~(Y/N)'s POV~
"YOU'RE USELESS! JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER!"
Words. They're only words.
"I DO SO MUCH FOR THE BOTH OF YOU! AND WHAT DO I GET?! LAZY," It's only pain, "GOOD FOR NOTHING," that's all it is, "CREATURES!"
I was thrown into my room, a single tear in my new shirt, blood staining the once white cloth, crawling to my corner of dirty blankets and a single stuffed animal. Though to be honest, the belt didn't hurt as much as her words at the tender age of 3.
"You can stay in there, until you learn your place as the abomination you are."
That's all I am. That's all I ever was. But why was I this creature everyone seemed to hate? Mother was angry, father never showed, but somehow I know he loves me, I hear it in my mind. I constant chant of 'sorry' and 'I wish I could be there'. I don't know who this man I call father is, but I know he loves me. I feel it all the time. I think small little 'I love you's, and I get them in return, I tried it with Mom, but I don't get anything, so I resorted to showing it.
"Mommy! I have something for you!" I held a flower behind my back. I had been watching it grow for the past month. I watered it, kept it safe, until it was perfect, and bright yellow like Mom's pretty hair. I was 7.
"Is it the water I asked you to fetch?"
She turned from staring out at the trees, the garden table her favorite spot to drink what she called "medecine". It smelled nasty, and always came in an oddly shaped bottle.
"Well..."
"Have you even been by the lake yet?"
"Not yet... but-"
"But nothing, do your chores, then whatever useless thing you have can be dealt with."
Nodding, I claimed that it had been silly once my chore was done, and set the pretty yellow thing to rot in the compost pile. A simple message was heard in my mind as I closed the door to my room that night. I knew it to be my father, the man I never met. He said he thought the flower to be pretty, and that I should pick a blue one next time, it was his favorite color. So I did the next day, and put it in a vase on the floor.
Soon I was 11. Roman said I was old enough to know his secrets, and I tagged along on all his adventures, though it wasn't like I didn't before. Together we were escaping Mom, escaping life, and entering the world he had come to find on his own.
"This is Daver!" Roman said with great joy, "He works with his Dad at an automotive shop right?"
"Oh you know it! Come on! He just got a new Corvette!"
Thus, I was introduced to the world of machines, and found my small slice of heaven. Here, I found my family. No, it wasn't the workers, or the customers, it was the engines, the aerodynamic bodies of each horseless carriage, yet most I found had the power of 20 horses. Here is where I escaped with my brother, though the beatings worsened for our absence, we were numb by now, though our ears were still raw.
"YOU'RE ABOMINATIONS!"
We comforted each other, and told of our little fatherly messages, he got them too.
"YOU'RE NOTHING TO US!"
The messages said we were worth so much to him, and that she meant the human race. Roman and I didn't understand.
"YOU'RE THE PATCHWORK KIDS OF A FAILED HUMAN BEING!"
And then the messages stopped. I was only 12. A fragile petal that withered, and forgot about the messages, the little loving messages that proved my father loved me. And then the accident, the floundering, Buster, Tyson, the apartment, the race, the mystery driver.
"KNOCKOUT!"
I shot up from the warm bed I had been set on, old blankets covering my frame, holes dotted across it, yet I still managed to stay warm. Looking outside, it was sunny, no clouds obscuring the bright blue of the day. I heard quick moving feet, and the sliding of metal on wood. Then an unfamiliar face, but the voice was a welcome sound.
"It's fine," Roman soothed, his now metal body sitting on the edge of the bed, and hugged my shaking form, "It's okay, it's only a memory purge."
"Wh-where's your face?" I asked after a moment of figuring out where I was exactly.
"I downloaded a beta test, it only lasts half an hour."
I was glad his optics where naturally green, though hearing his voice, and not seeing a mouth to go with it was a little weird... My mind wandered as I wondered if Bee had a mouth.
"(Y/N)," I looked up at him, "You were thinking of Mom weren't you?"
I nodded, and felt that there was something more, but I couldn't seem to remember. I preferred not to anyway, it was better that way.
"Roman..."
"Yeah?"
"I... I miss Knockout..."
He hugged me tighter.
"I know," I felt his helm gently rest on my head, "You can go back, after we talk to Dad okay? He should be here very soon."
"You saw him... right?"
I felt him nod.
"So how come he never came to see me?"
Roman sighed, and pulled me away from him, gripping my shoulders the way he did when he was being serious.
"You must understand, that telling you, would have brought even more suffering than what you have gone through. If you knew what we were, many would have hunted us down already," I stared into his optics, finding nothing that showed that he was lying, "M.E.C.H. goes much farther back than Silas and his goons."
At this I understood, to a point. It was also interesting to find out just how far M.E.C.H. goes when it comes to it's history. I started to wonder just how old the division was.
"But... okay, can I at least give you my guess?"
He sighed, and rolled his optics, giving me that look of 'seriously?', and I laughed, nodding, which made him chuckle.
"Alright, fine, what's your guess?"
"Are we the offspring of some lost Prime from eons ago?" I bounced, hoping the answer to be 'yes'.
"First off: That's more like a question, not a guess. Second: As bad-aft as that sounds, no."
"Frag." I pouted.
(And the explanation is not found. >:) Not yet. Huehuehuehuehue! I be evil! Hope you guys like it so far! Thanks for sticking with me! Thanks for reading!)
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Street Racer Darling |:| Knockout X reader
Fanfiction(Y/N) sat down. Her day had been full of the impossible. Only one question remains: Is Knockout just grateful, or is there more to it? (TFP fanfiction. I don't own them, and you all own yourselves so.... yeah The first of two books. Want more? Look...
