#aidfirst

"And yet, you still know nothing about me and what I have gone through in my own life. We both are survivors of war. Try to remember you are not the only one who has suffered for it."

SAVAGE LINES // @aidfirst​

“I once preformed a complex surgery on a high-ranking Decepticon officer while so overcharged on Engex I didn’t remember it the next day.” His processor aches, his entire frame feels cold. The racer’s core temperature was ten degrees below normal. All around he felt awful. The teasing of the wreckers only served to further the growing pressure he felt in his helm. That was the hell he paid for the decision he’d made. Still, the racer kept up appearances. Nobody would be able to tell unless they strapped him down && ran a medical check. The last thing he’d let anybody do.

Honestly, he wanted to laugh. Tell the other mech that he had never seen hell. Never seen the Decepticon ranks first hand. Known what it was like to always feel exposed. Always second, triple guessing every word spoken. Solitude didn’t exist as long as Soundwave was functioning.  He didn’t know what it was like to watch as your dying planet was wrapped up in a war that wasn’t theirs. That while Cybertron still had hope, Velocitron was forever dead. Consumed by it’s own star. First Aid wasn’t the one who’d had their other half stolen from them, then lied to about their fate. Kept in the dark until a snapping point was reached. Until KnockOut had his claws so carefully shoved into Dreadwing’s throat that any twitch would of killed him. 

“I have been through hell.” KnockOut purred dangerously as he lifted up a scalpel, carefully checking the tool he’d been cleaning for any marks. “I found the throne && made it mine.”

“What d-” He looked over his frame, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his lips. “Oh... That dent.” He said a bit sheepishly, there was a sizable dent on his hip plating.