ffffffffffuuuck
It was bound to happen eventually I only maim the ones I love
sdfhsdjkfsdf okay i had this idea after i saw this pic and couldn’t let it go DEAR ARTIST I HOPE YOU DON’T MIND I WROTE FIC TO THIS? sorrrrryyyyy.
But! Um, here!
Rated R for the obvious. Post-Crossfire. Knock Out and Airachnid face off - as you can see, things don’t go very well for Knock Out. Suggested/implied BD/KO and one-sided Breakdown/Airachnid.
Ugh, I feel this isn’t gory enough dsfhjsdfhdf.
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Stupid.
Stupidstupidstupid.
Knock Out wished he could bash his head into the wall. At this point, it didn’t matter if he ruined his pretty face. Considering he was only a goddamn torso with one arm now. At first, it horrified him - the treatment of his paint job, his sweet good looks and prim and proper, freshly waxed chassis. Then, of course, Knock Out sort of forgot about his wounded pride and focused on the fact that what started as mere cosmetic torture ended up with his arm being wrenched, twisted and then pulled off. That sort of distracted him from the more superficial nonsense.
Knock Out’s optics bulged from their black-pit sockets. He stared in utter horror at the remains of his body. Which was scattered in two separate places. One leg piled next to the other, with his groin still attached. Cords thick as intestines and thin as string rolled out from the giant gap where the rest of his body had once been. At first, they had gushed energon and lubricant, sparking and spitting little winks of electricity. Now, they lay settled and still in the thick mess of his lifefluids. What was left of Knock Out’s right arm was still bleeding, however, an ugly bone-rod sticking out alongside a few wires and circuits. His wonderful, miraculous paint job was ruined; stained in energon and the paint flecked away under deep-set claw marks tracing from his shoulders down the length of his chest.
This - all of this - was not the horrifying part, however. The fact he was mutilated and bleeding out was nowhere near as terrifying.
The most frightening, morbid part of the entire gory fiasco was the fact it only took Airachnid less than five minutes to inflict this much damage.
Five. Fucking. Minutes. Stupidstupidstupid.
“You know, despite everything, I have to give you credit for your bravery.”
Airachnid approached her former comrade. “Though, you know, your stupidity and egotism outweigh your courageous but childish attempt at petty revenge.” She squatted in front of Knock Out, propped up against the cave wall. She was smiling, just as she had been the entire time she ripped the Decepticon apart. “I will not deny that you are a worthy opponent.” The corner of her smirk quirked. “To a novice, perhaps. But did you really think you could take on me and leave victorious?” The spider-femme reached out, her claws gripping the edge of Knock Out’s chin. He scowled but could not turn his head away. “I have spent my entire life hunting down the most deadly and dangerous of predators. I would have shown you my trophies, if Arcee hadn’t blown my ship sky-high. I am a skilled hunter; I am a more experienced warrior than you will ever be in ten sparklives.” She tapped her thumb patronizingly on his face. “To an Autobot, you’re a handful, a troublemaker. But to me, you might as well be a fly.”