Mirrorverse!TFP fic [Optimus Prime & Knock Out]

[greedyslayer]

Title: that little tic

Fandom: Transformers Prime

Summary: Mirrorverse AU. Optimus Prime is intrigued by Megatron's medic.

Warning(s): Violence, noncon implications, Mirror!Optimus' mind generally being a bad place to be

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Transformers Prime.

 Optimus Prime has always remembered the first time he'd met whom would become Megatron's chief medic.

###

The fighting was pure chaos. The Prime coding demanded it gone. Optimus focused it only on the Decepticons. He enjoyed this, the brutal cut down; it was living up to his ultimate function. This is what Primes were for. To destroy chaos. To destroy.

And it reminded him of Megatron.

Optimus sliced through another, his red optics becoming an orderly blankness, an ordered silence. That was pierced by an emotional shriek, and Optimus turned at the sound--and was startled by the sudden close proximity of a ravaged Decepticon. Optimus could barely see that his finish was red and his face white, and that he was younger than he, smaller too. Dirt and grit marred his body, gouges and cuts ran up it, Energon bloodied him. Rage and grief and bloodlust warped his black-and-red eyes. The electricity arcing up his prod threw crackling light over him.

The Prime was struck by a very foreign thought: what a lovely quick little creature.

The one he would later learn was Knock Out had managed to cut off his half-mask. He paid the younger Cybertronian in kind by punching a hole in his chassis, savoring his agonized shout. Optimus did not like exposing his mouth. He would remember 'Con's insult, despite the fact that he managed to stir up his long hibernating sense of visual aesthetics. Optimus had planned to kill this 'Con, just as he had killed what was apparently a close comrade of his. But Knock Out had been very desperate to live and fight. Still, Optimus would've won out, if Megatron had not interfered.

And yet that red 'Con had stayed with his leader, helping where he could. Striking where he could. Optimus was intrigued again. And the two-on-one fight did make things somewhat difficult.

But then Ratchet had come. Took down the red 'Con. His doctor had moved in for the kill until Megatron yet again intervened. Two-against-one in his favor, Optimus remembered this being a close one. Ratchet and he could've killed his old friend. 

As such, Optimus had ordered a retreat. The Prime coding identified Megatron as particularly chaotic, but Optimus liked the sort of chaos Megatron embodied. How boring it would be to have it gone. And then he'd finally have to admit defeat--admit he could never bring Megatron to his way of thinking.

And so they left, and Optimus thought little of the red 'Con who'd managed a lucky shot in ripping his half-mask off. He'd assumed the younger Cybertronian had died of his wounds. Only occasionally would he bring up the memory, when he felt a certain urge. When he had the taste for aesthetic beauty. Optimus had grown to exclusively prefer pleasures of the mind. A Cybertronian manipulated here or there, a strategy birthed and nurtured. Physical pleasures only extended to battle, the slaying of chaotic life, the occasional interface with Ratchet and Elita-One. But it had been a long time since he'd simply appreciated the look of a thing. A visual aesthetic. That ravaged 'Con with the electric prod had stirred that long-slumbering fascination. And it remained the only thing to stir it.

The next time Optimus saw Knock Out, it was surveillance. Optimus had almost failed to recognize him, for he'd been clean, pristine. Orderly.

Optimus thought he wore chaos much better.

###

Slowly Knock Out very much became Megatron's medic, and Optimus was more intrigued. Perhaps it was petty, but it did not change the fact that Optimus rather wanted what Megatron had. There was some strategy to it; close allies of Megatron's had to be stopped. Picked at. Broken. For it wasn't just a logistic blow to Megatron--it would sting. Ache. Before when he was Orion and weak, he had wanted Megatron's joy and peace of mind; now as Optimus and Prime, he longed to see his old friend suffer. (Chaos must be hounded.) 

Soundwave, Starscream, Breakdown, Knock Out--Optimus focused more on them as they grew closer to Megatron. And though they had different qualities of import to Optimus, Knock Out was still the most aesthetically appealing of them.

###

The Prime regarded the bound Decepticons--Knock Out, whom Optimus now knew was a medic, and Breakdown, last of the Combaticon unit.

"This one, for your studies, Ratchet--you were curious about the combiner function of the Combaticons, weren't you--?"

"Very," his doctor said in a soft voice, and Optimus savored the strain on Knock Out's face as he struggled to quell his visible fear, the sudden panic in his eyes; even just the way Breakdown's eyes narrowed at the commentary. Megatron had found a fine warrior. His old friend had always been good at that.

"And this one?" Ratchet asked with a lazy glance to Knock Out. "Execution? The less fully trained medics Megatron has, the better."

But Optimus savored it even more when Knock Out managed to completely smooth out his face, make his face utterly if stiffly blank once Optimus was close enough to lay a large hand on his shoulder. Even savored Breakdown's jaw clench, the glare entering his eyes.

"I won't deny you have a point, old friend--but this one is too exotic, I think." Optimus began to stroke Knock Out's chin, and he was further pleased when the 'Con kept his blank composure up. How distant his optics grew. How dead.

"Don't touch him--!" Breakdown finally snarled, fighting against his restraints. Optimus smirked behind his mask, but he noticed a flash of irritation ripple across Ratchet's face, before fading back into a neutral composure. How interesting. Optimus was fully aware of Ratchet's devotion--always so useful--but he'd never thought such jealousy would stir in the old 'Bot. This could be useful too. Another button of Ratchet's to press.

"If not for certain research--bit of an archivist still at heart--I would think you were once of the Companion caste...." Optimus grazed a white cheek. Knock Out did not flinch. Just stared straight ahead, unseeing. Had he driven the younger Cybertronian to catatonia? On the one hand, it was a rather interesting thought. But Optimus was tired of this new type of order in Knock Out. He wanted chaos back. (He liked crushing chaos, and let it come up for air, before repeating the whole process again.)

"If you--!" Breakdown shouted, his rage mounting, and he grew more interesting. More alive. Chaotic.

"If your friend were to comply, I might consider letting you go," he said, dropping Knock Out's chin and turning toward Breakdown.

In a reflected surface, Optimus saw Ratchet's frown deepen. His smile widened. It widened further when Knock Out snapped out of it, eyes large, mouth slightly agape.

"Don't listen to him!" Breakdown barked at Knock Out, but the medic's red-and-black gaze darted to Optimus', and the Prime made sure to hold those eyes. Such lovely eyes. 

"I...." Knock Out's voice was low.

Prime's comm clicked. A lesser 'Bot might've been annoyed, but Optimus quickly thought while he listened to the message, and thought another opportunity had shown up. Another mindgame to play. He still valued those over aesthetic pleasure.

"I must go, Ratchet." Optimus nodded to the two Decepticons. "Do what you want with them--"

Literal permission that his doctor would understand.

"--but I will be speaking with them later."

Leave them intact.

Optimus checked to make sure surveillance was running.

The recording was interesting. As expected, Ratchet had been irritated enough. The doctor had made Knock Out scream after Optimus had given him permission too. (Optimus found that the medic's voice even had a particular aesthetic to it.) 

And Optimus had wanted to know how far Breakdown could be pushed. Interesting, very interesting--Breakdown had managed to break out of his restraints, fueled seemingly only be rage and Knock Out's agonized shrieks. Ratchet had been caught off guard. Breakdown had immediately fled with the medic, thinking only of bringing him to safety, rather than finishing Ratchet off. Optimus had expected that too, if Breakdown had been able to break out; if he could help it, Optimus would not necessarily put Ratchet's life under such a clear threat.

Optimus noted bonds needed to be strengthened, how far Breakdown would go when Knock Out was in peril, and how jealous Ratchet could become. All in all, very informative. And Optimus still entertained the occasional recollection of Knock Out's ravaged form, his dead expression, his screams. Everyone had their little fantasies, their little tics and temptations, did they not?

###

"A worthy vehicular mode for someone of your aesthetic, Knock Out," Optimus calmly said as he rolled up beside the medic before the human museum.

The younger Cybertronian's engine instinctively whined, and Optimus' own engine responed before he could really think, giving out a low rumble, a purr.

There was a chase, later. Knock Out bore some human. Optimus knew he was trying to get out of range of the jamming signal, so that the Nemesis' groundbridge signal could actually get through.

Knock Out was fast, delightfully so--but Optimus wasn't exactly slow, even with the truck alt he had chosen.

He rammed the smaller Cybertronian off the road, yanked him up by the trunk, tore off his door. Savored the pained shout. Drank in the sight of the dirt marring his features, the torn metal.

There was a shout that wasn't Knock Out's. A thin human one. 

Knock Out broke away with a transformation, protectively holding a dark-haired human female in one arm while he brandished his buzzsaw.

And Optimus Prime remembered the first time he'd met whom would become Megatron's chief medic.

A/N: Something about that ending line creeps me out, as if this whole fic didn't already. And part of this was inspired by Bruce Timm's Justice League cartoon..