Iacon Wasteland

*1 Year Later*

"I hate parties," Ratchet muttered as he buffed himself up in his room.

"Hey, it's been a full year since we've been here. Siren wants us to have one to socialize and boost morale," Swindle told him, leaning against the wall.

"And I repeat, I don't like parties, but thanks for the buffer," he thanked him.

"You're lucky I have so much power with supplies here," the merchant mentioned.

"I know," Ratchet murmured as he laid the buffer by the side on his berth. "So, how do I look?" he asked, showing himself off.

"Looking good. Got a shine to you," Swindle complimented. "No one will purge their systems at the site of you."

"What a compliment," Ratchet sarcastically muttered as he walked to the door. "Let's go."

"Alright," Swindle agreed, following along as Ratchet opened the door and they both walked out, encountering a particularly groomed up individual, painted black and with a red face and blue optics. Everything about him seemed immaculate. "Ah, hello Momus," Swindle greeted him.

"Ah, hello Swindle" he greeted, shaking his hand, "and you, uh, I'm sorry, I don't believe we've properly introduced each other."

"Ratchet, and relax. I didn't recognize you much either," Ratchet told him.

"You think with a whole year in here with fifty people would include you two socializing at some point," Swindle remarked.

"Aside from healing people, I don't really socialize much," Ratchet remarked, looking at him. "Although I feel like I should know you."

"Oh, I'm a Senator, or I was," Momus muttered, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"Senator? Don't you all live in the high-class part of Iacon?" Ratchet asked, confused. "Why do you live with people of lower classes?"

"I was created in Helex, so I've known what it's like to be poor," Momus told him. "Granted, I live in the most expensive part of Westside, but it's practically chump change compared to pretty much all of Periphery Heights."

"I've been there a lot for business transactions and a single block is worth more than Westside," Swindle told him.

"Damn. I could never get that rich," Ratchet murmured.

"Relax, most of the people there are complete assholes, especially the senators, no offense," Swindle apologized to Momus.

"It's fine. They are," he shrugged.

"Well, we've talked enough. I think we should go talk to the rest," Swindle told them. "You two might meet a few people you haven't met."

"Yes, that will be good," he agreed before shaking Ratchet's hand again. "Take care. I hope you make as many new friends as I do. I gotta move quickly." He ran away at a quick pace as Ratchet and Swindle started walking along, much more slowly.

"So, a senator?" Ratchet asked.

"Yeah, he handles the administrations with a few other politically savvy individual," Swindle told them.

"Any more senators?"

"Not that I know of," Swindle answered. "Most of them live in Periphery with a few others living in the other districts. I even heard that one of them lives in the Dead End."

"Why would a senator live in that place? It's a place where the poorest of the poor live," Ratchet murmured.

"Yeah, I don't know. I've never met him," Swindle shrugged as they turned to the staircase to the atrium. "So, how was your first year here?" he asked.

"It was… okay," Ratchet murmured. "Could've been worst with the whole world a nuclear wasteland.

"Yeah, I imagine everyone outside is thinking that this is the worst year ever," Swindle gave a forced chuckled. "So many people."

"How was it for you?" Ratchet asked.

"Got a nice job. Isn't much work. Made friends there. It's almost enough to forget the world died last year," he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah… better than me. There's a bit of a divide between Ambulon and First Aid, and I'm caught all up in the middle of it. I try to make time for both while their relationship rusts away into nothing."

"Damn. Glad I'm not taking place in that conflict," Swindle laughed, slightly more genuine this time.

"You should be," Ratchet grumbled. "Rewind's been spending the most time with Lightstep while Ambulon spends most of his time by himself."

"Will he be around for the party?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe," he shrugged as they climbed the stairs. "Could go either way."

"Maybe I'll go fetch him for you if you want me to if he isn't there," Swindle offered. "I can talk people into doing things they don't want to do."

"If you want," he shrugged as they opened the door to the atrium. Inside, a large amount of people were already gathered and the atrium lights were dimmed a little bit. The people were drinking and socializing, most with a smile on their face, glad to have something to take their minds off things.

"Ah, look at all those smiles. Feels like home," Swindle noted.

"We are, technically, home," Ratchet pointed out to him.

"Oh, yeah… Whatever," he shrugged before walking off. "Go chat up some people Ratchet. You'll feel better." He walked on over to a small group and included himself, leaving Ratchet by himself. Ratchet glanced at him before walking over and a seat by himself at a table. He didn't do soirees and would rather just let any of the people come to him.

"Hmph. Good to see someone else trying to stay by themselves," he heard someone grumble and turned to see Bludgeon standing there, looking as intimidating as ever.

"Bludgeon… I thought you would stay inside your room," Ratchet said, surprised.

"I was ordered to watch over everyone and make sure everything goes well," he grumbled, taking a seat that gave him the best view of everyone. "I would rather tend to the garden than this."

"Oh, I passed by it earlier and the garden is coming along very nicely. You and the other gardeners are very good at it," he complimented.

"It's nothing," he brushed off. "It's very easy and calming. It and breaking up fights are good ways of getting rid of anger. That and fighting in general. People don't know that I want to be left alone."

"Yeah, I've had a bunch of people in the med-bay there because of you," Ratchet told him.

"Apologize for overworking you."

"No problem. Gets me something to do," Ratchet thanked him.

"I'll take that as encouragement to fight more," he growled.

"Uh, no, gardening is a very healthy hobby. Keep it up," he asked of him.

"It depends on everyone else here," he murmured. "Keep them in line, I won't break them."

"I don't have much influence here," he said, rubbing the side of his neck. "Just try and tolerate them more."

"I don't tolerate idiocy," Bludgeon murmured, looking at a couple who looked to be arguing about something, which caught Ratchet's attention too. That gave him an idea.

"How about you prevent more fights before they start?" Ratchet asked, trying to give him advice.

"I meditate. Not mediate," Bludgeon told him.

"Well, you have plenty of time to practice. Nothing wrong with taking a shot," he recommended to him.

"Maybe…. Alright," Bludgeon muttered, getting up. "I'll just intimidate them into giving up." He walked on over to the couple, leaving Ratchet by himself again. He looked around and noticed several people with cubes of energon and decided that he needed one too. Something to do when no one was talking to him. He got up and looked around, seeing a table filed with energon. He walked on over to and quickly grabbed one and headed over to his seat, taking a seat and trying to ignore everyone.

"Heeeey!" a voice said as an arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him loser, almost making him spill his drink. He recognized the drawl from the voice that it could only be Lugnutz and was confirmed when his motorcycle frame got in sight by him taking a seat next to him. He was smiling, obvious enjoying himself, which was surprising, until Ratchet smelled high-grade and barbiturates from Lugnutz and he understood why he was having such a good time. Ratchet smelled his glass of energon and didn't smell high-grade not barbiturates in it so he must've gotten it from another source. "How's it hanging?"

"I'm just sitting here, enjoying the smiles," he told him. "You are definitely enjoying yourself."

"Oh, totally," he said, leaning against him and increasing the stench entering Ratchet's olfactory systems, causing him to grimaced.

"You have a… unsatisfying smell," Ratchet murmured.

"Oh, sorry," Lugnutz muttered, moving back and leaning against the table instead. "I'm feeling really good."

"Yeah, I can-"

"Let me go!" a voice yelled and Ratchet turned to see Bludgeon carrying Pyrobyte out of the room, who was obviously struggling against him. He watched this scene until Bludgeon left the room and the door closed.

"Oh, wow, he's not very well," Lugnutz muttered after that happened. "He needs to calm down."

"That's… unlikely. Damn split-spark twins," Ratchet murmured.

"Oh, yeah," he murmured. "That sucks…."

"That's putting it lightly," Ratchet murmured.

"Oh, you're a medic," a voice asked and Ratchet turned to see Tidalshock, his face bleeding and some glass stuck in his face.

"You need one, I'm guessing," Ratchet determined.

"Yeah. That mech was pretty violent," he muttered, rubbing his face to comfort it and pushing glass deeper in, causing him to gasp a bit in pain.

"Dude, that wasn't smart," Lugnutz murmured, taking a drink of his high-grade.

"Yeah… maybe not," he agreed, reaching to a piece of glass and poking it.

"Didn't you learn the first time," Ratchet asked, standing up with a drink in his hand. "Follow me. We'll head to the Med-Bay."

"Don't worry about it," Ambulon said, coming up behind him. "I'll take care of it. I don't want to be here anyway."

"Oh, uh, okay," Ratchet agreed, sitting back down while Ambulon grabbed Tidalshock by the arm and lead him out of the room. Ratchet watched him go before turning back to Lugnutz. "That was weird." he murmured, drinking his glass again.

"So weird," Lugnutz agreed.

"He's been like this for a while," a deep voice said as Treads took a seat, taking up a whole side of the table. "He's been so morose since we've heard about the bomb. I try cheering him up, but he doesn't respond very well. Just keeps being moody." He leaned against the table with his elbow, his head in his hands, sighing sadly.

"Well, to be fair, the world is still bathed in nuclear fire," Ratchet shrugged. "He might be thinking about it more than the rest of us."

"Yeah… he had a lot of family up top. I didn't have anyone to really care about except him, so I handle it alright. Ugh," he moaned. "I just want to punch the melancholy from him."

"I… don't think you can do that," Ratchet told him.

"Can't help thinking like that. I'm a tank. We specialize in punching holes into objects like hole-puncher factories," he told them.

"Yeah… right," he agreed, not exactly sure how to deal with him.

"You know, I'm going to see if I can punch it out of him," Treads said, standing up.

"Go for it, dude," Lugnutz encouraged.

"Yes, go for- wait, what?" Ratchet asked, glaring at Lugnutz.

"Yeah, I can do it! I can break anything!" he yelled as he rushed out pf the room and left Ratchet glaring at where he once was before fixing it back to Lugnutz.

"Anything happens, I blame you," he seethed.

"Cool, bro," he said before drinking more of his glass.

"Now, where did you get the drugs?" Ratchet asked.

"Drugs?" Lugnutz questioned.

"The barbiturates in your high-grade. Only medics have access to those," Ratchet accused.

"Oh," he murmured, thinking about it hard. "I… I don't know. Can't think straight," he murmured, rubbing his head.

"Won't tell me? Fine. I'll figure it out by myself," Ratchet murmured, taking another drink of his glass.

"Cool. I hate remembering faces," Lugnutz agreed, drinking some more.

"Hmph…," Ratchet mummed as he relaxed and drank some more. Okay, this could've been going better, but it wasn't that bad yet. At most, it was mildly annoying.

"Hey, Ratchet," a femme voice said and Lightstep took a seat to his right. "How you doing?"

"Fine, Lightstep. I've examine the sample of your energon you gave me and its all fine," Ratchet told her.

"Oh, wonderful, but I just came here to chat to you and my fellow motorcycle friend who hasn't taken the time to properly introduce me to him," she said, indicating Lugnutz, who gave a thumbs up before talking.

"Lugnutz. I'm a courier. Still try to be one," he told her with a raise of his glass and drank it, finishing, slamming it on the table. Damn, I need more."

"Lugnutz? That's an unusual name. I'm guessing you weren't name that upon creation," she suggested.

"My real name is just Lugnut, but I added the letter at the end to differentiate myself from another Lugnut a lot bigger than me, who insisted on being called that at all times. I got it legally changed to Lugnutz a while before I got here," he told her, leaning against the table heavily.

"That's interesting," she said with a warming smile before turning to Ratchet. "How about you, Ratchet. Know anybody with a similar name to yours?"

"Well, I know of a Ratchet in Ibex who's a racer. A racer visiting my office called Blurr told me that," he replied.

"Ooh, Ibex. Racing city of Cybertron," she murmured. "I've never visited there."

"Neither have I," he muttered. "Blurr was an out-of-towner and accidently broke his arm struts from falling a great height."

"Ouch," Lugnutz said in sympathy. "Broken arm struts are some of the worst."

"Yeah. It takes real force to break one strut, much less an entire arm," Ratchet commented. "From the height he fell from, he was lucky to escape with only a broken arm."

"Well, Lugnutz, as a courier, you must have a few tails. What are some of the more interesting things you've experience," Lightstep asked him.

"Well, nothing really. I usually stay out of trouble, although I do get a few odd jobs every now and then, sometimes illegal ones, like the one time I was hire to pass a relic gun from a hitbot to an historian. Scary dude, that hitbot. He came to me with energon still on him while I was in Helex and asked me to give this gun to an historian over here in Iacon. Considering he would've, you know, splatter my insides all over the walls if I refuse, I took it. Creepy fragger," Lugnutz shuddered.

"Huh, I must admit, never met a hitbot before. Did you do anything about him?" she asked.

"No, because he's scary and that historian paid me a crazy amount of cash for it to keep me quiet. I can't say no to cash, so I took it, of course," he shrugged.

"Don't blame you. I've worked on some… questionable people for a nice sum of shanix," Ratchet admitted.

"Ratchet, I didn't expect that from you," Lightstep muttered, shock.

"My profession takes a blind eye to a person's profession and only concentrates on saving lives. Every now and then, I get some bad people, like gangbangers, but they do pay quite a bit more than the average person to keep my silence and would do so anyway, in the name of doctor/patient confidentiality, but I never tell them that," he explained himself.

"Huh, I honestly didn't expect this from either of you two. You both seem lie such moral people," she muttered.

"I am moral. You don't see me killing people, do you? I fix people and that's it. No more and no less," he explained to her.

I just transfer one object to another. You expect me to not get pay?" Lugnutz asked.

"Well, I just figure you two would get enough money by keeping it clean," she told them.

"It's clean," Ratchet insisted. "I'm only doing what my profession requires and that's healing and saving people's lives. If you have a problem with me healing saving people's lives, than you have a problem with the profession as a whole," he argued.

"No, I don't have a problem with doctors," Lightstep insisted.

"Exactly. Everyone deserves equal care under my watch, no matter what they do. It's something all doctors agree to."

"I… I'm sorry for saying that," Lightstep apologized.

"You didn't have to, but thanks," he nodded.

"Look, I don't like doing illegal things, but they pay more than most of the legal ones, and often times, refusing could lead to trouble down the line," Lugnutz told here, defending himself. "Couriers are only as useful as long as they are willing to travel and not ask many questions."

"Right… sorry to you too," she Lightstep repeated to him.

"Its fine," he said, getting up. "I need more things to drink. I'll be back," he said, walking off.

"So," Ratchet murmured, "where did you work at before coming to this bunker?" He leaned in, interesting.

"Oh, I worked for the government. I work at a facility in the Atacoma Desert dealing with experimental treatments for filters and the like. There are some compounds that could make the air or energon sources infected with viruses and the sort. We produce ways of countering it," she told him.

"Ah, interesting. You must be a very good scientist," Ratchet mentioned.

"Well, I certainly like to think so. I'm not the best, but I'm certainly competent," she replied with a smile.

"Competence can be a very valuable thing," Ratchet commented, smiling as well.

"Yeah…," she let off.

"So… about you and First Aid," Ratchet began.

"Still trying it out. There's certainly an attraction, but, you know… nuclear annihilation up top. Could be risky to do it," she told him. "Or, at least, I think so. He's a bit quick, but I want to take it slow."

"That's good. I rather you two work it out slowly than just jump the gun and regret it," Ratchet told her.

"I'm happy to see you agree with me," she replied with a smirk.

"Oh, frag," Lugnutz said as he returned and sat where he was with a cube in his hand... "How you two doing?"

"Just fine," Ratchet answered.

"Cool," he replied before drinking from his cube.

"Mine if I join?" a voice asked and Sunspot took a seat across from Ratchet, looking slightly nervous.

"We got room," Lugnutz slurred, holding his head up with his hand.

"Alright, fine, thanks," he gasped out, shaking his head with each word.

"Nervous?" Lightstep asked.

"Nah, I just… miss the outside," he told them. "I work on star charts and activities from other planets, meteors, and comets."

"You work on other planets from this planet. Couldn't you just take a trip to them?" she asked.

"They're one way. I would have to completely reconfigure my star charts to do that and they only allow a few people at a time to do so. There's also been a ban that many people don't know about that prevents people from leaving the planet," he told them.

"Ban?" Ratchet asked.

"Yeah, like I said, it's not common, but it exists. I would've been off this planet to get away from the people that want to kill me if I could," he told them.

"Huh, now why did they do that?" Lightstep asked. "They don't allow many people out in the first place and any that do are not allow to come back."

"Xenophobic fragrards," Lugnutz muttered.

"Anyway, why don't they allow a way out?" she asked.

"Maybe there was such a low amount of people leaving the planet that they decided to just get rid of space travel altogether," Ratchet recommended.

"Could be, but it sounds too simple, not to sound like a conspiracy theorist," Sunspot rejected.

"Why does it even matter?" Lugnutz asked. "All the spaceports are probably bombed to the pits, so they don't matter."

"I know, but it's still suspicious," Sunspot muttered.

"I repeat, does it matter?" Lugnutz asked, yawning.

"I need something to take my mind off the stars! I know this is pointless, but I need to talk about inane BS," he told him, grasping his head. "I miss the stars… and I think I'm getting claustrophobic in here."

"If you're getting claustrophobic, talk to me about it. I can get you some anti-anxiety medicine," Ratchet told him.

"I need a therapist. Not drugs," he muttered.

"We don't have therapists. Only doctors," Ratchet told him.

"That… so… stupid," Sunspot muttered. "I should've stayed up top. I could at least see stars."

"Ratchet," Lugnutz whispered to him, "I think he's unhinged."

"No kidding," Ratchet murmured, standing up. "Sunspot, followed me. I think you need to turn in for the night."

"Yeah… yeah, maybe," he agreed standing up. "Being by myself would get me away from everyone. I hate crowds too, did I forget to mention?"

"…Please, follow me," Ratchet murmured, annoyed. Sunspot nodded and walked closely to him.

"Lugnutz and Lightstep, go talk to other people. I'm sure they'll like to talk to you two," Ratchet recommended to them.

"Sure," Lightstep agreed with a smile. "There's bound to be a few people who are interesting."

"I'll try," Lugnutz murmured, putting his head on the table, "or I may take a nap."

"Good," Ratchet said as him and Sunspot left the table and headed out of the room. The two headed down the stairs. "Listen, we don't have a therapist. We need to give you some drugs."

"I don't one to. I'll get addicted to them," he said, rubbing his wrists.

"It takes a lot to be addicted to drugs, especially medical ones. We've made it so that it isn't very addicting and you don't have to be dependent on it," Ratchet tried to convince.

"Look, can this wait until tomorrow. I'm just going to take a few sleeping medicine and just go out," he told him.

"You're taking sleeping medication? That's just as addictive, you moron," Ratchet chastised.

"Exactly. I don't want two," he muttered.

"Urg… sleep tonight and come to me tomorrow. I'm officially your doctor and you're going to see me once every week," Ratchet ordered.

"What, but I'm fine… enough," he said, the two reaching the intersection.

"No, you're not. You're going to grow resistance to it and take more and more until your practically tripping on it at all times and eventually overdose," he explained what would happen to him. He stopped and looked directly into his optics. "Now tell me, do you want to overdose or do you want to live?" Sunspot looked away and nervously scratch at the back of his head.

"Uh, I-I don't know," Sunspot murmured, unsure. Ratchet sighed and got blunter.

"Look, as a doctor, I won't let this behavior continued. There are two ways to do this, quietly or loudly. Quietly is the two of us talking it out and me giving you recommendations and the like. Loudly is me restraining you to the bed with a guard to watch over you and a heavily controlled schedule. Now, which sounds better to you?" Ratchet asked. Sunspot optics brighten and he wave his hands in appeasement.

"Hey, you have a point," he chuckled, going along with it. "I'll go along with it."

"Good of you to see things my way," Ratchet murmured as he began walking again, Sunspot following him. "I know that sounded harsh, but addiction can be hard to get rid of if you don't deal with it early on."

"Yeah… I know," he muttered.

"Right… here's your room," Ratchet said, standing at his door.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, opening it. "We'll talk tomorrow." He entered it and closed it quickly. Ratchet stared at it before walking off.

*10 Years Later*

"What do you want to show me?" Ratchet asked Swindle as he entered his room near the dead of night, almost everyone else turned in for the night.

"Trust me, this makes no sense," Swindle told him as he headed to his locker and pulled it back. Ratchet watched him, unsure of what this was about. Look," he said, pointing to the corner where a button was, which interested Ratchet. Swindle pushed it and the center of the back wall was pulled up, showing off a ladder heading down.

"What the... where does that lead?" Ratchet asked.

"I already checked and it leads to the storage room behind the locked door," Swindle told him.

"Seriously?" Ratchet asked.

"Yes, and I highly doubt my room is the only one that has this," he told him. "Let's check yours out."

"Alright. Let's check if you're right," Ratchet agreed as Swindle pushed the button closed the door and headed on out. They entered Ratchet's room and went to the locker, where Ratchet pulled it open, revealing a button right there as well. "Damn…," Ratchet murmured, pushing the button. The door opened and a hallway was in front of him. Ratchet stared at it with an open mouth before speaking. "Okay, so if everyone's room has a secret entrance, that means there are fifty of them… that's insane."

"I know," Swindle agreed, closing the door to the room and locking it. "Let's see where this go."

"What, but-"

"Come on, let's go!" he shouted pushing him through the door, causing him to stumble, but he corrected himself and glared at him.

"Don't push me," he growled before moving forward. He moved forward to the end where a ladder to the right was, going up. Ratchet held on to it and climbed up it, Swindle right behind him, although both of them were struggling a bit.

"My wide body is not made for this," Swindle growled.

"I'm not that wide, but this is still a pain to climb," Ratchet growled as they reached the top and reached another hallway. The two walked forward to the end and hanged right. The two walked forward until they reached another ladder heading down. "I hate the people who design this," ratchet with assent from Swindle as they climbed it down until they reached the bottom. A short hallway led to a moveable ladder to the side and a hatch leading down. "Really hate them," he muttered as he opened the hatch, revealing a dark room. "Damn, hard to see."

"Use your Pipbot's flashlight," Swindle told him.

"Flashlight?" Ratchet asked.

"Eleven years and you haven't use the flashlight once?" Swindle asked, glaring at him unbelievably.

"Um… yes," Ratchet murmured, embarrassed.

"Oh by Primus… the button on the top of the screen. Push it," he ordered him. Ratchet nodded and pressed it, letting off a short range light that cover the entire area a few feet ahead of him.

"Alright, sending the ladder down," Ratchet said, grabbing the ladder and examining it to see a protrusion at the top to place at the top of the hatch. Ratchet sent it down until the protrusion and let go, letting it hang in the air at a right angle. "Okay, let's head down," he said heading down and reached the bottom with Swindle loudly landing beside him. The room wasn't very big, so they were squished together rather embarrassingly. There was also a door out.

"Okay, jars, vials… this place is familiar," Swindle murmured.

"Yeah… it is," Ratchet murmured before glaring down at him. "Maybe you can go back up."

"No. Shut up. You do it! I'm too wide to keep doing it."

"What are you getting so blown up about?"

"Because you need to get fragged!"

*Swoosh

The door opened, showing off Tacklebolt, staring at them oddly with a mop in his hand. The two in the closet stared at the awkward position they were in and back to him.

"Okay, let's set the record straight. We weren't doing anything in here," Swindle immediately said.

"Yes, that's correct. We were merely exploring," Ratchet told him.

"Really? Because that was… a lot of sexual comments," he said. Examining them closely. "I must say, I don't get it why you two are together, but I should've seen it in hindsight."

"No!" they both shouted, both of them trying to get out of them and stumbled out of the room, Swindle on top of Ratchet. Tacklebolt stared at the struggling 'couple,' actively struggling against each other. He knew, from the way they were acting, it was secret romantic rendezvous. It was kind of romantic, although he would pick somewhere besides the closet. They could do some medical play in here. The two finally separated and stood up, brushing themselves off and stand at attention, trying to act like it didn't happen.

"Alright, sorry for interrupting your janitorial duties," Swindle apologized.

"As am I," Ratchet nodded.

"Nah, it's no problem. You two are in love," he said with a coy smile, leaning against the broom.

"No we're not!" they both shouted in unison.

"Uh-huh… yep!" he said with a chuckle before he looked behind them and his face scrounge up in confusion. "Why is there a secret compartment in their?" he asked, looking at it carefully. The 'couple' looked at each other before Ratchet answered.

"Well… Swindle found out that all the rooms had secret entrances leading to other places in the facility," Ratchet told him.

"What… seriously?" he asked, straightening up.

"Yeah, I was just looking around the room when I found a button behind the locker. It opens a door that could lead anywhere in the facility," Swindle told him.

"Wow… that's nuts," he said, rubbing his head.

"It's the truth," Swindle answered. "It's strange that these were built, but here's the proof."

"So… what's the point of it?" he asked.

"I… have no idea," he answered, scratching his chin. "It's certainly strange."

"Huh… well, at least it tells me how you two made it to your secret love spot," he poked fun at them, causing the two of them to continue seething.

"We're not dating!"

*100 Years Later*

Ratchet laid on his berth, insufferably bored. 111 years of being in the place was taking its toll on him. He really wanted out. Insanity was setting in for him, doing the same thing over and over again, little to no change… it was insufferable. They had taken radiation readings from outside and still found them so high, that stepping out would lead to a full systems shut down in minutes. He was stuck doing the same thing, day by day by day. If it wasn't for the fact that the date changed, he would think that he was in a groundhog's day loop.

*Knock Knock Knock*

Ratchet stared at the door and sighed. It was something to break up the monotony. He might as well open it. He got up and walked on over to it, the person still knocking on it. Ratchet walked like he was going through sludge, slowly and sloppily. He reached the door and opened it, showing off Barricade, standing there with his arms crossed, tapping his finger on his arm and his foot against the floor. "Hello, Barricade," Ratchet murmured, surprised. He didn't talk to him much.

"We have a problem. Momus is having a seizure in the Med-Bay and we can't find First Aid and Ambulon," Barricade immediately told him.

"What?!" Ratchet murmured, immediately moving down the hall with Barricade following behind him.

"Momus entered the room with Sunspot and used a medicine without consulting one of you," he told him.

"Dammit," Ratchet murmured as they quickly traversed the facility and to the Med-Bay, where Sunspot was doing his best to keep Momus still. Ratchet came on over and looked at him. "Alright, tell me what happen."

"I thought I could do it…," Sunspot muttered guiltily. "I saw you grabbing things from there, I thought I could do it."

"What does that mean?" Ratchet questioned him.

"Look, I tried to get him some sleeping medicine, but when he injected himself with it, he started having a seizure," he told him.

"Seizures are not common among us," Barricade noted. "This has to be something unusual."

"It is rare for people to suffer from it, but it still happens. Has Momus ever taken sleeping medicine before?" Ratchet asked Sunspot.

"Uh. I don't think so. He said he wanted to sleep more and he figured that he would use the sleeping medicine to do that," he told him.

"Okay, I think I may understand what's going on," Ratchet said, heading over to a cabinet and grabbing a vial of yellow liquid. He grabbed a syringe and sucked up a lot of the liquid before grabbing some powder and coming back to Momus. "Keep his head still so I can inject it into his neck," Ratchet told him and him, along with Barricade, held on to his upper half to keep it from moving. Ratchet used the powder and brushed it against the left side of his neck. Revealing a blue line near the center. Ratchet grabbed the syringe and slowly inserted it into the blue line, the two keeping him still, as it pierced the neck cable and he slowly injected the contents into the neck. Momus kept shaking for a little while longer before he stopped, resting quietly.

"Holy… what was wrong with him?" Sunspot asked.

"Allergic reaction. Sleeping medicine has a chemical called onesu that can react violently in some people's sparks. Roughly 1 for every 100,000 cybertronians, with studies indicating that they bunched up at Helex. It hits the sparks and immediately causes massive fluctuations and causes grand mal seizures," Ratchet told them. "It's a doctor's job to check them to make sure it doesn't react violently when it enters the energon stream. Not every doctor has colvert, a drug to slow spark fluctuations."

"Oh…," Sunspot murmured, rubbing the side of his neck.

"Yes. 'Oh.' A good reason to consult with me before taking a drug you might be allergic too!" Ratchet yelled at him.

"I'm sorry. It was an accident," he tried to defend himself.

"Let this be a lesson to you, don't use any of the medicine without a doctor's supervision. His spark could've burst and he would've been dead," he laid it onto him.

"I'm sorry! I just thought it would be simply getting it and injecting it. I didn't know people could be allergic to it!" he justified it.

"Everyone's spark is unique enough to make each person's energonstream different and react to different things. Don't do it again," he said, looking over Momus. "He should probably spend the night here in case any unintended side effects happen."

"Yeah… alright," Sunspot agreed. "I… I… I'll go to my room. I screw up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, he said walking out of the room, leaving Barricade behind.

"Primus, he's a giant idiot at anything not astronomy related," Barricade muttered as he walked on over and looked Momus over. "Almost got our ex-senator here killed."

"Yeah… that wasn't very smart of him," Ratchet said as he started putting the stuff up.

"Well, at least his stupidity is adding some excitement to this monotony," he muttered.

"I feel the same," the doctor agreed, putting the powder and colvert up before Barricade at looking Momus over.

"111 years of doing the same thing over and over again… had no idea how dull it could get."

"Hmm-hmm," Ratchet murmured as he grabbed a datapad and started filling information in on Momus for his stay.

"Yeah… I've taken to bashing my head against y room's wall to break the monotony," he said, rubbing his head, which Ratchet noticed had a dent in the forehead.

"Want me to check that out?" Ratchet asked.

"Nah, I just need a buffer and I'm good," he said, crossing his arms again. "I've overused my first two, so I need to ask Swindle for a new one."

"You have been using it a lot," he noticed.

"Yeah, I have," Barricade muttered. "I want to get out, but the radiation will kill me. It really is insufferable."

"How wonderful," Ratchet muttered sarcastically.

"Yes, it is…," Barricade muttered.

*Whoosh*

The door opened and the two turned to see Pyrobyte walked in with slumped shoulders. "What do you want?" Barricade asked. "Came to start another fight?"

"Nah, I just… need to take some anti-depressants," he said, rubbing a hand against his shoulders. "These past few years haven't been very good to me."

"Nor has your attitude been good for me," Barricade muttered before turning to Ratchet. "Find him some anti-depressants. It may make him less violent."

"Fine. I just got done filling out Momus's form," Ratchet agreed, putting the file up and getting the anti-depressants. Pyrobyte looked on over to Momus on the operating table, his face scrounged up.

"What happened to him?" Pyrobyte asked, sounding happy.

"Allergic reaction to sleeping medication. Have you taken anti-depressants before?" Ratchet asked, turning to him. "I'm having difficulty remembering what drugs you've taken."

"Uh, I've taken some while I've been here, I've been on and off for a while," he told him.

"Alright, then we don't have to test your body's energon," Ratchet said, coming on over with a jar and a box of disposable syringes. "I'm guessing you know how to get it done?"

"Of course," he said, grabbing each with of his hands. "Thank you," he said before heading out.

"Don't overdose," Ratchet told him as he left the room, leaving him with Barricade and Momus again.

"Right… I think I'll leave Momus in your capable hands," Barricade said with a nod. "I trust you'll be fine sticking with him until he's fine."

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Ratchet said. "Taking care of a patient is a good way to break up the monotony."

"Alright. I'll go patrol the area," he said, heading out of the room and closing the door, leaving Ratchet alone with Momus. Ratchet stared at the door before looking over Momus. Who was recharging calmly, although his face was slightly stressed out. Ratchet sighed, went to a table, grabbed a datapad, and check the inventory.

*200 Years Later*

"What are you showing me?" Ratchet asked Lightstep in the reactor room. Around the room was Momus leaning against the wall, First Aid at Lightstep's side, Sunspot sitting a chair, and a couple of scientists, the blue-and-white one named Handbrake and the purple-and-orange one was Lander. First Aid had his arm around Lightstep, which made sense, considering they were conjunx enduras now and have been for 157 years. Everyone decided to celebrate it, even Ambulon, although he was reluctant.

"Well, we just got the results from outside the door," she said cutely, showing off a datapad.

"And? Can we finally get out of this place?" Ratchet asked, impatient.

"Well… yes," she said showing it off. "It's finally clear out of the area, although there are still pockets of it around the area at small amounts," she told him.

"Yes!" Ratchet shouted with a clap of his hand and a large smile. "About time."

"No kidding," Momus agreed with a smile. "I think it's about time we get a look outside."

"It's bound to be horrible looking," Handbrake said. "The world got nuked to oblivion, in case you don't remember."

"It's better than being down here," he said, rubbing his hand together in anticipation. "We've been here for way too long."

"I know. It's awesome!" Lander agreed.

"Ugh… could be worst," Handbrake reluctantly agreed.

"It's going to be wonderful," First Aid said, leaning against Lightstep's shoulder.

"Aw, it will be," she agreed.

"Ugh, you two are too cute," Handbrake with a rolled of the optics.

"I can't wait to see the stars. It's been too long," Sunspot agreed.

"It will probably be hard to see. Might still be some toxic smoke around," Lightstep told him.

"I'll find a clear spot. Trust me," he told her.

"That's a good way to look at it," she agreed.

*Whoosh*

The door opened ad Pyrobyte walked in, determined. Ratchet turned and looked at him. "Hey, Pyrobyte," he greeted. "We're finally getting out of here."

"Don't care," he muttered until he stood in front of Momus, whose smile and turned into a fearful gaze. Ratchet wondered what was wrong when he looked at Pyrobyte's hand and saw a pistol in his hand. Ratchet's face turn to confusion as did everyone else. That turned to fear once he pointed it at Momus's head. "I'm finally getting to kill you."

"Woah! Woah." Momus shouted, putting his hand up. "Hey, I don't know what I did, but put the gun down."

"Shut up!" he yelled, keeping it aimed at his head. When he did that, Landed slipped by him and made his way out of the door, probably to get one of the guards. Handbrake was inching closer, hoping stop him.

"Look… what did I do? I never hurt you!" he told him, afraid.

"Look at me? Don't I look familiar? Just imagine if I was blue," he told him. Momus looked confuse until he looked at him more closely.

"Wait… you look like the person who worked at the cryolabs. The one who killed Sherma!" he realized.

"Yeah… you're the reason he got sent to prison!" he shouted, keeping it trained on him.

"He broke the law and killed my fellow Senator!" he shouted at him.

"It was an accident," he growled.

"He still cause someone to die. He had to be punished for it," he told him.

"He was going to get the minimum sentence until you stepped in and got him the maximum sentence. He would've been out of prison when the bomb's dropped if it wasn't for you. He could've got sent to one of the vaults!" he ranted at him. "You killed him. Now I'll kill you." Ratchet jaw dropped as he watched the scene. This wasn't happening, was it? But as he stood there as Pyrobyte prepared to kill him, he realized that this was real.

Something moved from the corner of his optics and he saw Handbrake rushed over and leapt onto Pyrobyte. He saw this and tried to fir, but was smashed into before he could push it and his aim was off when he fired.

*Crack*

"Gah!" Momus shouted as he grasped his chest and rolled away from the struggling couple, an energon stain on the wall. Ratchet moved quickly and went to the struggling duo while First Aid and Lightstep went to help Momus. Sunspot just stayed in his chair, unsure of what to do. Ratchet moved forward and held onto his shoulders as Handbrake grabbed for the gun. Pyrobyte reacted by thrusting his head back and smashing it into Ratchet's chin, causing him to let go and held onto it. He grunted, ignored the pain, and tried to help Handbrake.

*Crack Crack*

"Guah," he heard Handbrake as Pyrobyte got back up and aimed it at Ratchet. Handbrake was on the floor, covering his chest where two bullet holes were, both near the spark. He would probably die if he didn't get medical help quickly, but he was in no room to do so with Pyrobyte aiming the gun at him.

"Ratchet, you really shouldn't have help that fragger," he growled at him as he aimed the gun at him.

"In here!" he heard Lander shouted and Pyrobyte face lit up in fear. The guards were going to be packing as well. They would put a stop to him quickly unless…

Pyrobyte moved forward, keeping the gun trained on Ratchet, as he got behind him and grabbed him by the neck and held the gun against his head. Derve and Joor went in, guns drawn, and aimed in his and Ratchet's direction.

"Pyrobyte, let him go," Derve asked

"No, leave you scum," he said, pushing it against Ratchet even harder, causing him to have to tilt his head painfully.

"Where the frag did he get a gun?" Joor asked Derve. "He shouldn't have one."

"That doesn't matter right now," Derve said as he continued to talk to him. "What is it that you want?"

"To kill Momus," he shouted. Momus and the other two were hiding behind cover, tending to him while Sunspot still sat in the chair, having no idea what to do.

"Well, we can't allow that, can we," Joor said to him, trying to get a clear shot.

"Pyrobyte, just give up. You can't kill Momus, so just let us take you to a cell," he told him. Pyrobyte gritted his denta and thought things through. Momus was already injured and could've been suffering a fatal wound. A good doctor could save him. The best doctor was his hostage…

He smirked and took his gun off Ratchet's head. He walked to Ratchet's side, still keeping the gun on him, his hand around his neck, and the finger on the trigger. "You know, you might be right. Momus is already suffering from a severe wound, so he might die anyway. But just to make sure…," he moved the gun and placed it at his own head with Ratchet's head right next to him. Ratchet's gasped at his insanity. He was going to commit suicide and take Ratchet with him. The two guards had their jaws dropped, before they took aim, trying to stop him.

*Crack* *Crack* *Crack*

Ratchet's felt a sudden, sharp pain in the side of his head, his vision going black, and he collapsed to the ground.