#if you want a full explanation of my headcanon of the stunticon team and breakdown's relationship to them

[roseymoseyberry]

Samsara (3/?)

Heyo, time for chapter 3, aka a little bit more insight into how I had to fill in the gaps in Breakdown’s backstory and the Stunticons in general, lmao.

Thanks again y’all for reading this wild ride and I hope you enjoy! And for folks who may not watch RID15, the race mentioned in this chapter is from the episode Disordered Personalities. You don’t really need to know much beyond the stunticons joined it hoping to cement their title as Rulers of the Road (because they’re literally written dumb enough as to believe winning a race would do that) and the Autobots went to stop them from destroying the other racers. So they lost and it’s implied that Motormaster pulled a Megatron and physically punished them for it.

Title: Samsara

Series: RID15 and TFP (and some tidbits grabbed from Aligned wiki pages)

Ship(s): Wildbreak/Knockout, Breakdown/Knockout

Tags/warnings: Reincarnation AU, hurt/comfort, verbal/physical abuse (though the worst of the physical abuse is barely described or off screen), past character death, age difference (but still consenting adult alien robots), a lot of filling in worldbuilding gaps and making shit up, and a lot of Wildbreak being a sweet boy who just needs some love and affection.

Fic Summary:

From the day he was forged, Wildbreak had felt like there was something missing; some motivation or drive or desire that had been left behind in the Allspark.

Something he should know but didn’t.

|Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|

“About time you woke up.”

Bumblebee’s frame jolted online as he sat up, staring wide-opticked up at where Knockout was leaned against a shelf of scrap metal and watching him.

“Knockout?! What’re you--?”

“I have a favor to ask,” Knockout stated.

“And it couldn’t wait?” Bumblebee grumbled as he moved to stand. He was going to have to have a talk with his team about warning him when they had company.

Knockout gave him an unimpressed look.

“You want help with your Stunticon problem, don’t you?”

Bumblebee’s arms stilled where he had stretched them over his helm, blinking at Knockout. “You decided to join the team after all?”

“Of course not. I told you, I’m not much of a team player these days when I can help it,” Knockout replied.

“Then…?”

“I’ve been spending some time with one of them.”

“You—wait, you’ve been doing what?!” Panicked, Bumblebee continued, “You’re not gonna join them, are you?”

With a snort, Knockout shook his head. “As much as I don’t want you ordering me around, the idea of Motormaster trying it is even worse. He’s a brute and a moron who only knows how to motivate with his fists. It’s no coincidence he had to remake his team by snatching up a bunch of new forged.”

That was all news to Bumblebee. He didn’t know about any Motormaster, let alone-- “How new?”

“Post-war.”

Bumblebee winced.

But before he could comment, Knockout pushed off his perch and stalked towards him. “And that’s why, when I finally convince this kid to leave the Stunticons, you’re going to pardon him and accept him into the Autobot fold without any problems.”

Bumblebee sighed as he braced his servos on his hips.

“They’re criminals, Knockout. I can’t just waive that.”

“You did for that dinobot,” Knockout argued. He was nearly chest-to-chest with Bumblebee now, unwilling to give an inch.

“Grimlock is a special case. He proved himself to be trustworthy.”

“No. Grimlock is special because you like him.”

“He’s a good mech--”

“—And so is Wildbreak.”

With a huff, Bumblebee stepped back and paced away, and of course he heard Knockout’s pedesteps following behind. “Knockout--”

“You want to put an end to the Stunticons, don’t you?”

That brought Bumblebee up short. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, and Knockout lips barely curled enough to be called a smirk, but it was there. “If you really want to ruin their plans, I can’t think of a better way than getting one of them to defect and thus depriving them of two combiner forms.”

“Two? Can he combine with one of the other ones too?”

The smirk grew.

“I can’t believe the Autobots are still so behind when it comes to understanding combiners,” Knockout said, strolling closer, looking every part like the Con he once was. “You don’t honestly think that if your lot could fuse together by sheer accident that a team led by Motormaster, a mech who has been combining for millennia, would be limited to just combining in pairs, do you?” Genuine fear started to spark in Bumblebee’s processor as realization of what Knockout was suggesting settled.

“All of them?”

“Menasor was never as successful a combiner as Devastator, no doubt because Motormaster was never as good a leader as Scrapper, but you still wouldn’t want to meet him on a battlefield,” Knockout continued, examining his claws lazily, as if he wasn’t discussing the former army’s deadliest soldiers and weapons. “Motormaster has only had this team for a little over a decade, so I can’t imagine they’re as good as his previous teams, but that’s more than enough time for them to learn to form Menasor and control him. Certainly enough time to cause your team some serious problems.”

Bumblebee’s engine growled in his chest as he snapped, “Why the frag didn’t you tell me any of that before?!”

Knockout shrugged, looking victorious already. “You didn’t ask.”

“I asked for your help!”

“No. You ordered for it,” Knockout replied snidely. “If you wanted my advice, as one mech to another, you could have asked for it. Instead you got prissy because I didn’t want to play house with you and your little band of misfits.”

Bumblebee’s engine sputtered with indignation and some guilt.

“Fine,” Bumblebee finally agreed, unable to completely rid his voice of irritation. “I’ll figure something out if Wildbreak leaves the Stunticons.”

“Thank you.” It was more a declaration of victory than gratitude.

“Now uh, you have anything else you could tell me about the Stunticons?”

“Unfortunately, I’ve revealed all my cards,” Knockout admitted with a shrug, not sounding the least bit sorry. “But I’ll let you know if I learn anything juicy.”

With that, Knockout was gone again with barely a wave for the handful of team members even online this time of morning.

It wasn’t until later when Bumblebee had Fixit pull up any information he could find on Motormaster and Menasor, criminal or historical, that he finally got the answer to why Knockout had gotten himself so invested. For all that Bumblebee had known Knockout after the war, he had always looked to stay distanced from others, charming but not caring to get involved past pleasantries, never staying in one place for long. But this sparkling of a criminal had caught his full attention in ways no other mech had for over a decade.

The research also explained the almost personal distaste he had for Motormaster and the Stunticons as a team.

There was list of former Stunticon members from early in the war, before even Bumblebee had been forged, and standing out like a glaring neon sign was the name Breakdown.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Dragstrip stared at him before asking, “What?”

“You know, like, where a spark that joins the Allspark comes back out to be forged again--”

“I know what it is. What I’m trying to figure out is why you’re even asking such a pointless question,” Dragstrip mocked. However, he still handed Wildbreak a cube of energon before sitting down to drink his own.

“I dunno. Just been thinking about it.” Because admitting that he was being plagued by thoughts of a mech he shouldn’t know would make Wildbreak sound insane. He wasn’t completely sure that he wasn’t. “Like, would he be the same, or would he be a different mech the second time around? Would he remember anything?”

Dragstrip stared at him out the corner of his optic as he took a long drink.

“When’d you decide to become some sorta religious type?”

Wildbreak just shrugged, muttering, “Doesn’t matter,” and busied himself with his drink.

“This ‘bout your spark thing? You think it’s ‘cause you’re a reincarnation or something?”

“Yeah. But that sounds pretty glitched, don’t it?”

“Eh, who knows how all that Allspark business works,” Dragstrip said with a lazy wave of his servo. “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. Would it make a difference to ya if you were?”

Knockout’s sad smile as he said Breakdown’s name flashed unbidden in Wildbreak’s processor.

“Depends on who I was.”

Dragstrip hummed noncommittally before finishing off his cube with a satisfied ex-vent.

“Ah well, no way of figuring that out anyway, so don’t worry that tiny little processor of yours over it, buddy ol’ pal,” Dragstrip said as he pushed up to his feet and chucked the cube carelessly. “We got more important stuff to focus on today. We got a big race to win for the Boss!”

“A race?” Wildbreak asked.

“Yeah! With that title, we’ll really be the rulers of the roads!”

Wildbreak’s sparkpulse barely quickened at all at the idea, but he forced a grin onto his face and followed after Dragstrip.

The third time they talked, it was over commlinks. It had only been the one day – Wildbreak hadn't even had a chance to recharge yet beyond the couple hours that morning – but already he missed Knockout something fierce.

::Tomorrow?::

::Yeah,:: Wildbreak said, aware of how hopeful his tone was. ::I’d like to see ya.::

::Unfortunately I'm leaving town tonight. I shouldn't be gone more than a day or two though.::

Wildbreak's spark sank.

::Oh. Ok. Well uh, let me know when you get back then?::

There was a pause, and Wildbreak worried that he had sounded too needy, that Knockout wouldn’t be interested anymore because he was so pathetic—

::You could come with if you wanted.::

Wildbreak's spark was caught between joy and the reality that was his frame. Losing the race had made Motormaster mad and he had taken it out on them all, leaving them battered and just this side of broken. Wildbreak's lines had only just finished closing up, so he wasn't leaking energon anymore, but it would take a couple hours at least to work out the dents. Even then though, Wildbreak knew he needed a long, deep recharge to let his frame heal enough that his injuries wouldn’t be obvious.

Normally, after one of Motormaster’s beatings, Wildbreak would curl up and spend a couple days healing until someone finally dragged him out.

But now, Wildbreak wanted desperately to be up and running as soon as he could.

::I really wish I could, but I can’t do nothing tonight.::

::You can’t honestly tell me that little race was enough to tire you out,:: Knockout teased. Heat bloomed in Wildbreak’s frame with embarrassment.

::You saw that, huh?::

::No need to be embarrassed. We’ve all had Autobots ruin a race or two,:: Knockout said easily.

::Yeah? Tell me about yours?::

::I’m sure you can wait a couple days.::

Wildbreak curled up tighter, arms around his knees and back against a boulder, staring out across the terrain as the sun dipped closer to the horizon.

::Wildbreak?::

::Could you tell me about it now? I—I just really wanna hear you talk. If that isn’t weird. That’s weird, isn’t it?::

There was a moment of silence before Knockout asked, utterly serious, ::Is something wrong?::

::I’m fine,:: Wildbreak answered automatically.

::That’s a lie if ever I’ve heard one.:: And now Knockout sounded concerned.

::Uh, then, I’ll be fine, so it’s ok.::

::Wildbreak.::

Wildbreak squirmed, imaging the look that Knockout would give him.

::Motormaster got mad about the race and, well, you know.::

There was a tired ex-vent that carried across the line before Knockout replied knowingly, ::I do.:: The thought that Knockout had ever been punished when he was a Decepticon hadn’t ever crossed Wildbreak’s processor, but it was there now and it sparked something furious in his lines. He didn’t have time to do anything with that outrage though before Knockout said, ::I can wait until tomorrow morning if you still want to come with me. It won’t be fun, exactly, but I wouldn’t mind the company.::

Wildbreak blinked as he realized what Knockout was offering.

For the first time that day, a genuine grin split Wildbreak’s face.

::Yeah, that would be great! Where’re we going?::

::To visit my old friend.::

“Ey, Wildbreak!” Dragstrip called, and Wildbreak went stiff as a board as his partner continued, “Get over here!”

Wildbreak could also see the sudden fear in Dragstrip’s optics when Motormaster’s engine hummed loud enough to carry as their boss stepped closer to Wildbreak, making himself visible to the other mech.

“Oh, uh, sorry boss, didn’t see you there. I’ll come back later--”

“We’re almost done here,” Motormaster interrupted, deep rumbling voice sounding oddly pleased and all the more terrifying for it. It was rare that a smile on his face meant anything good. “Wildbreak was just telling me his ideas for the next couple days.”

A sinking feeling gripped Wildbreak as Dragstrip stared in confusion.

“Ideas?”

Wildbreak broke their optic contact and stared at the ground as Motormaster continued, “Yes. He’s going to drive out further than we’ve gone before, expanding our territory and proving who those roads belong to now.” His large servo landed on Wildbreak’s shoulder in what should have been a show of pride and affection, but Motormaster’s optics were trained on Dragstrip, mocking him. “If even Wildbreak can show some initiative for once to make up for his failure, then I don’t see what’s keeping the rest of you from doing the same.”

Nothing could have pulled Wildbreak’s stare from the ground, spark pounding because he knew the hateful look that Dragstrip must have been wearing, that all the Stunticons soon would. He had seen it time and again when Motormaster turned them against each other to motivate through spite. But Wildbreak had never been the cause of that; had never been used to shame the other Stunticons.

Wildbreak had never shown initiative before and his teammates were going to hate him for it.

But he did his best to focus on the fact that as soon as this was done, Wildbreak could grab some cubes of energon and escape into Knockout’s company for a while. It would be worth it.

Even knowing the vaguely macabre purpose of the roadtrip, there was nothing that could have kept Wildbreak’s excitement from bubbling over. He got to use his Earth alt-mode and spend hours upon hours driving with Knockout, listening to more of his stories and talking about Earth and Cybertron and politics with him. Knockout was far more knowledgeable about it all, but he wasn’t unkind about it, which in Wildbreak’s opinion was exceedingly kind. He would simply explain what Wildbreak didn’t understand and they would continue with their conversation.

And, despite his designation as an Autobot, Knockout was frank about the war and the aftermath and where the Autobots were succeeding and where they were failing. The more Wildbreak got to know him, the better he understood why Knockout left the Decepticons after spending millennia with them.

Wildbreak wasn’t sure it could really be considered a betrayal when Knockout hadn’t been particularly loyal to start with.

Knockout was a mech who looked out for himself first and foremost. For all his dramatics and charm, he was pragmatic, and Wildbreak might have thought him ultimately detached and cold if he wasn’t so drawn to him.

Not the mention the fact that Knockout had also looked out for at least one other mech.

As the sun started to sink low in the sky, Knockout mentioned Breakdown again. Maybe it was because they were growing ever closer to their destination, or maybe, as Wildbreak hoped, Knockout simply felt more comfortable opening up to him.

Knockout talked about how they had met.

Breakdown had been recovering from an upgrade which had left him larger and stronger, a little loopy as his processor was slowly booting up and accepting the changed frame. When Knockout had walked in as his assigned medic and introduced himself, saying “I’m Knockout,” Breakdown had given him a dopey smile and replied, “Yeah you are.”

It had been far from the first time that Knockout had heard the line, but there was an awe to it that had made Knockout laugh. It had been a good decade since he had last had a genuine laugh.

Knockout talked about how Breakdown would come back time and again, his frame broken and bleeding, but always so honest when he asked how Knockout had been. Once, his entire arm had been crushed into a mangle of twisted metal, limp and immobile and no doubt severely painful, and Breakdown had asked Knockout if he was getting enough recharge. “Your optics just seem dimmer than usual,” Knockout recounted Breakdown saying, not bothering with a funny voice or imitation like the other Cons in his stories received. There had been nothing but affection in Knockout’s tone.

Knockout talked about being reassigned to work in the field. How he had insisted he would need an assistant that could double as a bodyguard. And when he had managed to convince them, he demanded it be Breakdown.

Knockout talked about their resulting partnership.

For a brief moment, as Knockout was halfway through some exciting story about an adventure they had had on a planet Wildbreak had never even heard of, he wondered if he should be jealous.

But he wasn’t.

Not completely.

Wildbreak wasn’t jealous of the relationship that Breakdown had gotten to have with Knockout. It was sweet, and it warmed Wildbreak’s spark in a way that made his processor whirr with confusion, because it was that familiarity again, recognizing what he couldn’t possibly recognize. If anything, it just made Wildbreak feel as if he was truly going mad. Was he really a reincarnation of some big bruiser of a Decepticon soldier, or was he just so desperate for Knockout’s affection that he was fooling himself with wild ideas that those feelings and stories could somehow be about him?

The sun set and Knockout said they had a couple more hours before they would arrive.

And Wildbreak thought to himself that if he was jealous of anything, it was that he wanted to be rescued by Knockout too.

“Any updates, Fixit?”

“A couple, sir,” the minibot replied as he continued to tap away, bringing up a screen for Bumblebee. “I’ve managed to get all the information on Motormaster that’s on record. It’s like Knockout said – he led the Stunticon combiner team during the war, but rarely to any great success compared to the more infamous Constructicon team. It seems to be due to a lack of proper leadership kills – spills – skills!”

Bumblebee scanned the profile as he prompted, “How so?”

“Well, while it isn’t ever spelled out so obviously, the simple fact is that the Stunticon team had a shockingly high turnover rate. Some were deaths of course, but others seemed to find ways to quit the team, which is unprecedented in other Decepticon teams of the time.”

Near the end of the profile was a list of Stunticon members, and indeed there were more than a dozen names, many with (DECEASED) or (TRANSFERRED) by them.

It still seemed like some weird twist of fate to see Breakdown’s name among them.

“The Stunticon team was apprehended at the end of the war, but Motormaster managed to escape and has been on the run since, so Knockout is correct that the team he has now has likely only worked together since then.”

“Well, that’s good to know, at least,” Bumblebee said as he crossed his arms. He’d have to go through the whole profile a couple times to see if there was anything else helpful to be found there. “And did you find anything out about Breakdown?”

Fixit gave him the same bemused look he had when Bumblebee had first asked him, clearly not sure why he was interested in a former member. But still, his digits tapped away, but only to zoom in on where Breakdown was listed on Motormaster’s profile.

“Unfortunately sir, there isn’t much to be found. While he is listed in the Decepticon registry, he’s labeled as deceased, so like most Decepticons who died in the war, there hasn’t been any effort put into searching the former army’s archives for his files to transfer to the Autobot systems. The only information I have is what’s listed here.”

Which wasn’t much. Just a designation, a frame type (small four-wheeler, which had to be a mistake considering what Bumblebee remembered of the big brute), and (TRANSFERRED).

Still, it was a confirmation of Knockout’s connection to the Stunticons, as tenuous and outdated as it was.

“Don’t worry about it, Fixit. I was just curious. Tell me more about Motormaster.”