was able to clean up the wreck of the mobile lab. The port looked completely undisturbed. No massive laser groove, cracked concrete, or broken buildings and cranes. Even the battleship had been removed.

Walking to the edge, Megatron looks out onto the water, scanning for any micron of debris, and finds nothing but the usual detritus that slipped into rivers and the aquatic fauna.

Impressive.

When the Autobot, Wheeljack, had come into the Mess all abuzz about the wreck, stating they collected it all Megatron had been skeptical. But Wheeljack had not stopped regaling all the bots that filtered in and out of G.H.O.S.T. for check-ins or fuel in the morning. Everyone was treated to an extensive ramble about the intriguing finds they were uncovering in the labs. Megatron only listened to it with half an audial as the only thing he was interested in was a location of Mandroid to pay him back for the new scar, and to figure out how he had controlled his former soldiers as Ratchet hadn't determined the cause for it as of yet. 

Silent minutes pass before a ferry's lights begin to cut through the thick fog, gleaming yellow and ruby optics easier to place in the darkness than the low powered Earth electricity. With a smile, Megatron holds aloft his left servo as he tracks the anchor being swung around in Breakdown's servos before the brawler launches it to him. 

Stanching it out of the air, Megatron wraps the chain around his arm twice and displaces his mass down, Breakdown making quick work of pulling the ferry to the dock with him as the anchor point in the fullest literal sense. He brings them in a touch too quick, the bow of the ferry knocking against the dock with a dull thud, but nothing that disturbed the peace.  

"Knockout. Breakdown. I trust your voyage was well?" Laying the chain and anchor down softly.

"Great Boss! No delays or anything this time."

Breakdown grins before he's turning around and walking over to the small bridge where Knockout is all but lounging back on it. With a cheeky wink, Knockout uncrosses his legs and scoots closer to the edge so his conjunx can grasps his hips and pick him off the structure. But ever the romantic, Breakdown walks with his ruby red cargo onto the concrete dock.

Megatron is sure it's mostly for the joy of holding his partner as much as it was for making sure the river water didn't touch Knockout at all.

A cranky medic was a feral medic after all.

"You caught us at the perfect time M," The medic grins slowly, as his pedes touch solid ground, sauntering over with nary a sound, "We were coming in for a race in Philadelphia and a car show in Boston. I need to see if I need a new model."

Nodding, he asks, "And no issue with registration?"

It was something they all had to do when crossing over borders and it was an easy enough concession that the Autobots and the few non-aggressive Decepticons had agreed to. For some reason or another humans were particularly touchy about moving between designated lands. 

A puff of atmosphere is his answer as Knockout rolls his optics, "Agent killjoy was there, but luckily by video so I muted him. But not before he made sure to remind me that I'm on warning two." He sneers, plating puffing out.

Megatron chuckles as he is aware of Agent Schloder's dislike for Knockout, and vice versa, the bi-monthly meetings the human held at HQ always having one section dedicated to the medic’s conduct. He can understand to an acute degree as the Helexite is an acquired taste and has a habit of viciousness when he feels wronged that Megatron can admired. But it also takes a lot to ruffle Knockout's plating, and shockingly, at their first meeting, the human found a way to push all of Knockout's buttons.

"I assume three with this 'borrowed' ferry of yours."

At the mere mention of it a spark of excitement comes from Breakdown as Knockout's field is full of pride as his face plates settle into an overly smug expression.

"I just don't think so M. Breaky?"

"We got it all planned out Boss!" The jeep says demonstratively, servos open wide as his smile, "The Susquehanna River is one of the most dangerous river in the state because of its currents. Oh! And did you know that because it's so wide it has a collection of islands all around. They're cute. But what I was saying was that with those currents, it's not like boats haven't floated off right? We'll just put in an anonymous tip after the humans that own it put out a call for it. Great plan, right?"

It difficult not to grin at the bright energy the former Stunticon had. Once one of his quietest followers, Breakdown had since been more vocal in the years after choosing to demilitarize with him.

"It has merit, but I suggest a delay. Perhaps two hours after to avoid suspicion." Breakdown nodding as his optics frost over as he changes parameters for the alert.

"So," Knockout starts, face plates smoothing into a charming expression, "I got to read what old Jacks had to say on the 'possibility of forming Cybertronian life on a carbon-based world' and listened to Prime’s history lesson on the Emberstone," Pausing, a brow ridge lifts expectantly, "I know we weren’t asked to detour for small talk. What is it. That you. Want?" Each word punctuated with a sharp tap to his arm.

"Your skills. Though surely you know and wish only to hear that praise again," Smirking at the faux gasp of shock from the medic, "I have been threatened to receive a full work up, but your main objective and more important quarry will be incredibly delightful."

That immediately draws a suspicious look from the bonded.

"I doubt anyone is happy for a check-up unless they're angling for something else." Knockout lifts an optic ridge as he leans back against Breakdown.

"Trust me," Megatron grins, "And if I’m wrong, I will make sure you get two barrels of the brew I’ve just completed."

"Oh, has it been five years already?" Knockout asks even as Breakdown gives them both away with his excited grin and shoulder platings’ aborted little jump.

"Don’t jest. I know it is on your processor." Smirking at the smaller bot.

Shameless, red mech shrugs, "I’m a mech with taste, so sue me."

"The last one was pretty good Boss." Breakdown agrees, "So what did you want in exchange?"

While not overly hostile or needing to blackmail each other – anymore – the practice of low-stake bartering had passed seamlessly over to the demilitarized Decepticons as a various set of hobbies were rediscovered or discovered for the first time during their peaceful exile.

"The ingredient list to Knockout’s polish and we're even."

Grinning from rim to rim, Knockout looks like he was just told he’d get a chance to race against the likes of Blurr or Hot Shot while sporting a vintage Earth car mode.

"Vanity finally taking root?"

"Not at all."

And yet, the grin grew, smug as a pneuma-lion’s grin, "Ah... I see."

"Do you?" Megatron challenges the medic, receiving no response as he walks around him with a gleam in his field.

"I'll take your measurements during your check-up and adjust it," He says instead, "So where are we off to?" 

"These coordinates," Sending them over short-wave comms, which has the bonded standing straighter and on alert, ready for action, "Scope out the area before contacting me with a suitable area for a tirage-tent."

"Of course my liege. We will not fail." Knockout smirks, a dangerous lift to it.

Then folding down into his sleek Aston Martin mode, he flashes his headlights in code to say 'Contact soon' before tearing off to the edge of the docks, Breakdown revving and following after. Once the headlights weren't visible Megatron jumps into the air, taking off in the opposite direction to dissuade detection. He had only circled back, getting no farther than an Earth mile, when his comm is pinged from a nearby tower.  

Checking it he answers curiously, "Breakdown?"

"Sir, I think... Thundercracker says he hasn't seen anything after we told him, but I'm sure they're following me. Us."

Megatron wasn't surprised, not with how gestalts worked, but it would prove a hinderance if they weren't apprehended soon as the other Stunticons had proven they had no want for peace. Right now, the gunmetal mech could only hope that the ocean crossing had stalled or delayed them if they had indeed picked up Breakdown's trail. It was Knockout's constant traveling that had been the biggest deterrent in the gestalt pinning them down, not their best strategy in hindsight.

But no matter, Megatron would attempt reason again, but if not, he had no issues fighting the overly confident and inadept Motormaster and showing him once again why he should never cross him.

"Thank you for telling me Breakdown. I'll have Prime's bots look into it." Pushing his engines so he could relay this to Optimus without delay.

Chapter Text

"Bumblebee —"

"I'm fine," He snaps before hunching in on himself, winglets bunching in as Optimus' comforting field flinches back, leaving his sensory horns buzzing, "Sir. Optimus. Really, I'm fine." His tone a touch too close to a pout for his own liking.

He didn't like this, but a lot of stuff he didn't like he had to do. It came with being an Autobot solider. A warrior.

And he was a warrior. The finest battle-scout the Autobots' ever had. Practically Optimus' right servo... well, second... third servo bot? – Anyway! He was in Optimus' close circle and that had merit. Merit that was important to Bumblebee because he had earned it through time spent around the Prime and his own experiences on the battlefield. Experiences that taught him to never look weak in the face of adversity.

But when that adversity was Knockout it became almost impossible to not act like a newspark, responding to everything from the ex-Con's snark, to his sharp words, or contemptuous expressions.

No! No! No! Get out of your processor! You can't already be riled up by him. He's not even here! 

"I understand that you two are not on friendly terms and likely never will be," Optimus starts again, Bumblebee barely holding in the snide 'Really, you think?', "But it is important that you do not show any hostility towards Knockout. The Terrans take after you and —"

"And if they see me being all prissy with Knockout, it'll make the check-up difficult, and then Ratchet will be upset, and then no-one will be happy," Bumblebee huffs before his words catch up with him, "Actually that sounds way worse than two hours with Knockout." Shivering at the mere thought of Ratchet tracking him down for keeping the Terrans' new medical records from him.

A stuttered chuckle is his response, and looking up he sees Optimus hiding a smile behind his fist.

"I'm glad you can bury your disinterest in each other for the sake of all our continued peacefulness."

"Of course, this is a life-or-death situation," Standing straighter and tucking his winglets back as he drops his tone for something more akin to when he was giving reports, "The Hatchet must not be angered."

The next chuckle had more coughing than last one and Bumblebee calls it a win.

Turning back, he looks over his shoulder to see all the Terrans and the Maltos still playing a game of I Spy in the manicured field, Ranger Malto or Alex explaining anything Mo and Thrash or Robbie and Twitch couldn't. It was the only non-tactile game they could think of so that Knockout could get the cleanest readings on them – Minus the whole boss battle they had with Mandroid – and with it being a clear day and the area Knockout had chosen being so open, it was perfect.

Then high-power revs cuts through the calm and Bumblebee has to stifle the rumbling groan in his engine and pull his EM field close, Optimus' comforting hand on his shoulder thankfully pushing it all the way down to a muffle. And just in time for the ex-Con to make an entrance.

No need to let him think he won the war.

The scout growls to himself, winglets pitching back as the glimmering DB11 pulls an incredibly neat drift – No tire tracks at all! How does he do that?! – before he transforms, the sunlight shining glaringly off his smooth finish. But what happens next has the scout almost, almost, throwing out all his pride as he resists the urge to throw his servos up in the air as Knockout reaches out a clawed servo in mid-transformation, and ever kind-sparked, Optimus takes his servo to help him up!

Even though he doesn't need it! Bumblebee fumes, crossing his arms to keep himself from giving himself away.

"Rims." Knockout purrs, his engine revving lightly as he grins up at Optimus with a smirk more at home on a playbot, or one of those femme fatales in the human movies.

Rolling his optics, Bumblebee barely holds back the vox click, Fragging Helexite eccentricities.

He really wishes he could file it under some weird thing Knockout did, but Bumblebee did know a few Helexites that did the same, how designations held prominence in their culture. Nicknames were bestowed on anyone that spent more than a solid primary orbital cycle in their presence, and the matter of the name showed off how well they revered, respected, or were indifferent to you. 'Rims' apparently came from Knockout's appreciation of Optimus' frame – Which, yuck! TMI he had to unfortunately know – but also how he had bested the medic several times, yet let him live. Optimus did deserve respect, but the fact it had to be a nickname like 'Rims' just had static crawling over Bumblebee's plating.

"Knockout. I hope you enjoyed your drive here." Smiling down at the medic.

"Very scenic in a frumpy way, but it has its charm," Knockout shrugs before squeezing Optimus' servo and winking, "Much like yours."

"You have an Conjunx you know."

Expression falling, Knockout turns to him, bored, and venting air at him.

"Hello scout," A terse acknowledgement of his title, "I'm aware of my happy status. Thank you for reminding me." The flat tone and dismissive roll of his optics pushing Bumblebee over the edge, his field flaring out.

Knockout whips around to the challenge, optics blazing as his closely held field twitches as his windows and wheels lift threateningly.

"Bumblebee," Optimus rumbles with reproach, "Knockout, do not —"

"Interesting choice," The medic cuts in, his whole frame falling back into neutral as he scrutinizes him, "X12. The limited American model and build, I assume?" Tapping a claw against his chin as he looks Bumblebee up and down.

"W-What of it?!" Novastorm's spiteful, and untrue, comments replaying snidely in his processor. 

"Nothing. Just you would choose that." He shrugs, Bumblebee falling into his trap of words as his winglets fly up into a sharp V, Knockout smirking easily at him.

"Knockout..." Optimus sighs heavily, his smokestacks heaving too, but he doesn't get further than that as Knockout begins to circle him with a critical optic.

"And talking about changes... From flat Cab-over to a more pronounced Peterbilt. Your taste is still impeccable," Then lightning quick like a viper he's back around front and leaning into Optimus' space, "I also quite like the new helicopter mode our mutual ally has decided on. Fills everything out more, am I right?" Optic ridges lifting with meaning.

Disgust claws over all Bumblebee's circuity, winglets twitching erratically. Turning to Optimus, he mental begs him to make this all stop, that is until the sensors in his winglets track a faint heat coming off Prime and Bumblebee is struck mute in horror as he watches a disaster unfold in front of him that he can’t turn away from.

"It... It does indeed," Optimus resets his vox, coughing into his right fist as his taller set of finials flick back and forth, trying to ignore Knockout's gleaming optics, "Lends to ease in the field..." Trailing off unconvincingly as all four finials pull back completely.

Shifting back to neutral, Knockout's mouth pulls to the side, unimpressed, as he folds his arms behind his back, fixing Optimus with a stare that would've had Ratchet grading it with an apathetic, 'Good stare'.

"Prime." His tone hurt as he pouts, but his lips twitch as he tries so hard to not laugh at how flustered he has the Prime.

Frowning, Optimus looks away, murmuring, "Yes...... He does have more... Robust and rounded features that fit him well."

"Like I thought. Those hips are for holding no doubt." Knockout crows in victory, shoulder kibble ruffling happily.

A bleat of static crawls out of Bumblebee's vox as he watches steam pour out from Optimus' smokestacks as his field goes wild and wobbly with embarrassment and panic while he tries and fails to say anything.

"What'd he do this time?"

Spinning to the voice he finds Breakdown transforming to his left, looking at them like they were the bizarre entities here and not his Conjunx!

"Whatever it is, you know Knockout meant for this level of chaos." Ranger Malto says, much closer than he expected.

Turning again, Bumblebee wants to wave away the Terrans and Maltos, but at this point it was too late. 

"Wow," Jawbreaker marvels, "You’re so shiny." The others softly laughing at the awe in his voice.

Sidestepping away from his current prime victim, Knockout grins flatly at the Terrans, optics scrutinizing them all. Bumblebee more hears his winglet hinges rings against his plating as the hike up higher than they should in defense, but then the medic's expression softens, at least by Knockout’s standards.

"Thank you, glad to see the next generation has style," As he strikes his 'signature pose' of popping one hip rotator to the side and bracing his servo against it, his claws already starting up that awful drumming, "So do they know what's going on here?" Looking up to Optimus.

Nodding with a smile, he swipes his arm out widely to both, "Terrans. Let me introduce you to some of our friends, Knockout and Breakdown. A doctor and nurse respectively."

"Breakdown?" Twitch buzzes, floating up and over to the blue bruiser, look him over, "Like the Stunticon? From the comics!?"

With a hardy laugh, he gently pokes at her center, Twitch giggling as she holds her middle and floats back, "One and the same, you little aerial."

"You’re Decepticons!" Hashtag squeaks, stepping closer to Breakdown as well, circling him from all angles.

If Bumblebee wasn't trying to look composed, he would have cracked a smile at how confused the other seemed as he tries to follow her but loses her with Twitch circling him counterclockwise and always getting in the way.

"I believe 'would' would be more appropriate." Nightshade offers looking slightly confused at using the verb twice, but English was weird like that.

"Something like that," The medic grins sharply, "But I'll have to see these comics. I hope they got our good side." 

"Every side is your good side."

"Aw, Breaky, be still my spark —"

"Wait – Wait – Wait!" Thrash waves his hands, getting everyone's attention only to point right at Knockout, "You were a Decepticon? I don't see it. How’d you fight the Autobots anyway?" Folding his arms, he flashes his signature smartass smirk as both Ranger Malto and Alex try to intercept, "Did you just flash your shiny paint at them and blind them into submission." He laughs, looking around to see if his siblings will join in.

Instead, it's dead silent, only the whistling of the birds around the edge of the tree line, and even they sounded muted.

Breakdown's plating folds down tight against his shoulders, digits bunching together, but Bumblebee barely opens his mouth when the other's golden optics are gleaming down at him, "Don't say a thing," He hisses, turning back to frown down at Thrash, "Wouldn't deck a bitlet even if they did deserve it."

... Strangely comforting. Is all Bumblebee can think as he steps away and slightly in front of the Jeep, just in case.

Which is a good call as Mo whispers something that has the motorbike aghast, throwing his hands out and shouting, 'But it was funny!' looking around for support. But it really hits Thrash that he's the only one that thought it was funny because Optimus, Ranger Malto, and Alex were all looking at him in disappointment, the newest Terrans were just look confused, and Twitch was less than impressed, rolling her eyes at her twin. His indignation dies down pretty quickly after that, but Bumblebee's spark goes out for the younger bot.

Pits, if he was younger, that definitely would have been a dig he'd make. But he knew better now. 

"Mh," The uncharitable little hum has Bumblebee on alert, and the half-lidded glare and insincere grin slowly curling across Knockout's faceplates has all his systems raring to go, "Let's hope you never find out." He drawls, the tone smooth as it was threatening.

"Uhh." Thrash gulps.

And Bumblebee didn't need one of the Cybersleeves to tell him that Thrash was experiencing a fear no one was immune to, the wrath of a medic.

"Rule number one, never piss off the medic." 

Probably not the best thing to say at that moment as he finds himself at the other end of a very pointed look from Ranger Malto. Quickly raising his servos in surrender, she turns to one of her oldest, laying a comforting hand on his arm.

"Thrash. Sweetie. It's not really polite what you brought up, or how you did it. And I know, you know, making fun of someone for their appearance isn't alright. Right?"

"Yes Mom. Sorry Knockout." He mumbles.

"Thank you baby," She says sweetly, patting his arm gently before turning a glare so icy on the ex-Cons she might as well have thrown an iceberg at them, "And you two! Don’t you dare threaten my baby." 

"Lady Malto," Knockout croons in reverence, a charming slick smirk accompanying it, as he bends down so he can curl a single clawed digit around her free hand. The fact she lets the medic touch her is a surprise, because Bumblebee thought for sure she'd snub him, "You know I would do no such thing. Though I hoped they'd all have a bit more respect." Looking over to Thrash who swiftly turns away, arms crossed and likely pouting, if Twitch's quiet giggles are anything to go by.

"Ranger Malto," She corrects him, "And a drive-in?" Lifting a skeptical eyebrow as she looks around the Black Bear Run Drive-In Theatre.

It was a pretty popular spot as it had two screens instead of one, facing in opposite directions, but most importantly there was tons of tree cover. The driveway in was covered and had an old wooden arch with the titled name in front for humans to find. The drive up to the main part of the theater was a pretty basic four lane asphalt drive, two lanes to come in and two lanes to go out. But it was the common space that Bumblebee was sure this place was chosen. It was a circular 85ft in diameter paved brick patio, the interlocking blocks keeping plant life from breaking through. It meant it would be easy to clean with pressurized air and to set up a triage station.

"Two reasons my lady," Knockout holds up the digits as Ranger Malto rolls her eyes at him, "One is that I don’t want to be at your farm." He groans in disgust, shivering at the thought of dirt, and Bumblebee hopes he has nightmares about it getting stuck in his fancy 'steel belted radials'.

"Noted and shared." Ranger Malto deadpans.

"I'm sure it's nice lieutenant." Breakdown leans around him to smooth the slight, smiling as kind as he could.

"Ranger."

"Ranger." He amends.

"Two, I need to figure out the best vantage point for me and BD here for the matinee tonight."

"Don’t you need a sterile environment?" Alex asks hesitantly as he looks around the open space of the drive-in. The outdoor open space. With all the outdoor things.

"Would if we could, but we can’t, and I can make do with this," Knockout shrugs dryly before smirking up at Breakdown, "I've done more with less, haven't I?" He croons, the bruiser's external heat rising.

Gross! Sneering at the blatant innuendo as all the children and Alex look on in confusion, Optimus frowning in disapproval, but Ranger Malto is as cool as liquid nitrogen.

"I do have keys." 

Clapping his servos together, Knockout smiles at her and takes one large step back, "I'm going to start setting up triage. Breakdown." And not waiting for an answer, he makes his way over to the patio, Breakdown following after.

"Woah." Hashtag beams.

"Are there any Cons mom hasn't gotten respect from?" Robbie asks as his other siblings nod and look to her, though Ranger Malto was strictly watching the two.

"Very unlikely." Bumblebee huffs, knowing if it wasn't her, it was Commander Faireborn.

It really does take Knockout and Breakdown mere human minutes to set up a field operation that Ratchet would've been proud of. But in that time Mo and Robbie share a few stories about their human doctors that has Alex and Ranger Malto trying to curb those fears as all the Terrans rightfully turn bright wide optics their way. Bumblebee thinks he did a good job lying that it wasn't that bad, but Alex's subtle head shaking says otherwise.

"Maltos," Optimus intones, coming to kneel down to their level, "I realize this new experience may seem daunting. I myself sometimes have the same issue of seeing my own medic, though due to schedule conflicts."

Blinking, Bumblebee slowly looks to his leader, while Ranger Malto outright spins around to fix Optimus with an incredulous look, hands on her hips too. He'd usually back Optimus up on anything, but he had seen him on several occasions sneaking away - In the opposite direction! - from the medbay while bleeding.

"But finding out that you are safe and healthy, along with letting us know how to keep you that way will outweigh the fear, I promise. Doing this is to your benefit." 

"Benefit how?" Nightshade asks, their optics glowing brighter.

"As you are a new form of Cybertronian life, and do not act completely like myself, Bumblebee, or even Megatron, knowing how you do function will help us keep you healthy. If you do in some way injure yourself."

"Like an insurance policy!" Hashtag shouts.

"A what policy?" Jawbreaker looks up to her, fiddling anxiously with his digits.

"Apparently something you need before you even see a doctor." Robbie says right before Nightshade's optics glow brighter than before.

"Oh! Or an experiment!" They say with some understanding, "And if we have controlled information from before any injuries or surprise happenstances, with being in an open system, then we have a better chance of finding the cause." Grinning brightly and thoroughly enthused when Optimus nods.

"You're not... Not far off sweetie." Ranger Malto tells them haltingly with a strained smile he had come to understand with great clarity. 

"He's got the best definition by far." Knockout says walking back over, spraying his servos with nanite spray to protect them and his patients.

"It's actually they, them." Nightshade voices, Knockout looking up blankly before giving them a nod.

"Designation picked out yet?"

"Nightshade."

"Breakdown?" He calls out, with the bruiser lifting up a thumbs-up from where he's securing the triage tent.

"I'll change it in a nanosec."

"Alright brainy, do you want to be the first control value?" Knockout asks, smooth smile back in place.

Frowning, Ranger Malto steps forward, "Knockout. I don't want you —"

"Yes! May I!" Then turning to her, asks, "Please mom."

Pursing her lips she nods, Nightshade happily bounding over to the patio, all the Malto kids following and seemingly shocking Breakdown as he turns around and has to try and answer all the rapid-fire questions.

Hunh. I wonder if I ever looked like that when they did that to me ...... Nah! I definitely handled it better.

"They're fine," Knockout tells her, "If looking at it like an experiment calms them down, then it does and I'll use it."

Ranger Malto frowns harder, clicking her tongue, but ultimately sighing and shaking her head, "You're right. But I still don't like it." 

"I'm told that often," He smirks at her, "I'll add you to the statistics." Then promptly spinning on pedes goes to save Breakdown from the over-excited Terrans. 

"Why is he the most exhausting, and yet, I'm not even phased." She mutters as she lifts her right hand to massage her temple.

"That's possible?" Bumblebee grouses, now out of impressionable Malto hearing range.

Ranger Malto snorts before trying to collect herself while Optimus stands, shaking his helm, "Knockout is extravagant in his personality, but I don't think either of you will dismiss the fact that's probably better than Ratchet being the young Terrans first medic experience." Giving them both a knowing look that they quickly nod in agreement.

Bumblebee still remembers his first run-in with Ratchet when he was taken in by the Autobots. It was still seared into his memory core even after all these millennia and coming to find out that Ratchet had a soft spark. You know, somewhere, in there.  

"Don't get me wrong Optimus, I'm not upset. I just usually have time to collect myself. I didn't today and I'm sure it'll show. Especially because I can already tell he's making an impression." Looking back over to the patio where Twitch was sitting next to Nightshade and watching Knockout in awe as he scanned them while Breakdown explained what was happening to Hashtag. Only Jawbreaker and Thrash stayed back, standing behind Alex.

One of his many great attributes. Bumblebee fumes to himself, Optimus having to rest his servo on his shoulder to keep his winglets from going too high.

"As my job is done here, I'll leave you and your family to this private matter. If you need me, I will only be six miles away."

"Thank you Optimus. Really," Ranger Malto sighs, resting her hands on her hips, sparing a rare smile for him, "It's good to know they'll be okay."

"Of course Ranger Malto. We all want what's best for them." Then with a slight incline of his helm, and waving to the Terrans as they all shout goodbye, Optimus transforms and drives off. The lucky bot.

"Come on Bumblebee," Ranger Malto smiles up to him, waving him over, "Into the trenches again."

Sighing, winglets sinking, Bumblebee stands straighter and walks into his new warzone, "With you, I think I'll manage." Smiling as she agrees with a 'No doubt'.

"Uh? Mr. Knockout sir?" Looking down at the roundest of the bunch, Jawbreaker fidgets before looking up with enormous optics, "You have really nice eyes."

Resting his free servo over his chassis, his engine whines softly, "You're too sweet. You'll be a sparkbreaker with those lines."

Shoulder plates hiking higher, the young mech sways back and forth as his faint field pulses a soft embrassement-happiness.

"I don't know what that is, but I just really like them," Smiling to himself, "I haven't seen anyone else with them."

"Well they are one of a kind," Knockout preens as Breakdown shakes his helm as he scans Twitch in flight then in drone mode, "I did them myself."

The cries of 'Really!' come in stereo from Bot and Human, plus one scoff, but Knockout only rudely lifts his wheels back at the motorbike, "Yes really. Nearly painless too. But you can't deny the results." Winking for effect, all of them but the motorbike clapping for him.

"I like the two-tone color of them!" Hashtag shouts, miming the upward slope of crimson over the vermillion from one corner to the other, which was easy enough to do with her visor keeping her from poking herself in the optic lenses. Then looking to the Malto Elders asks, "Mom! Dad! Can I do that? I think purple and blue would look awesome! It's such a vibe together."

"Lavender on top of indigo would be my suggestion." Knockout throws out, smirking at the happy squeal the femme releases.

Much to Lady Malto's concern.

"We'll talk about it Hashtag," She cautions gently, "But I rather you wait a year to think about it first, and if it's something you'd really want."

He's sure she knows it's not permanent, not much is when their cybernetic makeup and own planet had the ability to change shape constantly. But then again, with Lady Malto being a Human creator, it likely hadn't registered yet, bringing Knockout up short.

Truly it all leaves him quite shocked, and he rarely is. 

It comes from a culmination of his sad bitlethood, being a Helexite in the big bad world, and trying and being smartest bot in the room. Add in the war and Knockout had seen it all.

Or so he thought.

These Terrans as they called themselves – Primi Lux Terra as Wheeljack and Ratchet had decided on their scientific name – were a perfect mix of carbon-based life and cybertium-based life. The alloys created from the bonding of the isotopes of the carbon-based materials was astounding! He never would have assumed there was a way to do so if he wasn't looking at it right now. And the discoveries continued with scans showing their spark chambers being left leaning and their tanks sitting at a lower heat index as they consumed straight minerals or mineral-rich water instead of Energon. Their EM fields were also fainter than what would be classified as normal, but the wavelengths were still within range, just weaker than anything he or Breakdown had seen.  

But for all they were a miraculous form of life that should be study, Knockout was more intrigued by how well-adjusted they were and how Lady Malto and her mate, Dr. Malto, handled and cared for them. Even though they weren't their own biologically, they cared all the same.

Knockout was not a stranger to jealously, but this time it was hollow, tinged more with hope that these Terrans and their Human siblings would always have this care and love.

A press of warm love-affection-understanding surrounds him and Knockout can't stop the huff of atmosphere as he turns away from Hashtag to Breakdown, his mate smiling softly at him before winking saucily and going back to his own scans. 

Looking back over the taller femme's makeup, Knockout clicks his vox. It would've been better if they were called as soon as Twitch and the motorbike had came online, before any fighting took place. But at least it seemed that the Terrans had nanites to help with healing, they just propagated at a slower rate. Likely a cause of a more carbon-based workup, but thankfully for them it seems they would and could recover from any normal issues a full Cybertronian would face, dismemberment and all that, though it would take a longer time to heal. But that didn't zero out the possibility of viruses, Earth or Cybertronian for them.

Oh joy. We're going to have to do innoculations. Knockout sighs to himself. Just because he was good at creating antidotes, doesn't mean he wanted to.

"And done. You were a gem Hashtag." He saves her scans to his datapad and digs into his subspace as the excitable femme asks,

"Does this mean I get the candy now!"

Pausing, he glances up at her and hums thoughtfully, pressing his dermas together at how she fails to not vibrate in excitement. Breakdown had given out the first one to Nightshade after they had finished their scans – And Breakdown answered as many of their questions as he could – for being the first one to 'bravely' be checked over. With a treat on the line, especially with the mineral intake needed, it left all the other bots clamoring to be next.

"I don't know. Does it." He teases, holding back a smirk at how the femme freezes and her optics zero in and out rapidly before going,

"Right! Duh Hashtag. Rude much," Smacking her helm with a little laugh before standing up straight and holding her servos out, "Dr. Knockout? Can I please have the candy now?"

Surprised again, Knockout's gaze darts to Lady Malto as she smiles proudly up at her tallest and Knockout's spark aches and pulls in more direction than one now.

"With such manners, you deserve two." Placing them in her outstretched servos.

He watches for only a nanosecond as she sighs happily and bites into the treat, going to share her own thoughts on how much she liked the taste with Twitch and Nightshade, Robbie and Mo giggling as they make their own assumptions about the taste based on what they could feel from the others. It was a gentle scene that Knockout didn't know where to equate it in his processor or spark, but knew deep down how he wanted the same somehow.

"Alright!" He claps, shaking himself from his solemn feelings and pushing back at Breaks' soft nudges, "Preliminary scans are done. Now it's time for spark checks. Who's first?" Looking to his captive audience as Breakdown goes to pin the tent flap back. 

"Why do they need to go in there to get their sparks check," Mo asks, "Can't you see it on your scanner?"

"Yeah," Her brother agrees, looking more skeptical than his sister's curiosity, "It's just their heart, so how come?" Folding his arms in defiance.

"'How come' is because its more than just that and is one of the most intimate parts of a Cybertronian." As charming as his 'tough mech' posturing was to protect his siblings, Knockout needed them to understand how serious this was.

"Wow! Really?" Mo asks as Nightshade excitedly asks, "There's more!"

"Of all the things I was going to do today, giving the – As the Humans say – the 'birds and bees' conversation was not it." He chuckles at all the intrigued stares turned his way.

"You'd've found a way." Breakdown throws back, lifting an optic ridge at Knockout's faked shock.

"Of course I would have, but you don't need to ruin it." He teases back.

"Birds and... bees?" Jawbreaker mumbles unsure, he and his siblings all turning to the facepalming scout before he takes notices and begins to steam in embarrassment, trying and failing to tell them all it wasn't about him.

"Honeybees I think," Calling all the curious optics back to him, "But basically —"

"Knockout."

Swiftly and elegantly turning to Lady Malto, knowing that if he didn't he could end up in a variety of trouble – She was endlessly clever like that, and once was good enough – and meets her flat expression with a passing smile. 

"It's important."

"Yes it is, but that's for another time."

"It's relatively harmless." Though his feelings on it were skewed from being a doctor and a Helexite.

Eyes narrowing dangerously, Lady Malto steps several meters closer, "And I'm still saying, wait a year."

Before he can make his case further, he's stopped by suddenly being further away from the determined Human, and most of the bots in the area, as strong steady servos lift him from danger and to the safety of his mate's shoulder.

"So strong!" Jawbreaker gasps, as do Hashtag and Twitch. Even the motorbike unfolds his arms to look on in awe, "How’d you do that – I mean! – How'd you get that strong!" As Lady Malto mumbles behind her hand, 'That's a good distraction as any'. 

"That was nothing bit," Breaks huffs, "Knocks barely weighs a thing." Squeezing his caught thigh a touch tighter.

Smirking at his whole hunk of mech, Knockout leans over to kiss the crown of his helm, directing affection-lust to ripple down the bond, caressing it fully, "Well someone wants to be lucky tonight." He purrs as Breakdown sighs happily back the bond.

"How would he be lucky?" Nightshade asks from behind them.

And unable to leave well enough alone, turns and rolls over to lean over Breaks' shoulder as he holds him secure so he can meet the young bot's optics.

"The birds and the bees." He faux-whispers, the younglings giggling in return.

It's almost worth it for the jolt of fear that shakes through him as keys are jingled aggressively in his direction.

"This is how I communicate!" Trying to hide his own laughter as he meets Lady Malto and Bumblebee's glares, "Anyway, who's first? And Dr. Malto, be a wonderful Human and join us so your Lady knows that I behaved." Smiling down at the short Human as Breakdown puts him down near the tent and he tactfully slips behind the tent flap.

"Of course," The Human smiles politely, going over to Lady Malto to squeeze her hand, whispering that 'It would be alright' before turning to the others, "So who's brave enough to go in with me first?" He asks his children, making sure to still encourage the others even when Twitch volunteers first and gets them in an order so they can run the spark check-up smoothly.

It was something Breaks would do if he had a sparkling or two to corral. If only they could.

Driving up the shallow incline of this particular Pennsylvanian rolling hill, Optimus is met with the wonderful sight of Megatron standing stalwart upon it, afternoon sunshine glinting strikingly off his gunmetal grey. 

"He seems to have still flustered your scout." Megatron hums in greeting, staying faced toward the drive-in and keeping his sensors on high alert.

"Yes," Optimus agrees as he transforms, "It does seem that the liveness of your medics have done so," He points out cheekily, coming to stand beside his partner, smiling as a faint smirk pulls at his dermas, "Though it can be said they all have that spark of that which they complain we have."

Megatron huffs in agreement, "And that's not including the hypocrisy of them being the worst patients to ever grace Primus' surface."

Biting his lower derma to hold his laughter, Optimus stands closer, letting his knuckles brush against Megatron's. As he does, he focuses his finials to a higher frequency and sets his vibration detection up three notches so he can still hear anything Megatron might say. He doesn't, but grey mech does gently knock his knuckles back against his, the both of them watching as Knockout and Breakdown run their pop-up clinic, easily weaving around the space. Though, as always with Knockout, there are instance of humor that has the both of their fields overlapping with humor. 

Eventually, Knockout and Breakdown finish up, and while Breakdown and Bumblebee kept the children busy with engaging in a truly unfair arm-wrestling competition, Knockout speaks to Ranger and Dr. Malto about whatever he had noticed. Not wanting to impose on such a moment, Optimus pulls back to his normal settings, Megatron as well as, he turns to Optimus with normal set optics instead of the zoom-in setting he found the taller mech with.

"How's your arm?" Optics trained on the laser burn gash that still bisecting down where Megatron's chassis meet his arm.

Megatron shrugs it, lifting plating as much as he can, a distraction as he reaches out to grasp Optimus' servo, squeezing it lightly.

"Only a light pinching," He admits easily, something Optimus holds close to his spark that he was allowed this trust, "I'll have —" 

"I can check it." He says before he can stop himself.

His finials pitch back in the next instant, embrassement coursing through his lines as Megatron stares down at him knowingly, though they cycle open to a softer setting as he half transforms his plating and kibble away for Optimus to see. Stepping closer, he peers up at the space exposed and sees the work Ratchet had done and how it was healing just fine, a thin line instead of thick welds holding burst lines together.

"Before I was so rudely interrupted," Megatron purrs, exhaling air across his right fins, chuckling as Optimus is unable to stop their twitching towards and away, like an Earth flower turning to the sun, "I'll have Knockout look over Ratchet's work. I know he'll have things to say." Folding the armor back into place.

"He always does." Turning into the other's space, letting their fields properly mingle as he curls his servos around Megatron's.

"Yes," He rolls his optics skyward, "I do believe he's making sure I go to the Well with the least amount of scratches possible."

"I appreciate the dedication," Optimus whispers, Megatron resting his helm against his own, "It means you'll be around for eons to come."

Optics bright and captivating as a red supergiant gleam contently down at him as he whispers, "I intend it to not go to waste."

"I know you won't." He whispers back against Megatron's dermas.

The taller mech pulls him close suddenly, sealing Optimus' faint gasp of shock with his dermas and letting go of his right servo to wind it around Optimus' waist. In turn, the Prime gladly wraps his field around Megatron's, the both of them sinking into its heady encompassing embrace.

The curl of appreciation is there and gone as their liplock slides into desperate territory, an amorous back and forth as engines rumble already as they try to be as close as they can in the time they have allotted for now. Force to maintain their professional roles, they are rarely allowed moments like this alone, making Optimus treasure every one more than the Matrix itself. 

Fans clicking up higher, just hidden by the subtle wind rustling through the forest, Optimus slides his free servo up and over the wonderful – And yes, ample – curves of Megatron's frame to cup his strong helm. Swiping his thumb over the swell of the grey mech's cheek, he pulls back some, needing to not get too drawn in here in the open, but still wanting to bask in the enjoyment of their dermas pressing delicately together. But as Megatron holds him closer still, his touch lighting up his spinal-strut like a molten brand and Optimus can't help relaxing into it, his helm falling back and Megatron reacting promptly, smoothly deepening their kiss for a moment before he starts on his new target. 

Gasping, Optimus can only hold on as Megatron nibbles at his throat cabling, alternating between mouthing at them to biting and gently pulling them, both sensations sending bouts of charge through his frame. As desire twist tighter he lets his expansive field fall freer, it easily wrapping around and caressing Megatron closer in a way that couldn't be anything but powerfully designed and imbued. Groaning into his neck, Megatron worries Optimus' main line, leaving him clutching at whatever kibble he can and holding his caught servo tighter as he shakes through a short burst of charge crest over.

"Megatron."

Disengaging from his neck, the mech swoops in, finding his dermas as Optimus leans back in, in a rush to search for his. It's beautifully sharp and sloppy and Optimus wouldn't trade it for anything. Anything, but more time.

As much as he wanted more, Optimus knew they had to meet back at G.H.O.S.T HQ in a matter of minutes and still had a trek ahead of them. Pulling his empowered field back, Optimus' dermas thin as Megatron grumbles, pulling away disgruntled as well, only to push into Optimus' servo still cupping his cheek. Joy reignited, Optimus gently tugs Megatron to him, the taller mech going willing and resting his helm against his again, humming happily. It was a deep and rolling tone that travel wonderfully down Optimus' own frame as Megatron presses closer. And if Optimus needed oxygen, he would have had it stolen away from him in that moment, overcome with joy and his own happiness that after everything they faced, they could have this, that they could be this to each other in a way neither could ever find.

And for a moment, they're timeless.

Tipping Megatron's helm back, Optimus just gazes up at him, at his unhidden joy and marveling at how he could put it there. How dashing and handsome it made Megatron. He can't help himself then, faced with such beauty, to not brush his digit-tips over his cheek and dermas, Megatron swiftly catching his servo to layer it with gentle kisses as he gazes lovingly down at him.

Pressing up into him, Optimus takes one last kiss, nipping at those full dermas to feel that full-frame rumble, a sultry rev, languid and low.

"So bold." Megatron murmurs as he brings his capture servo up to kiss the center of his palm.

"You like it." Optimus whispers coyly, loving how those expressive warm optics flash and cycled down on him.

"I do. I truly do, my adored Prime." He promises, everything from his optics to his field expressing that they would be continuing this tonight, and Optimus could not wait until they were timeless with one another again.

"Lady Malto, I'll be needing the Terrans for all of racing season." Knockout tells her as he tucks the neatly folded tent back into his subspace.

Squinting up at the hotrod, Dorothy folds her arms, "All year is racing season."

"I'm glad we understand each other." He smiles graciously down at her.

Lips pressing into a thin line, willing herself not to crack a smile, she blinks slowly to gather herself. How she was always charmed by these Cons was something she really need to look into.  

"I'd say I'd take it under advisement, but the answer is going to be no."

With a playfully putout sigh, Knockout shrugs, "I guess I'll have to settle for when I'm in country."

"We'll see about that," She challenges, not about to let her kids – near invulnerable or not – near some street drag race, "Now stop playing around. Is there anything I should know? And is anyone else going to know?" She asks pointedly.

Dorothy already knew she'd fight heaven and Earth, and whoever the bots prayed to too, if ever her children were in danger, but it didn't stop the coldness of fear finding her, telling her it wouldn’t be enough if anything from this meeting should get out. She was only one person and she could only take on so much, even with calling in every favor she was owed.

"Don't worry about that," Knockout waves her worry away, almost as if he knew what she was asking, "I was called here on Ratchet's behest since the old grump is trying to keep up his streak of being the most low-profile mech in existent," He clicks his tongue, smirking a bit like he just said something funny before looking down at her, his expression the most sincere it had been since he'd gotten here, "I'll only be sharing my data with Ratchet, Megatron, and the Prime. No one else."

Relief sweeps through her so suddenly Dorothy has to lock her left knee and rest hard on her prosthetic right to jolt her back to reality. She knew that Megatron and the Autobots only wanted what was best for them, they wouldn't have gone through so many hoops consistently for her and her family if they didn't mean well. They were hiding everything they did with her kids just so they could grow up without the crushing weight of the government on them. Yes, it was there, it always would be, but they provided a barrier that they didn't need to. Optimus could have taken Twitch and Thrash away, but he ceded to her, Mo, and Robbie and even welcomed it.

It was time to repay that debt he didn't know he had by trusting him fully that this would remain as hidden as it had been over the last few months.

"As for anything you need to know, the most incredible thing is that your biological children and the Terrans have a Cybertronian bond."

And there goes my worrying again, Dorothy thinks sarcastically to herself, even as she gives Knockout an unimpressed look, "I could have told you that." She smirks.

"But its the specificity of it,” He throws right back with his own smirk, "It's an Agnitio Endura."

"Agnitio?" Dorothy never really kept track of all the bonds the bots had, even with Alex going on one of his educated tangents, but it sounded familiar and not in a good way.

"Roughly translates to 'acknowledgement' in American English," Knockout tells her before his gaze cuts over to Breakdown specifically, "But it's broadly the type of bonds we see with Trines and Gestalts."

And now she remembers why she should be weary of that, having seen it in many briefings during the height of the war. Two of the Cons combiner teams made it to Earth, but thankfully Devastator got sent back to help against an Autobot defensive coming for the spacebridge from the Cybertronian side, staying there and not returning in time for when Optimus ultimately destroyed his people's one way home. It left only Menasor on Earth, but that was defunct with Breakdown going straight with Knockout.

By why did her kids all have it!

"How does that form?"

"Usually? Cold-construct creation or by osmosis when spending long stretches of time together with similarly resonating sparks," Knockout says seriously, optics glancing down at the kids now, "That's not what happened here. It's something else and something very special."

Which is the opposite of what Dorothy needs to hear. Of course she wants all her babies to be special in some way, but not in a way that will put them at risk of getting caught in this stalemate war or this new threat that came out of it.

"So they'll be fine?" She desperately hopes, calling the medic's attention back to her, but his flat expression not helping in anyway.

"They'll be okay," He says at last, but even she can hear the 'but', "They just need to learn and maintain their separate emotions. I didn't see a problem, but if they have too much bleed over it could lead from useful communication to misunderstandings and functional issues."

Swallowing, Dorothy nods, already making plans to have more talks with her kids on how to de-escalate and express the importance of talking their feelings out to each other, not just relying on the bonds between them to interpret each other's thoughts. But she would also be a fool to not look to the help right in front of her.

"And Breakdown would be their best chance."

Knockout blinks owlishly at her, head tilting to the side and everything, "... Yes. He would."

"I'll talk it over with Alex. And Megatron and Optimus. It might not be bad for you to spend some extended time around us." She tells him, ready to stand her ground, and maybe allow a race or two around the closed raceway if it meant her kids would get the best treatment.

But to her surprise Knockout just laughs, his nice one at that, and shakes his head, "I'm sure in even with your primitive age you can host a visual screen so you don't call too much attention to yourselves." He offers instead, smiling knowingly down at her.

And it was moments like this that Dorothy knew what the main base for her being charmed by Cons was, their unnecessary kindness and loyalty.

"Thank you Knockout.” Truly meaning it, smiling softly as he bows reverently to her.

"Of course my lady," Then with a secretive little grin, tells her, "Besides, you'll be seeing enough of me when they choose an alt-mode. I am their primary pediatrician now." Wheels and windows fluttering in a way she could tell was supposed to be innocent.

Unfortunately, they were attached to the least innocent bot in the galaxy.

With a playful groan, Dorothy shakes her head, allowing Knockout this win as she goes over to her family, feeling lighter about this whole ordeal now then she did this morning. But that's not to say she wasn't already preparing for the shenanigans that came with having Cybertronians in their lives, and she just upped that number again by two. Whatever else happened this year and beyond, it was only going to be more of an adventure than she bargained for when she came out to the country for her peaceful dream job.

Chapter Text

"Thrash? Thrash are you okay?"

Leaning back more against the barn wall, not caring that the wood made a concerning creaking, Thrash just sighs.

"Fine Mo."

"Yeah, he's fine," Twitch pipes up, even though no one asked her too, "He's just pouting."

Okay! Now really no one asked you! He thinks in her direction as Hashtag giggles next to her.

But before he could say it Mo is laying her hand over top of his, pulling on him to walk further back into the barn. Letting her, they get all the way to the back and sit done against the wall, looking out at the rest of their family.

Mom had gotten some recipe from Breakdown to make rust sticks – Which Thrash was so ready for! Those were like the best things he's ever tasted – getting four big barrels after they got back home and was now filling them with some solution. Well actually, it was Nightshade who was doing it, they had gotten really excited about ‘multiplying conversion’ and ‘scaling yields’ or something to make it right. Thrash hadn’t felt this much bubbling joy from the other side of his bond since maybe Twitch meet Wheeljack or Mo got the limited edition wrestler figure. He was glad for them, everyone deserved to feel like that.

It was nice to feel happy.

"So what's the matter?"

"Nothing's matter Mo."

"I'd believe you, if you weren't pouting." She says knowingly.

"I'm not," Which sounded a bit whiny, "I'm just frowning."

"Okay," She smiles and leaning into his side, "Why are you frowning?"

He doesn't answer, just watches his family at work; Jawbreaker and Robbie cleaning off all the wrought iron and metal fencing Mom brought over, Twitch and Hashtag were breaking or twisting the metal into fun shapes, and Mom decked out in goggles and Dad’s rubber gloves was dropping the finished products into the first two barrels Nightshade said was ready. Everyone was having fun…… Well almost everyone.

"It's silly." Folding his knees up to his headlight. And it was, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

"I don't think it is," Mo tells him softly, "If it's bothering you, that means it means something."

Thinking over that ‘definitely something Mom would say’ saying, Thrash weights his options, but really, who else was he ever going to tell.

"I guess I'm just kinda sore about meeting new ex-Cons. Like Megatron was cool. Like really awesome. And Mom says that the other one, Thunderstorm — "

Mo giggles, "Thundercracker."

"Yeah him! She says he's not too bad either," Smiling down at her before it falls thinking back to this morning, "But these ones. Knockout. So not cool."

"Thrash, you did make fun of him." Mo frowns at him, a sprinkling of disappointment in her part of the bond.

"But it was a good joke!" Still not seeing how and why everyone got upset with him trying to break the tension, "Why didn't he laugh it out? He was joking the rest of the time."

Mo looks away, face scrunching up like it did when she was thinking before saying slowly, "Maybe what you joked about wasn't something he could."

"What does that mean?"

Folding her arms, Mo leans forward to rest them on her bent legs, "Well Dad always says there's so much more to Cybertron, but deep down it had a lot of the same problems Earth does. Maybe one of those problems effected Knockout in that way and it hurt him." 

"Hurt? Him? He was only afraid of being hurt when Mom threatened his paint job," Thrash huffs, rolling his eyes as he drops back against the barn wall, "And what's so important about it anyway that he got all mean about it?" That was the real problem. He didn't say anything rude, he just pointed out he had a flash paintjob. Jawbreaker had done it too and no one got mad at him. Granted it was hard to get mad at Jawbreaker.

"Maybe you should ask Dad. I'm sure he'll know."

"Yeah... Maybe." He lies, because he was still sore about this and didn't even really want to talk it over with Mo, but she was the one he was most comfortable with.

"Mo. Thrash," Looking up, he sees Mom walking in with a smile, the gloves sticking out of her as she pulls a couple of bills out of her wallet, "We're running low on hydrogen peroxide. Can you go get two gallons from town?" 

"Sure! You can count on us." Mo pops off the wall, taking the money and sticking it in her jacket, zipping it up and skipping out the barn.

"I'm really bring this baking party down aren't I?" Thrash huffs, pushing forward to stand, but Mom closes the distance to hold his face.

"No, you're just having a lot of big and difficult thoughts," She smooths her thumb over his cheek, "I think a leisurely ride with your sister will do you some good. Okay?"

"Okay," Feeling lighter that she wasn't still mad at him like she was earlier, "Will be back before you know it!" Standing tall and powerful, ready to peel out for a fun time, even if it was just a milk run.

Mom lifts a knowing brow at him, shaking her head, "I'm sure you will, but follow the speed limits young man," Then quieter, Mom steps closer, "And if you want to talk after, I'm here sweetie."

The sinking feeling came back instantly, but he didn't want Mom to know. It wasn't her fault.

"Sure Mom. Sure," Sweeping pass her, trying to ignore the sad face he knows she making, "Gotta go before the peanut gallery starts rioting!" He shouts as he exits, transforming as he goes, smiling to himself as his siblings starts chanting 'H2! O2!'. 

That's how it's supposed to be, Grinning, everything right with the world. And because it was Thrash thought both he and Mo deserved the wheelie he popped before leaving the property, with Mo buckled in first, safety first.

Really?! His engine snarls as he spies two very familiar cars in front of him. 

Well, more to his left and further back, but Thrash could still see them!

They were parked by the 'garage' part of the store, somehow getting two of the workers to come out and load something into Breakdown's trunk. But then Thrash remembers Mo and Robbie telling him and Twitch about some sickness that went around five years back and people needed to have stuff delivered to them to cut down on spreading the virus. 

He glares at them, waiting for them to notice him and hoping they won't either, which he doesn't understand why he'd want them to notice —

"Alright! I got the goods!" Mo shouts, hefting the two gallon jugs in the air, almost dropping them as she jumps back when Thrash revs and reverses, "What's wrong Thrash? Did I scare you?" She smiles mischeviously.

"Nothing! No!" He tells her quickly, but probably too quickly as she looks down at him suspiously.

He had been so focus on them, he missed Mo bouncing up to him and now she thought it was something else.

"Riiiight." Turning to look around the parking lot, ignoring him as he tries to get Mo's attention back before —

"Oh! Hi Mr. Knockout!" Mo waves, the red shimmery car turning and slowly rolls over to them as Thrash sinks back on his wheels.

Coming to a stop in the parking spot next to them, the left side mirror swivels, "Hello there Miss Mo."

Mo grins brightly and leans over his seat to place the two big bottle in his side car, "What are you doing here? I though you and your husband were going on a movie date."

"We are," Knockout sighs dramatically, resting on his suspense more, "but my Conjunx has a terrible taste for your oil and insist on having it to watch any film."

"That's just like me and liquriose," Mo laughs, "Not the Twizzlers, but the old candy. Robbie hates them, but I love having them for a movie. it reminds me of my Nana. She always had them at her house." She tells him brightly, the sport car humming before rocking slightly on his wheels and chuckling.

"I'm sure Breakdown will be thrilled to know he has allies in his continuing war of having ridculous treats." The both of them laughing now and it just makes something snap.

"Um! I'm here too." Thrash snaps.

Mo stops immediately and looks back to him, feeling embarrassed, upset, and a little annoyed with him! Which he doesn't understand, he wasn't the one ignoring everyone else!

"So you are," Knockout says lightly, "Just like the scout." Before backing up and turning around, telling Mo goodbye.

"Scout? Who's that?" 

Wedging her helmet on, Mo looks back to the two, "I think he means Bumblebee."

Like a surage of lightning through his cables, Thrash bounces on his wheels, feeling the best he had since everything earlier. Maybe the medic wasn't so bad.

"Heh! I am pretty cool." He rumbles softly as Mo gets in.

But his sister just grimances, "I don't know if it was a compliment Thrash." She tells him softly.

I knew I shouldn't have trust him! He quietly rages, feeling stupid for assuming the rude medic could be anything else, I mean who hates Bumblebee. He's Bumblebee!

"Well that feels more right," He grumbles and pulls out of his space, "Come on, lets go home."

And to add insult ot batter pride, some jerk has their high brights on when the sun is just starting to set.

"Ah hey! Can you turn your brights down!" He yells, slowing down and inching forward down the car packed lanes, "You don't even —"

In a rush Thrash is moving, Mo is screaming, and other people are too as the low honk of a truck blares loudly, taking up all of his senses, leaving Thrash unable to tell up from down. Even when he's dropped to the ground.

Looking up as the world still spins, Thrash is shocked to see Knockout transformed and standing in front of them.

"Get out and call for back up." He tells them seriously, moving slightly to his right, like he was sizing someone up.

"What?" Thrash shouts, still trying to understand what just happen, when he hears higher revs than Bumblebee behind him.

Turning, he sees two cars with their high brights on, but they both turn them off in-sync, Thrash able to see they're a dark red Porche with a single yellow racing stripe and a black Ferrai with red tinted windows before they transform too. They don't even seem to notice him and Mo as they start walking closer, and before Thrash can peel out with Mo to safety, a golden-yellow bot is thrown between them, crashing into an SUV as more people in the parking lot start to scream louder - Mo's fear just as loud and getting louder, but they're trapped!

"Frag." Knockout hisses, pulling a silver staff from subspace and holding it in front of him.

"You're not goin' anywhere traitors." A deep voice bites out, and when Thrash turns them around he can't stop himself from gasping like Mo, fear flying back and forth between their bond like a horrible feedback loop.

Standing menacingly, even in a fully lit parking lot, was a huge bot that looked like Optimus but wider and all black and purple. And another difference was the gnarly cut that went from the left bottom side of his face up to over his nose, making his snarl ten times scarier.

"Stunticons." Mo breathes out and Thrash knows they're in trouble now.

"Hard to be tratiors if the war is over." Knockout calls out, walking all confident and cocky out in front of them, before leaning against his staff.

"He's got a point," The Ferrai chuckles evilly, "More like unfinished business!" He shouts, revving his engine loudly.

Pointing his staff at him, Knockout hums, "At least Wildrider gets it. I always hated you the least." He says, teasing the bot who snarls loudly at him, his engine going.

Wildrider sniffs and brings out a deadly hook with a chain attached, swinging it slowly, "Still got jokes."

"And you don't." Breakdown suddenly says as Knockout says the same thing, the two smiling at each other as the big blue Jeep walks up to stand on the other side of him.

And Thrash can only hope that all the talk Knockout did earlier about fighting pays off right now if it means it'll give him time to get Mo to safety.

It was really only luck – or maybe the Primes – that Knockout looked back when he did, wanting to make sure the two younglings made it out of the lot okay. In doing so, he spotted Motormaster at the entrance as he switched on his high brights and started his charge down the parking lot. 

Right towards the children!

Knockout was in motion before the thread had completed processing, driving up and drifting down the other lane and hurdling over to pick up the motorbike and his Human passenger, leaping to the other side and landing in a mostly empty part of the lot. The rumbling growl of failure has Knockout smirking as he turns around, only to see himself slowly be surrounded. But on the minor bright side, Knockout puts himself in the spotlight so the others focus on him and not Lady Malto's offspring. 

"Breakdown."

That detestable convoy calls their attention away from each other and their in-sync joke, glaring hatefully at him. And Knockout makes sure to make it worse by winking his way.

"Breakdown!" Turning from him to Breaks, trying to morph his face into something of compassion and failing spectacular, "You're coming back or we're making you come back," The convoy growls, "You know you're supposed to be with us. You need the gestalt."

"Wow," Knockout drawls, "Your orator skills got worse somehow. I didn't think it was possible." Tipping his prod back to try and subtly wave the children away.

"Shut your hinge," Drag Strip slurs, still trying to stabilize after being thrown by the only other muscle that used to be on their team, "You know it's not supposed to be use for that." Giving him a ghastly smirk that Knockout returns sharply.

"Cute. Petty. But cute."

"We're not doing this!" Breakdown bellows, stepping closer to him as he rolls his shoulders, pistons working and hissing air, "You don't want me back, you need me back!" Punching his right servo into his left, it dramatically changes into his hammer knuckleduster, "And I'm not going back to being pushed around again."

"I was hoping you'd say," Wildrider cackles, crouching, "The hexware is mine." 

"Don't call him that!" Breakdown shouts, transforming his other servo and rushing the Porche, catching the chain and holding it down and following it up with a punch.

The Human screaming starts up again, and seeing the only way out was through, Knockout turns to grab the children — 

"Eat water's cousin you freak!" Something exploding wetly on Dead End's faceplates.

Not giving up the chance, Knockout spins his prod, gathering the charge in the air and opens the contact points, digging it into his wet chassis. Electrified, the speedster is thrown back through two lanes of parked cars, and when the medic looks down, he sees that instead of running for safety the motorbike had already transformed with Miss Mo standing nearby, cheering happily.

This is what happens when you have an Autobot train them. Knockout rolls his optics as his sensor pick up heat signatures.

Ducking, Knockout pushes his left pede back and nudges the two back.

"Hey! We were helping!"

"Help by leaving!" He shouts back as he charges Drag Strip, swiping down as the other turns into a Chevy Viper and guns his engine.

He's quick, but Knockout had been caught in speedster fights since he was able to transform. Jumping off his hood, he drops as Drag Strip tries a flying tackle. But turning to face him has allows something heavy and hard to explode at his right in pain and then again, lighting up and down his spinal struct.

"Knockout!" Breakdown shouts, but his thundering steps get further away.

Pushing himself up, he can swear he can hear his internals rattling, "Well – Ah! – that wasn't fun."

"It was for me."

He's not even surprised as he turns around, but he is by the motorbike driving up behind the convoy, his prod being held across his seat.

"Well I hope it gets more fun," Smiling up at Motormaster as he glowers down at him, "Surprise."

And digitally connecting to his prod, Knockout uses the remaining charge in it to flow as the motorbike goes to try to trip the convoy, the extra 50,000 volts doing the trick.

"Wow. Did I do that?" The motorbike transforms with a jump in his step, grinning too wide at the fallen convoy.

"Not even close. I did," Snatching his weapon out of his servos, ignoring the 'Uh, you're welcome', "Now get out of here."

"Hey! I can help." He stands there stubbornly, but it’s undercut by him stomping his pede.

Dermas twisting down at the display, "You really —"

Throwing his prod away, he pulls out his double barrel plasma shotgun and fires twice, getting Dead End in both shoulders, his whip falling from his servos in a spray of energon and anguish. Turning back to the sparkling, he stares at the scene in wide-optiked shock.

"Go." 

Not waiting to see if he listened, Knockout runs back into the fray, picking up his prod and matching Drag Strip with his curved blades, blocking and dodging out of his way. Its a graceful thing, the dance they get pulled into by parrying, but Knockout knows how victory obsessed the Viper is, how thin-RAM he could get. All it took was fake fumbling one parry and stepping back, letting him lead the medic back into the row of cars and step up, getting the high ground and flipping the curved blades up and out of his servos after a well-aimed kick to the throat. Flipping his prod down, ready to shock him, the half-gauge does something even Knockout couldn't imagine.

He grabs the prod connectors.

"Really." He asks as he sees it dawn on the Drag Strip's faceplates.

Knockout almost felt bad for electrocuting him then, but only just, smiling as the Viper seizes as he's unable to let go as the high voltage runs through his system. After a klik he lets up, then remembers who he's dealing with and stabs him in the thigh and electrocutes him for good measure, grinning at the scream of pain that shorts out his vox.

"What was that? I can't hear you," Knockout taunts as he bends at the hips, watching the smoking husk groan helpless, "Oh, that's right. You don't have anything to say. Moron." Scoffing as he turns to —

"Wow. Double tap."

Spinning on his pedes to the young femme voice, Knockout almost can't believe that they're still here, Miss Mo hiding partially under a SUV and the motorbike crouch right by it. But with Lady Malto as an example and the scout as a teacher it should have crossed his processor.

"You guys are ... uh... really violent." The motorbike stares at him again before his gaze falls to Drag Strip then away.

"If only you knew," Loosing what little patience he had, "Now, I'm sure I told you to go and I'm not in the habit of repeating myself." Both of them looking chastised, but that didn't mean anything until they left.

And low and behold, they don't leave as Miss Mo crawls out from under the vehicle, waving her phone, "We couldn't until we called for help. Mr. Optimus and Megatron are on their way!"

Anything he was going to say stalls at that news and Knockout can't help asking, "Were they together?"

Miss Mo's expression scrunches up as the motorbike asks 'why', scoffing when Knockout holds up his servo to him so he could hear her answer.

"Yeah," She shrugs, "Megatron was close by, I heard him over the call."

I knew it! It wasn't hard to see if someone had working optics and didn't have a pipe up their aft, but still! Undeniable proof to use!

"Why is that impo— AAAAHHHHH!!!" Jerking back in terror and it's the only warning he gets before something heavy slams into him and Knockout goes flying over the row of cars into another one, none of them breaking his fall.

Grunting, he pushes up and sees a familiar navy, "I thought it was a comforting weight," Getting up, but waving off Breakdown's help, "I expect an extra buffering after this."

And turning to face Motormaster sees behind him Wildrider tied up in his chain and the hook, the SIC glowing pink from where it was embedded deep in his left shoulder. 

"Don't worry Knocks," Breakdown vents roughly, sending a soothing cool over the bond, "We're going to be done with them after this."

Knockout can only spare him a glance and a soft squeeze through the bond before he's moving. Lunging over the last of the upright cars, he distracts Motormaster as Breakdown starts launching cars at his former leader. After two connect he roars in anger and pulls out his red energon sword, slicing the next one into molten halves.

That's my cue.

Sprinting back, Knockout jumps off the closest overturned car and lands on his back, quickly scrambling up to his shoulders as he swings back and then forward, trying to get him and stop the cars flying his way. Seated, Knockout gets his prod under the convoy's helm, locks his structs, and pulls back, unbalancing Motormaster just enough that Knockout can sway the mech into each punishing blow Breakdown starts to dole out.

But there was always going to be a time limit on this move, and after five Motormaster catches Breakdown's fist and throws him away. Flipping back off the mech, Knockout darts forward and goes for his spinal strut, but he turns in a half transformation and slices cleanly through it! 

Jumping back, Knockout tries to right himself, but the ground beneath him shakes terribly and shift his gyroscope eastward. Finally stabilizing, Knockout finds himself staring up at the small island of cement Motormaster had ripped from the parking lot, lifted above his helm and definitely for the medic. But before he could even move something slams into him again, grinding his gears at being shoved and thrown so much this evening, until he looks back and sees who had hit him this time.

"NO!"

Just making out Breakdown's navy and silver form in the rubble and dust as he staggers up, rage primes his claws, and Knockout scanning viciously for that chop-shop convoy.

Only he gets to him first.

Like any convoy, Motormaster picks up speed and rams him back, transforming mid-flight and slamming him into the superstore structure, the cement and plaster screeching horrifically at his back, the building itself whining in a concerning way.

"It ends here!" He roars in faceplates, slamming him into the edifice again, pieces crumbling at their pedes.

"Does it?" Straining again the single servo holding his shoulder to the wall, "You all are pretty banged up. And without a medic, how far — AUGH!" His spinal structure seizing as he's slammed into the wall again then dropped.

"Shut up!" Hunching over him and grasping his arms and shaking him, "All you do is talk and tease."

Primus and Alchemist, did Knockout hate hearing that excuse.

"Part of my charm." He snaps, grinning in the face of this hulking danger.

He could be belittled, but he wouldn't cower.

"Part of your coding," The convoy bites out with a nasty knowing sneer, making a show of moving his servos to his hips, "You're nothing but a plugin."

"Let-let go!" 

"No."

The flat tone like a door slamming shut as his servos move to hold the whole of his chassis and starts to squeeze. While a Cybertronian could never be choked out, they very well could have their insides crushed to the Pit!

"Really!" Knockout shrieks, scrambling at the heavy plates servos holding him down and pushing intolerably in, "Why?"

But for some reason that stops him, and looking up, 

"Everything." Motormaster hisses violently, optics blazing wildly, only giving Knockout a nanokilk to understand that the convoy thought he was about everything else and not voicing his shock at his choice in murder options.

"You took him away. Made him think he could mean something, but he was just dragged down and out by some buffered out loose buymech. A worthless. Piece. Of hexware!"

The roar silences the whole area, the bass of it rattling parts inside of him that Knockout can already feel are loose, if he wasn’t already getting the alerts. But none of it compares to the obsessive glare fixed on Motormaster's faceplates as he leans in closer.

"And he didn't even have the decency to share."

Even dying, the scent of rich energon and oil spilling over and the shock of fear is muddled in unbridled anger, because this will not be the last thing before he goes out!

"Last I check," Gripping the edges of the plated servos, Knockout leverages himself up as much as he can, "I get a choice in what I do." 

"Ha!" Throwing his head back in laughter, Motormaster sneers down at him, "Your kind never had and won't."

"And yet I have more than you."

THWAACK!

Looking away confusion, Knockout digs his extended claws under the plating and pulls! Snatching his servos back, Knockout goes just for the convoy's right wrist as Motormaster tries to escape. Stumbling back, Knockout has to grip the dented wall for support, quickly clearing his alerts across his HUD and self-administrating pain patches and an accelerant. Gasping at the rush of coolness over him, Knockout turns to see the motorbike standing off to the side, holding his shield of a wheel out with his meanest glower.

"He asked you to let go." He says with an air of steel.

Standing to his full height, focused on the youngling, Knockout picks up a chunk of wall and throws it, nailing Motormaster in the helm, "Keep him busy!"

He doesn't need to be told twice as he flips and jumps of overturned cars and out of the way, too quick for the convoy. It gives Knockout more than enough time to pull his shotgun out of subspace and not accidently yank out part of his cables.

"Are you really going to play with a sparkling!" Getting the mech's attention again, the bike smart enough to leave the scene, "I thought you had a thing for me."

Huffing, Motormaster lumbers forward, servos slick with energon, "I'd have fun with you, but Breakdown is more important."

"Any other time I'd be hurt," Knockout demurs before spiraling his optics wide for the haunting look he knows he makes, "but you're right. Breakdown's worth it. And he's not going back with you."

Swinging up, he fires at his right arm and runs at the convoy. Its unbalanced and dangerous, but he was ending this now!

Close enough to swing as Motormaster holds his arm, Knockout dodges out of the way of a backhand and ramps the butt of his shotgun into the inside ball joint of his left knee, knowing how faulty it was, even after all the work the medic did on it. Dropping to his knees and suddenly level with him, Knockout drops his blaster and grips under the convoy's chassis, and with his medic encoded torque, pulls. 

His roars are strangled as Knockout yanks the cables he had a hold on up through some of the transformation seams, it turning into a pitiful whine worthy of him as Knockout twists them. Leaning in close, as he gives one more good tug, he whispers into the convoy's audial,

"Did you forget who your medic was," Dropping the gory rope mess and picking up his blaster, sending his helm snapping back with a satisfying crack, the convoy falling over in a slump, "Because I didn't." 

Stepping a pede back is all the energy he has as he starts to stumble, if not for sudden support to his left. Looking down, he finds the motorbike - Thrash - holding him up, even as sparkling looks squeamishly at the energon on Knockout's finish and his own servos.

"And that, youngling," Calling his attention and huffing at how swiftly he looks up, "is how I used to fight Autobots."

"Noted!" His voice wavering between awe and fear.

Good. Just like I like it.

Inclining his helm, finally getting his point across, Knockout turns and slowly starts his way over with Thrash to Breakdown. His lovable hunk of metal now coming around when all the fun is over. But he's glad he was now and not before. Knockout didn't want him to have to hear that from bots that used to be family, and if the medic was honest with himself, he didn't want Breakdown to second guess himself. Even if he knew it in his spark that Breaks wouldn't, the fear and shame never truly goes away.

But as he hears the sound of a copter pushing it's limits and sees a red and blue convoy barreling down the street towards them it's as if any nitrous in his tubes runs its course and he goes down, the darkness taking him before he can hit the pavement and see his own self-inflicted damage on himself.