Street Racer Darling[S] ::Knockout x Cybertronian Reader::

Battle Plans

~(Y/D)'s POV~

         "There you go," I giggled as the sparkling was laid down in the crib in one of the vehicon nursery rooms, empty of sparklings for quite awhile now. The mechling recharged soundly, squeaking in his recharge from time to time. I felt my spark reach for his own from inside my chamber. It was the oddest feeling, but I loved it. I felt the smooth servos of my lover wrap around my waist from behind, and my smile widened.

         "What shall we call him?" I questioned. I don't even remember if we had decided on a name for our past sparkling.

         "What about," he thought for a second, "Strykeout."

Strykeout... I like it.

         "Yeah," I nodded, "Strykeout's perfect."

Raf came in, saying that he and Ravage would watch over Strykeout while we were trying to take care of the most recent problem, that being Unicron. I double checked that everything was okay before we left, being reassured several times by Raf before I finally left with a snickering Knockout. I punched him in his arm before coming back out of the Nemesis. The group looked to us, all looking a little spooked.

         "What's wrong?" I questioned.

         "They freaked out because I suddenly showed up."

         "DAD!" I cheered, and quickly picked him up from the metal ground, "You came earlier then I thought you would."

         "Well, I said a few hours, but I managed to get a few things done a bit faster than I thought."

I let him hug my faceplate, then put him back down on the metal ground. He sighed, digging at it with his foot.

         "Been awhile since I been here." he chuckled, "I'm Scythe," he introduced himself to the Autobots and neutrals who didn't know him, "(Y/D)'s Sire."

There was a moment or two of silence, and I began to laugh at the astonished and confused faces of the mechs and femmes in front of me. Knockout joined with a few short chuckles of his own.

         "Hold on..." Ratchet tried to make sense of it, "You're father, is a cyber-organic?"

I nodded.

         "Created by Shockwave," he smiled, an amount of pride held in his gate, "Left Cybertron before he could offline me after refusing to follow orders, found love, and you can guess the rest."

         "Then... Roman and (Y/D)..." the older medic thought out loud.

         "Roman inherited a spark while (Y/D) inherited a processor," Scythe shrugged, "Though (Y/D) seems to have been granted the life of a true Cybertronian."

I smiled down at him, and he gave me a soft, fatherly smile back. I love him.

     We talked well into the later hours, Raf having to come out and ask for extra energon for Strykeout. We told my Sire of Shockwave's new Predacons, Predaking and Megatron's body being used as Unicron's puppet. He didn't like that fact, and drilled me with worried questions when he was told that I was the one who more or less was first to face the demonized war lord. I assured him I was fine, and so was Strykeout.

         "Is my size going to be a problem if we're attacked or have to move to a new location?" Scythe questioned, looking up to the group that surrounded him, that being just about everyone except the vehicons and seeker drones.

         "I wouldn't think so," I answered, "As long as you stay close."

         "Then he'll be squished under-pede." Ratchet grumped, "He'll have to stay on someone's shoulder, like the kids usually would."

         "Nastalgia's a glitch sometimes," Scythe chuckled, "That won't be necessary, I have my own Alt."

         "Your own Alt.?" Ratchet huffed, I was starting to think they would have been good chums at one point with how argumentative they are, "Your human flesh would have to tear apart, and what vehicle would you be able to transform into?"

         "Ratchet, trust him," Bee advised, "Right now Scythe is the only one who can lead us directly to Shockwave."

         "And no one finds his relation to him the least bit suspicious?!"

         "Hey," I growled, "That's my grand-sire you're talking about."

         "One more reason to worry!"

He was getting on my circuits, so I looked to Scythe, who was tapping his foot rapidly on the metal table he stood on, becoming irritated. His arms were crossed, and brow furrowed as he waited for Ratchet to finish his argument. I could tell he was holding back his own anger, and was doing a darn good job of it too. Ratchet finally finished after another minute, and my Sire took a long breath.

         "I see your concern, but my only function anymore is to protect what I have left," he stated with a calm confidence, "I was an assassin before, I take similar jobs on the side on Earth, but why would I destroy the things MY own creations love so dearly?"

Ratchet hung his helm in shame, seeing his error, and became silent as we began to discuss where to go from this point on.

     Scythe later took the spot on my shoulder, wanting a better look at the holographic map Soundwave and Raf had pulled together for us. He pointed to a structure that looked over all abandoned, saying that this was the only lab that was in working order at that moment. Smokescreen questioned him on how he knew this if he wasn't even there, and my Sire simply shrugged, saying that he felt it in his spark. Apparently Shockwave gave Scythe more than simply part of his own living metal, but also part of his own spark...

         "He wasn't always so emotionless," Scythe shrugged, "He gave me the part of his spark that allowed emotion, wanting it gone."

The others simply nodded, not about to go even further into any sort of argument, again.

     We had some time to situate ourselves, and Dad met Raf and Strykeout, who wouldn't fall back into recharge despite Raf's rocking, and feeding, as well as a lullaby. Strykeout found Scythe very interesting as he poked at him, and my dad chuckled, finding the actions to be quite adorable. We talked for a time, and Dad began to complain about who he was working with. Currently it was a British mafia who needed him for paperwork purposes, and he wasn't one to give in to paperwork so easily.

         "They were offering fifty million, but I bumped it up to eighty million. I'd rather be in the field than doing paper work, but when money calls, I usually answer."

         "Oh like you're hurting for money," I huffed.

Our conversation was interrupted by a transmission from the computers, to which we were all surprised. Ratchet rushed to them, hoping it was Optimus. To my relief, and Dad's, it was Roman.