//------------------------------// // Part 10: Moments of Reflection // Story: Equestria Girls: Transformation // by The Bricklayer //------------------------------// “So, the Big Boss go and chew you out for not capturing those kids and the Predacons when you had the chance?” a very bored sounding tone commented from behind Knock Out, as he looked up from his workstation in the medical bay. Knock Out sighed to himself, just what he needed today. “Or worst still, scratch your finish?” “You have any legitimate reason to come bother me today, or are you just going out of your way your way to be annoying, Steeljaw?” Knock Out drawled. “Because, if it’s the latter, you can kindly go and just bugger on off,” “Just wanted to talk, wanted Con to wanted Con, that’s all,” the massive aqua Transformer replied in return, absentmindedly filing away at his claws. “Is that not an acceptable excuse?” “Unlike you, Steeljaw,” Knock Out replied in a rather flat tone of voice, “I’ve only been framed for my crimes. You on the other hand, are a known serial killer. How many is it reckoned you’ve killed? 13? You’re pretty much the Cybertronian version of what the humans call the Night Stalker, only without the raping your victims part,” “Yes, that is a bit classless,” Steeljaw admitted, and Knock Out blanched and stared directly at the madman. Steeljaw rolled his optics. “What? Don’t give me that look, even I have standards!” “Doesn’t get you past that fact that you’re all too happy to kill someone even if they look at you the wrong way…” Knock Out muttered, flinching a little when he felt Steeljaw’s hands on his shoulder. “I’m not a maniac,” Steeljaw reassured. “Those bots, they got what they had coming to them,” Steeljaw continued, and Knock Out gave him a disgusted look. However, had he been bothering to listen even closer, his audio receptors might have picked up Steeljaw mumbling: “At least, that’s what I thought at the time...” “Keep making up excuses all you want, doesn’t change the fact that me, along with every other Con on this ship aside from the Boss and Flamewar are frightened enough of you to leak lubricant every time you even pass by,” “Can we please kindly not mention that bitch? She makes even me look tasteful. Hell, she makes even Pharma look tasteful for crying out loud!” Steeljaw growled out. “H-How do you know about Pharma?” Knock Out stuttered out in shock. “I’m not as stupid as the United Cybertronian Government, for one,” Steeljaw remarked. “For the record, I’m truly sorry for what happened to you, got completely railroaded. You had a good thing going, patching up both bot and con alike until… Well, you know.” “Yeah, I do…” Knock Out sighed sadly. “How’s that old Earth saying go?” Steeljaw asked himself. “Oh yes, now I remember. We feel free when we escape—even if it be but from the frying pan into the fire,” “Suppose you’re going to say, well into the fire then next right?” Knock Out asked. “Look, not out to get you. Trust me, if I was, you’d be dead on the floor in a pool of your own Energon already. I’d have sliced you to ribbons before you could blink. You know what they say about the best criminals? The police, they only know about the guys who get caught. The best ones, they never do,” “What does that make us then?” Knock Out asked with a bitter sounding laugh. “What else, but the second best?” Steeljaw replied, and Knock Out laughed again. “That’s quite true. Honestly, if I had a choice, I’d prefer Earth over Cybertron. Has this certain… Oh, I don’t know. What’s the phrase I’m looking for here?” “Je ne sais quoi?” Steeljaw answered. “Yes, that!” Knock Out replied, snapping his fingers in recognition. “Can’t quite put my finger on what exactly, but Earth, has this certain charm about it,” “It’s the automobiles, isn’t it?” Steeljaw asked flatly. “Believe me, I’ve taken notice of your interest. ...So has everyone else on the ship actually. Triggerhappy, Primus rest his spark, made a- “Remark about it? Yes, I noticed,” Knock Out replied flatly. “Mind you, I’m hardly mourning a nutball who’d shoot at anything that moves,” he deadpanned. “Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got to get back to my work,” Knock Out continued, gesturing to his operating table where a massive winged dark blue and yellow toned Predacon in his robot form -Darksteel to be exact- lay in a medically induced stasis lock. Knock Out wasn’t quite sure about what happened to him, though he had a feeling the electro-shock collar around his neck had something to do with it, the damned thing. Onslaught had thought it fit to place them around some of the more untrustworthy crewmembers just in case they got too out of hand. Steeljaw, Knock Out noted bore one as well. “Oh yes, I apologize,” Steeljaw sighed, in a tone of sympathy towards Darksteel. “Even if I don’t like that dumb brute, even he doesn’t-” “Go, now. I don’t like to be interrupted.” Knock Out said firmly, and Steeljaw took the hint and left the room. Knock Out sighed to himself, he perhaps would be forced to reevaluate his opinions on the Decepticon sometime soon. Perhaps. The sounds of feet hitting metal flooring filled his audio receptors, and the door opened once more. “Whoever it is, can’t you go away? Can’t you see I’m busy?” he asked, annoyed. “What, too busy for even me?” a familiar, deep baritone voice asked. Knock Out smiled slightly, and turned to see a very familiar bone-white Stunticon, with a red face and yellow optics. “Thought you didn’t like to come into my lab, the sight of another Con’s energon is… well, thought you saw it as more than a little bit eww shall we say?” Knock Out asked. “Call it, concern. Or paranoia,” Breakdown replied. “Both can go hand in hand really,” “That’s true, I suppose,” Knock Out admitted, rubbing his chin in thought. “Saw Steeljaw entering your lab, and smiling as he left. With a Mech like him aboard, can you blame me for checking up on you to make sure you hadn’t been ripped from chassis to spark casing?” “You would have felt it, as much as I appreciate the concern,” Knock Out replied, placing a hand on Breakdown’s torso plating. “We’re bonded, remember? If I go offline, you’d know.” “Yeah, I would…” Breakdown admitted, hanging his head. “Can’t fault me for concern though, you know right?” He was met with a kiss on the forehead. “And I love you for that, but you know perfectly well I can handle myself, right?” Knock Out then asked, switching one of his hands out for a buzz saw for just a few seconds to make his point. “Even if it means getting your precious paint job dinged up in the process, or worse?” Breakdown teased. “Yes, even if it means my paint job gets damaged, Primus forbid,” Knock Out replied with a small shudder. “But Steeljaw, dangerous as he is, I can handle him. Oh, you and your worry, endearing as it is, is going to drive me insane one of these cycles. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a drink at Maccadam's Old Oil House right now. Makes that exceptionally pure oil…” Knock Out added wistfully. “You remember the rumors right?” Breakdown asked curiously. “Oh, the ones about Maccadam being one of the original Thirteen in disguise? Alchemist Prime, was it?” Knock Out replied with a small laugh. “Yes, I’ve heard. I swear, Cybertronians will think up the wildest things at times. If Maccadam was indeed one of the original Thirteen, I suspect he would have put a stop to the Great War all those ages ago with all of his wisdom,” Knock Out trailed off. “Well, rumor has it that both Optimus Prime and Megatron met in the Oil House to create their treaty…” Breakdown trailed off. “Bah!” Knock Out scoffed. “Bots have too much time on their hands if you ask me, if they’re thinking up ludicrous rumors that one of the members of the Thirteen is hanging out in a bar! I’d love to know who started that anyways,” he muttered to himself as he went for a tube to pump energon into Darksteel’s currently inert form. The former physician sighed to himself. “He’ll have to be kept on life support for a bit now, Onslaught was really displeased with his failure to capture those Autobots sent after him…” “Yes, well, our dear leader has quite the temper,” Breakdown replied. “Likes to try and hide it, and for the most part he does it quite well, but where do you think Bruticus’s rage comes from whenever he was formed? Cold, calculating he may be, and quite the planner, but when all goes wrong, Primus only knows what’ll happen,” Breakdown shuddered. “And to think, we share the same ship with him!” “Hey, we share the same ship with our comrade Dead End, amongst a bunch of other nutballs, Need I get started on Swindle or Brawl?” “Point taken,” Breakdown admitted. “All we gotta do is stay out of Onslaught’s way, and our sparks are intact. Still, on Dead End, there may come a day when he’s not our partner anymore.” “What, you thinking of leaving the Stunticons? Striking out on your own like I did?” Knock Out asked. “Well, it’s a tempting thought. Personally, I want no part of this insanity,” Breakdown admitted. “And yet you tried to run down that human girl,” Knock Out pointed out. “Just wanted to give her a little scare, that’s all,” Breakdown replied. “In hindsight, had I known it would cause us so much trouble in the long run, I would have said, screw it, and just let her be! But back to Dead End. Just try and be nicer to him, okay? Er… for me? His mental state, he didn’t ask to turn out to be a Fatalist,” “Sorry,” Knock Out apologized. “Just his constant rumblings about how everything is pointless as we’re eventually going to join the big scrap heap in the sky sometime soon, probably within the next few cycles or so, it annoys me to no end, that’s all. Did you know his happy place is an abandoned car wash of all places? And that the reason he polishes his vehicle mode and washes himself is so that he looks his best when Armageddon strikes and Unicron rises from his grave to kill all?” the Decepticon Doctor ranted. “Well, he’s got a point there,” Breakdown remarked. “Nothing wrong with looking good, you of all bots should be able to sympathize with that right?” “...Why is it you always end up winning our little marital spats?” Knock Out sighed, his shoulders slumping to the side. Breakdown patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, offering no answer. “Actually, going back to Maccadam’s, I think it was Spacewarp of all Cons who started the rumor.” “Spacewarp, Spacewarp…” Breakdown mused. “Can’t say I remember the name, except for a few remarks about an interstellar explorer with a rather arrogant personality,” “That’d be her,” Knock Out confirmed, snapping his fingers one more in recognition before he continued work on Darksteel’s beaten frame. As he did so, he continued speaking. “Heard this rumor, she went a planet called Equus or something like that a few years back in human time, and took this parrot creature under her wing, and since then they’ve been exploring the galaxy and it’s many wonders. Least what I heard, don’t quote me on that,” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Breakdown replied with a small smile. Knock Out shoved him away with a small, slight push. “Now off with you, got serious body work to do here, and I can’t be disturbed!” Knock Out barked, and Breakdown nodded, saying nothing and walked right out leaving his husband to his work. Then, another bot walked in, tan in color and with dark purple optics. “Hey Knock Out, I can sell you a better buffing brush, if you just trade me that buzzsaw implement of yours! Promise, I can make Onslaught look the other way...” Swindle chimed in. At this, Knock Out’s temper finally blew. “OH FOR PRIMUS’S SAKE! HOW HARD IS IT FOR A CON TO GET WORK DONE AROUND HERE WITHOUT SOME SORT OF DISTURBANCE!?!” Back at the Autobase, life continued as normal. Well, normal as it got for this rag-tag bunch of misfits anyways. Trixie, as she and Lemon played a video game on a TV nearby, watched in interest as Swerve and Hound argued over… something. “No, I’m sorry, but that is the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard. I mean, seriously? You saw Prowl, in his office, singing or at least humming the theme from some old cop show drama?” Hound asked in disbelief, the Willys Jeep alt-moded Autobot shaking his head. “Trust me, Hound. The jazz music he was playing commonly denotes a cop show,” Swerve lifted a finger. “And besides, how many TV shows have you seen where cops fight crime without the jazz music following them?” “Fair point,” Hound admitted. “But you don’t have to be such a pain in the aft about it…” “I’m not a pain in the aft. Am I?” He asked. “Or at least, have I been before this little dispute?” “Let me ask every Autobot on the base, they’ll probably give me an answer,” Hound deadpanned. “There is no need for that,” Sugarcoat walked up to both of the Bots. “Swerve was just delivering the honest truth. It’s highly illogical to argue with him on those factors. Though I will admit, the fact that such a battle-hungry Bot like Prowl would be singing something like that boggles the mind…” “Great, she’s gone all Shockwave on us,” Hound muttered. “Never a boring day…” Trixie mused to herself. Nearby, Sunder bleeped out something in agreement. “See? She’s right!” Swerve put his hands on his hips. “So there’s no need for this hostility.” Hound rolled his optics, before walking off, datapad in hand. Trixie hopped off from the couch, and walked over. “Swerve, have to ask, what exactly do you do around here, aside from cracking jokes and delivering the latest gossip?” “Training to fight on the field, along with a bit of metallurgy.” He nodded, only for his gun to start laughing to itself. “What?! It’s true!” “Swerve, you couldn’t even hit one of your friends if you tried to,” said his gun, which was a stark white and resembled a little jet in some ways. “That’s why you have me, to say whether or not your shots hit anything at all.” “T-Thank you Phaser!” Swerve stammered out. “Embarrass me in public, why don’t you! Sure, tell them all about my horrible aim that makes Misfire look good!” “I thought the other bots would have taken notice by now,” Phaser sighed. “Maybe they need to take a look at their trainees more often,” “They do, they just don’t have a lot of time on their hands right now to train me up proper, what with Onslaught’s little foray to Earth and all,” Swerve remarked. “Not to mention Road Rage’s… condition shall we say,” Swerve replied, making a point of being delicate about it. “Speaking of which, Sugar, have Twilight and Perceptor managed to find a cure yet?” Lemon asked. “I’m starting to get worried about her…” “Is it because she turns into a hot rod, or is it because you care for her?” Swerve asked. “Either way, they’re not making much progress, between the fact that this is a totally new thing to them, and trying to figure out who on Onslaught’s crew manifest is a criminal, and who isn’t,” Sugarcoat gruffly crossed her arms. “If Principal Cinch were her, she would tell all of you to stop thinking those thoughts and focus on the task at hand,” She turned back to Lemon Zest, who had actually posed the question and was pending an answer. “But so far, we still aren’t making any progress. This is a very complex virus we’re dealing with,” “Righhhtttt. And she’s such a great role model, Cinch,” Lemon drawled. “She was our only role model before Cadence came in,” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “I know she was evil to the core, but we had to make do; especially if CPA made people into professionals ready for the world ahead.” “Stripping us of our emotions and our freedom in the process,” Lemon deadpanned. “How many times did you and Indigo try to prank and rebel before she shut you both down?” Sugarcoat asked. “I think my point stands firm, and that you were much too childish back in those days.” “Not all of us have the capability to actually think like machines,” Lemon deadpanned, before remembering who was in the room. “...No offense, Swerve.” The Autobot just waved her off dismissively. “I swear, one of those days, I’m gonna have to punch Lemon Zest in the face…” Sugarcoat’s eye twitched. “Heard that, and looking forward to the day you try! I’m a black belt, y’know!” Lemon chimed in before making some kung fu noises like she was Jackie Chan or someone. “Some bunch of friends you are…” Swerve muttered. “Girls! Stop it!” Hound barked, going into full drill sergeant mode and grabbed both Sugar and Lemon by the scruffs of their necks. “We’re supposed to save the world, not fight like babies,” He glared at both of them. “Now you can both behave, or we’ll just have to send you back to pre-school where you belong right about now. I bet Perceptor can come up with a weapon that’ll de-age you just for the purpose!” “Yes, Sergeant Hound…” Both of the girls groaned and obeyed, being let down in the process. “Good. Now get to work, or go have fun or whatever your human kids do,” He grumbled, rubbing his temples. “I swear, going to drive me into a migraine one of these days, mark my words. Teenagers. Like handling Sparklings at times. And I thought Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were bad enough…” “They’re still devoted to the mission, and that’s why Nova Prime finds good work for them,” Swerve nodded. “True enough. Now if only all our problems could be solved so easily,” he sighed sadly, looking down towards Feral Steel, who’d dropped his hologram and was walking about the base in his wolf mode, the spines on his back making him look particularly intimidating though anyone who ever met him knew this wasn’t the case and he’d hardly hurt a fly. “Shame about him. Damn shame,” Hound sighed. “What happened to him?” Trixie asked, curiously. “It’s a sad story really, burnt out his T-Cog from too much use of it,” Swerve sighed. “Least, what I heard. Reminds me of what happened to Tarn, now that I think of it. Mind you, that bastard at least deserved it,” he grumbled. “Well, can’t you just repair it?” Trixie asked. “Sadly, a Transformation Cog isn’t technology as you might think,” Hound put in. “It’s biology, in fact. It’s like one of your organs, you’d have to ask someone to donate another. As you can imagine, most Cybertronians aren’t exactly lining up to do such a thing,” he remarked with a bitter laugh. “So, it’s kinda like your heart?” Trixie raised a brow. “And if it’s gone, then you’re gone too?” “Well, it’s not that important. We can still function without a T-Cog, we just can’t transform,” Swerve replied. “And considering how important and ingrained transformation is in our culture…” “It’s like you’ve completely been stripped of who you are… that’s sad.” Trixie’s face fell at the sound. “How can you live without the power to transform?” “You’d be surprised, some parts of counterculture have sprouted up here and there,” Hound put in. “Like the hippie movement of your sixties, only with a different philosophy. They say we’ve become too reliant on our T-Cogs, and purposefully burn them out with all sorts of drugs,” “How does that work?!” Trixie’s eyes shrunk down to pinpricks. “Well, take a drug like Nuke. It’s really addictive, and basically makes you become a mindless beast. Tarn, leader of the infamous Decepticon Justice Division was quite fond of it, and overused it to the point, where as Swerve mentioned, burnt out his T-Cog,” Hound explained. “Doubt that’s what’s going on with these countercultures, just citing an example,” he rapidly explained, at Trixie’s expression. “Jesus Christ…” Trixie muttered. “Reminds me of Bane and his Venom addiction from the way you describe it,” she remarked. “One way of comparing it, I suppose,” Hound admitted. “If you want, I’d be happy to give you a full lesson on Autobot biology,” “Sure I won’t fall asleep during the lesson?” Trixie asked. “Cause I’m not exactly the world’s best student,” she admitted, with a tinge of shame in her tone. “Quite possibly why I was held back a grade,” She was suddenly brought into a deep hug by her girlfriend. “Hey, that’s why I’m around isn’t it?” Twilight asked softly, as Trixie blushed at such a public display of affection. “Here to give you a helping hand or two,” “And Trixie thanks you for that…” Trixie sighed, nibbling Twilight’s neck making her let out a small moan of pleasure in spite of herself. This time Twilight was the one blushing from the public display. “Oh, go get a room already, why don’t you?” Lemon joked. “You’re still here?” Hound tilted his head. “Sorry, just really interested in your little tale about Transformer Biology,” Lemon admitted. “And then the show happening in front of my eyes,” she teased, and both Trixie and Twilight let out little eeps and blushed bright red. “Lemon... I’ll even get Wheeljack to come right down from Cybertron itself if I have to and have him help make that de-ager if you keep teasing like this,” Hound grumbled, as he gritted his robotic teeth. “Geez,” Lemon sighed. “I was only making a joke. Lighten up will you?” “A joke isn’t funny if it’s embarrassing and humiliating,” Hound huffed and pointed his blaster. “Now, move along,” “Aww, leave the girl alone, Hound,” Chrysalis’s distinctive voice remarked, as she exited the elevator that led into the base. “Sorry, just thought I’d drop by. Was I gate-crashing anything interesting?” “Just me telling Lemon and Sugarcoat to calm down, before we invent age-regression with them as the guinea pigs,” Hound went towards Chrysalis. “Why do kids fight like this?” “Oh come on, surely you were a kid once, even as old as you are?” Chrysalis asked. “Besides, as cute as kids are—and I bet baby Lemon and baby Sugarcoat would be adorable, it’s a bit extreme, innit?” “We never had a childhood,” Hound shook his head. “We were just… built, and that was that.” “Funny that, I talked to a friend of mine, and she told me you had childhoods like anybody else. Well, sparklinghoods, but you get the point,” Chrysalis answered. Hound raised an eyebrow at the mention of this ‘friend’ but thought nothing more of it. “Yeah, Hound was just born like this I imagine. Grumpy as the Pit,” Swerve teased. “No wonder him and Prowl get along so well,” All of a sudden, alarms cut out through the base, as the crimson alarm klaxons started to flash. Everyone jumped at the noise and the Autobots charged in for their orders, leaving the humans chasing after. Prowl was already in the main command room, and brought up a satellite feed. “Okay, space station Argo, built by the Japanese, just spotted this. Keeping things quiet for now, but don’t know how long we have till the news breaks. Fowler’s keepings things hush for now, but we probably don’t have long.” On the screen, was a bunch of Vehicons breaking into a Japanese power plant, with a black Decepticon, feminine in form leading them, flames painted on her torso. Nearby, a massive midnight blue crow-like Robot observed the situation. “Flamewar…” Hound sighed. “Should have known she’d be tagging along for the ride. Odd though, she hates Predacons, so why is she teamed up with Filch?” “Maybe she’s controlling Filch,” Twilight looked closer at the screen, watching as the bird Predacon did barely anything. Just observed. “Sure, she might hate them, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t want to make them obey her, right?” “Yes,” Prowl confirmed. “Twilight’s right. Having a Predacon on your side, a good source of back-up. Either way, we can’t let them get away with any of that energy, they’d easily be able to convert it into Energon. Autobots, Transform and Roll Out!” he shouted, as he turned into his Police Car mode, and headed for the groundbridge. The others followed behind him, as Prowl seemed to look at Swerve. “Swerve, keep an eye on the kids. Till we know the suits are fully functional, don’t let them out of your sight okay?” “On it, boss!” Swerve saluted. Little did he notice Lemon, as everyone’s back was turned or transforming to vehicle mode, slip by...