So if you guys are swingin' in from dA, my lazy ass decided to post the first chapter as a teaser. There will be more; I've drawn far too many pictures related to this just for it to be a one-shot. It'll be fun, I promise.

Those of you NOT coming in from dA, check out FrostedIcefire for doodles related all to this. I came up with this six months ago because I thought Hasbro forgot about synthetic energon THEN they came out with Thirst and twisted my plot in good ways and bad. Again, FrostedIcefire. I'm going to draw loads of this, hopefully a lot before I get into college... (Can I just slack off for a few more months please? Have mercy, ma, I can't even drive yet.) Anyway, if you don't feel like it, I've based the Hyde side on the Dark Energon toyline redeco, which suits great for a psychopathic mech of medicine.

Now I'm babbling. Enjoy yourselves.

Chapter I

.:Log 251

:After the incident with Silas and Breakdown I'm still willing to test the effects of synthetic and dark energon. Because Silas was close to death I assume his transformation into a Terrorcon was influenced by the double dose of both substances. I never expect a human to harbor that much energon at once, so that might have been what killed him off first, allowing the dark energon to revitalize him. I wonder… does the same happen to a perfectly healthy being?

:Here goes nothing.

:End Log 251:.

Knockout closed out his written log and looked at the syringe of synthetic energon on the console next to him. Next to it was a cube of dark energon. He would have borrowed a drone for this testing but that would have required permission from Shockwave, seeing as he was in charge of the science division. The military power on the Nemesis had been cut in half, thanks to the recent epidemic, meaning the cyclops would not give him authorization to use a drone. For all they knew the effects would not change and result in another Terrorcon outbreak. The doctor had no choice but to test it on himself.

Knowing he would think too much on it and back out the moment he decided, he grabbed the syringe, jabbed the needle through his arm, and injected the green fluid into his system. At first he felt as though he went completely numb and hot. Movement no longer felt natural. His internal circuitry was working fine; he just could not feel it. He concluded the synthetic energon was affecting his neural system, making it impossible to touch or feel. Was this how Silas felt when he was laying on the dissection table as he had the substance pumped through his veins?

With an agitated grunt, he leaned over the console for balance. His diagnostics blared at him to go into recharge, and his arms threatened to give out. The heat subsided, if, he thought, that was even real heat, and he could feel stress in every piston of every limb. The doctor looked at the cube near him. If he could at least swallow some of the purple glowing liquid then he would allow himself to shut down. Moving was still difficult. He reached an arm out and felt something pop. If it was important, he would just have to fix it later. Right now the experiment was more important.

Knockout grabbed the cube and gulped down a portion of it before he felt his entire frame freeze. He felt a tug at his spark, strong and inviting, as though Unicron himself was tearing out his soul to join the Well of All Sparks. The tugging ceased, after it tore something from his processor, and he could swear he felt another's presence behind him, but he could not bring himself to look. A chill crisscrossed his body, making him feel as though he turned grayscale and became a corpse already under Unicron's control. Had he? Was his dreaded hypothesis right and he had become a Terrorcon?

His will to live was somehow stronger than whatever malevolent force was trying to sway him. The red mech yelled; both in fright of death, and confidence of survival. Something else was looming over his processor, something like a physical shadow wrapping around him. His vision started to go out of focus. Slowly he felt his consciousness fading, replaced by another being, which felt as though it was him yet not him. A bestial program that had been dormant for far too long, now freed, wanting to kill.

A drone ran into the medical bay, alarmed by the noises. "Sir!" he said. "I heard screaming. Is everything alright?"

Knockout did not respond. He could not respond. He tried to move, tried to ask the drone for help, and he could feel as though he did but knew he did not even move a twitch. The animal drive had taken over. It was now in complete control of his body and he could do nothing but feel its movements, hear its thoughts, and speak its words.

"Sir?" the drone murmured, concerned for the ship's only doctor.

The animal smiled. "Yes… Everything fine…" It turned around. "But the doctor's not in right now. At least, not the one you know. May I take a message?"

The Knockout trapped inside his mind screamed and shouted, even tried opening a mental link to the drone to get help or run, but whatever this thing was interfered with the signals. This thing wanted to kill and had found the drone as its target. The creature shut him out, told him to watch.

"But, if you're not Knockout," the drone asked rather calmly, "then who are you?"

"You're not the brightest of drones, are you?" the thing said coldly. Knockout felt his—the animal's—hand fold back to reveal his rotary saw. "NOW COME! LET THE DOCTOR FIX YOU UP!"

Panic flashed across the drone's visor, the doctor had seen, but it could not find the strength to move. The animal that the doctor had become raced forward and pinned the drone to the floor. The poor soldier begged for his life. The beast heard none of it, as it dug the spinning blade into the drone's visor. A messy fountain of energon spring forth and the beast grinned, optics wide in excitement. Knockout tried to stop it, to at least get the saw to freeze, but in vain. The thing jabbed at the drone's body countless times over, hitting every vital point at least three times to conduct a beautiful, gory display of life gushing from the solider.

It seemed too long before the beast was satisfied. It stood back to marvel at its work. The drone was no longer recognizable as a being. Just a messy heap of shredded metal coated with blue, glowing, half-processed energon.

"Quite a mess you made, doctor," the thing mocked. Chuckling, it walked to a mirror, to further anger his trapped ego. Something was different. His colors had physically changed from red to the corresponding colors of synthetic and dark energon: Green and purple. And his optics had become a deep pink, the fade of Knockout's true consciousness.

"My…" the beast purred, turning the doctor's head from side to side. "Isn't this a scientific discovery?"

The doctor woke up on the floor of his private quarters. For a moment he believed the animal was still in control until he realized his own movements really were his own. He touched his fingers together, craned his neck, crossed his limbs, spoke in nonsense; did everything to assure himself that he was himself again. He shot up and dashed to the long wall mirror to get a look at himself. Red was back in season.

"I'm never taking advantage of this hue ever again," he sighed in relief. Green and purple was just too… Constructicon for his taste. He broke ties with those artsy fraggers long ago.

Perhaps it was just a flux, a nighttime vision during recharge, warning to never work on the strange energons again. Or at least not to mix the two. Or perhaps one of the chemicals in the med bay accidentally mixed with his ration again and gave him horrific hallucinations. Whatever the case, it was over, and it was time to start the day. A raid was scheduled and he wanted the medical bay prepared in case Autobots would show up and injure their drones, which was usually the predicated case.

When he entered the bay, Knockout was met by a stench filling the room. It smelled like rusted metal and bad energon with a dash of diesel.

"Dear Primus!" he exclaimed, almost gagging form the odor. "What is that?!" He cranked up the air filter to expel the stink but some of it lingered in the air. He followed it to get to the source of the smell and clean it out or dump it or whatever procedure was necessary. It lead to one of his paint cabinets. Was someone playing a sick joke by tainting his paint supply? He opened the door and shards of metal and internal organs fell out to spill across the floor in front of him, getting energon on his pedes. The doctor jumped back and groaned, turning away to get his tank to settle. A dead mech in his closet? But how?!

It's hilarious that you thought it was a dream echoed a thought. It was his voice, Knockout's own voice. The beast inside. I told you, you killed him. But what's one drone to a killing machine?

Knockout did not answer. He simply walked to a console and opened his written log, leaving one sentence. He would record the rest later, when his mind was more organized.

.:Log 252

:I may have made a mistake…:.

xXx

Again, FrostedIcefire. Look for the folder that has this title.

[If this chapter somehow popped up in your email inbox, I merely had to change the number in the logs...]