Next up on the chopping block: dear doctor Knock Out! I had originally planned Starscream, but for some reason Knock Out just flowed more easily (which isn't really saying much since it took me for-fraggin'-ever to get this out). If any of you have read The Mark of Athena, you will notice that I borrowed one or two elements of Rick Riordan's interpretation of Nemesis. This takes place shortly after "Tunnel Vision/Triage". And if any of you are wondering about the Autobots . . . they'll get their visits soon enough.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers Prime

The Decepticon medic Knock Out stormed into his med-bay in a near incendiary temper. There was, of course, a reason for this, an exceptional one by Knock Out's standards. The grounder's normally immaculate red paint job was marred by deep, wide scratches and scrapes. Damn them, Knock Out thought viciously, damn those Autobots and their little fleshy pets to the Pit! And now, after everything he had been through (including getting hit by a slagging train!) he was being forced to repair Soundwave first even though the only damage HE had was a fragging cracked visor! So what if Soundwave had been the only one to return with a relic? It wasn't FAIR!

Grumbling quietly to himself, Knock Out began pulling out the required tools to seal the crack in Soundwave's visor, as well as the ones required to restore his finish to its former glory. Settling into the familiar preparation routine, Knock Out reached blindly behind him and asked;

"Hand me the paint stripper, would you, Breakdown? With damage this bad I'm going to have to redo the whole thing." The desired container was pressed into his servo, and Knock Out placed it on the table with his other materials. In the midst of counting and organizing said materials, Knock Out froze.

Breakdown was dead.

Breakdown could not have handed him that paint stripper. Slowly, very slowly Knock Out turned around.

He had been expecting Soundwave. The spymaster was freakishly good at sneaking up on others (though Knock Out supposed that was part of his unofficial job description). And the scarlet mech adamantly stamped down on the corner of his spark that so wanted it to be his oversized blue partner, standing beside him as if nothing had happened. But instead . . . instead . . .

Knock Out was not entirely sure what he should be more surprised by: the fact that the human woman was on the Nemesis in the first place, or that she was as tall as he was. Calm, vaguely amused gray eyes regarded him as he ran his optics up and down her form. If she wasn't a fleshy organic, Knock Out decided, she would be quite pretty.

"Have I passed your inspection, doctor?" The woman asked, raising an eyebrow. Knock Out allowed a smirk to grace his features. Wordplay. This he could do.

"Well that depends," he leered, "if you would allow yourself an . . . examination." The organic femme laughed and shook her head.

"Oh no doctor, I've heard far too many horror stories from your previous 'patients'. Besides, wouldn't you like to know exactly who is in your medbay?"

"I'm afraid that is information you will have to share with me, my dear."

"Oh come now," she purred, "You're a reasonably intelligent mech, Knock Out. I'm sure you have some sort of clue as to who I am."

The truth was Knock Out had no clue. But the femme was probably going to stand there until she got some sort of response so the medic racked his memory banks. Then, as if the memories had been pushed to the forefront of his mind, Knock Out remembered the time he and Breakdown had been sent on the quest for the Energon Harvester. After they had left the human museum, the two car-formers wondered what had made the fleshies deem that stone statue so important. It wasn't made of a rare material, and didn't seem exceptionally beautiful (then again, nothing humans made [barring automobiles, of course], was ever really attractive). So when the mission was over medic and assistant had done some research, and discovered the belief system of the ancient Greeks. And at that moment a possibility occurred to Knock Out, an idea that was so completely impossible, that it just might be true.

"You're an Olympian," he said, all the while feeling a strange desire to laugh. "One of the human gods." She smiled, and nodded.

"But-you can't- that's impossible!" Knock Out spluttered. "Gods don't exist! Those stories are just what humans dreamed up before they developed their primitive science!"

"Oh come now, Unicron can be sleeping in Earth's core, but human deities can't live on a mountaintop? That sounds awfully biased."

"I didn't expect Unicron to exist either."

"Even when his blood was brought forth and its properties demonstrated? My my, you are a close-minded one."

"Yes well, forgive me for having chosen a profession based in SCIENCE." Knock Out replied crabbily.

"Very well. You're forgiven." The cherry (although very scuffed) medic scowled at her and said;

"I think I've been looking for the answer to the wrong question. Regardless of who you are only one thing truly matters. Why are you here?" She answered as though it must have been obvious.

"Why, to offer my condolences, of course." Knock Out stiffened.

"I . . . don't know what you're talking about." he ground out.

"Of course you do. Several scales were balanced with Breakdown's death, as he sadly could not do so in life. And I would know. For I am Nemesis, goddess of retribution and the distributor of fortune. And you," she jabbed her finger at Knock Out's chestplate with a sense of growing ire, "You and your kind have brought war and imbalance, imbalance that I must correct." As Nemesis' gray eyes stared into Knock Out's red optics, her expression changed, becoming contemplative. "You mourn the death of your partner. But I must confess that I wonder . . . who do you blame for it?" And that was when any of doubts of her nature were dispelled.

Nemesis changed her shape, skin and clothing turning to obsidian metal, a pale face becoming porcelain, and organic eyes becoming purple, compound optics. In a matter of moments the human woman had vanished and in her place stood the spider-femme Airachnid.

"You harbor resentment for the assassin." she murmured "Understandable. But I sense there is more. Perhaps the mech who survived in Breakdown's place?" As Nemesis spoke Airachnid's form changed color and expanded, morphing into a facsimile of Dreadwing. She continued talking and shifting, naming several Autobots, Megatron, Silas, and even Breakdown himself. But the Aston Martin wasn't listening. Puzzle pieces were falling into place, forming a terrible picture in his mind; Nemesis knew that Airachnid had extinguished Breakdown's spark, knew that Megatron had sent him on that fatal mission, and knew that without Optimus Prime the war wouldn't exist in the first place, and Cybertron would be whole. But Breakdown didn't die on Cybertron. He died on Earth. And if it had happened on Earth . . .

That meant she had something to do with it.

Nemesis was taunting him, in her sick way, directing his anger at others when in reality she had done it all. Knock Out had no idea how, and at the moment he really didn't care. Red seeping into the corners of his vision, Knock Out seized his energon prod from subspace and stabbed at the goddess, only to have her slip away and out of reach.

"I don't care who held the blade!" The scarlet mech roared, "I don't care what the circumstances are! Because you did it, you made it happen, you. Killed. Him!" At that precise moment Knock Out felt all of the momentum in his arm stop as Nemesis caught his weapon. She stared for a moment, into his blazing red optics, and once again completely threw the Decepticon medic for a loop.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" she asked him. Knock Out didn't respond. He didn't need to. "But I suppose that's the point, isn't it? Breakdown has paid his debt, and in grief and humiliation, you have begun to pay yours. You see, I loathe arrogance as much as wrongdoing; and you, Knock Out, are one of the most arrogant beings I have ever met. Much of your punishment is still ahead of you. Whether it ends with your redemption or death, I cannot say." Nemesis smiled wryly, "But know you are not the only victim in my sights. It is my duty to affect all of those involved in your war. All of them," she emphasized, watching Knock Out's face carefully, "Human and Cybertronian." The medic's optic ridges raised slightly in understanding.

"So there's no bias towards your own species?" he said, smiling. She smiled back.

"None whatsoever." Knock Out's smile grew.

"Good."

Some time later

Knock Out left the medbay, handing off the remains of his . . . test subject to a nearby drone. In a way, he was almost disappointed to see it go. That little fleshy corpse represented one of the most satisfying experiments he had conducted in a long time. Though no doubt the crew thought him unhinged because of it, Knock Out found it difficult to stop smiling.

"I trust you found Silas' punishment satisfactory?" Knock Out wasn't surprised in the least to see a human-sized Nemesis perched on the desk in his quarters, waiting for him.

AndromedaAI: I'm glad you think so! ^_^

Copyright-Prime: Wow . . . thank you so much! I'm glad you think it's so good, and thanks for the advice about Megatron! :D