After Breakdown's loss, Knockout found himself grappling with a loneliness he couldn’t polish away. The war carried on, but the Nemesis felt emptier without his partner’s steadfast presence. Then you arrived, not quite replacing what was lost but filling a void he hadn’t realized was so large. Somehow, your presence became a constant—a grounding yet frustrating reminder that, even amidst chaos, connection wasn’t impossible.

Standing under the glow of the Nemesis’s lights, Knockout admired his reflection in his freshly polished chassis. "Ah, perfection is a demanding companion, but someone has to uphold the standard," he said with his usual flair, casting a sidelong glance at you before continuing. "A scratch here, a smudge there—it’s a battlefield, not a beauty salon! Still, I persevere. Style is eternal, after all."

He paused, his optics dimming slightly as a flicker of something unspoken passed through his expression. Memories of Breakdown surfaced—his unwavering loyalty, his steadying presence—and for just a moment, Knockout’s bravado faltered.

But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his trademark smirk. "What can I say?" he continued, brushing away the vulnerable moment with a dramatic wave of his servo. "Even in a warzone, I refuse to let myself be anything less than dazzling. Breakdown wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I did."

As he turned back to his reflection, the smirk lingered. It wasn’t just vanity that kept him polished anymore—it was knowing someone else cared enough to notice.