Iacon Wasteland

Ratchet onlined to a haze. His field of vision was filled with so much static that he could hardly see what was in front of him, although it didn’t help that he was facedown. The ground below him felt so soft that it might’ve been nonexistent. Because of that, he moved his limbs to help him stand up and immediately groaned in pain as he did so, his joints crying out at him for daring to move. He gave up and continued to lay on his back at Primus knows where and try to remember what had happened to him. He remember meeting up First Aid and everyone else at the Science Lab, they said they could… do something and then Pyrobyte entered the room and… also did something. He couldn’t quite get all the details. Since he wasn’t thinking straight, he tried getting up again, almost getting on his knees before his joints gave out and he collapsed to the floor again in pain. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Hey! Calm down. Don’t rush it,” he heard a voice said and heard someone running up to get next to him. He saw the person in his field of view and tried to determine who it was, but the static in his vision was obscuring too much of them. “Are you alright?” the person asked in a distorted voice, most likely having to do Ratchet’s own audio sensors not working properly. He felt the person move his arm around and wrapped it around the person’s shoulders and began pulling Ratchet up. Ratchet worked with the person, trying his hardest to move along with them, getting on his knees pretty easily. Getting on his feet was a bit harder, as he felt his ankle joints want to give out as he rose up, despite the other person giving all they got. Eventually, he was on his feet and he rested against the person’s shoulders.

“Thanks,” Ratchet said in a ragged breathe as he tried to get a good look at his helper’s face. The static was still in his way, but it was dissipating quickly, and he could soon start seeing the person’s face, revealing itself to be a very familiar face. “Pyrobyte?” Ratchet asked.

“Hey, Ratchet. Good to see you remember me,” he greeted with a smile. Ratchet could see that he was a bit worse for wear, having a few dents, cuts, and rust marks, with one rather nasty one on the right side of his head, but was otherwise looking very good and healthy. Ratchet took this chance to look around. It appeared to be a rundown medical center’s lobby, seeing the walls painted a sterile white with chairs spread out and the surrounding covered with various things such as energon, grime, and explosive residue, with some of the walls chipping off or having holes and a part of the ceiling caved in, the pieces next to Ratchet. The only light from the room came from the flashlight on his pistol and, the windows in the front, and one light in the center.

“Where… *Cough Cough* …where are we?” Ratchet asked, his voice a bit hoarse, he realized. Some of the air must’ve been bad and rusted his voice box slightly.

“Periphery Heights Medical Center. Don’t you remember it? You’re very familiar with it,” he asked. Ratchet looked around, taking it in. The Octagonal shape of the room, the circular shape of the reception desk in the center, the high-quality desk and chairs, the multiple TVs and HVs… yeah, this was Periphery Heights Medical Center alright. It reeked of opulence.

“Yeah… sorry. It looks like a battle happened in here. Almost unrecognizable,” he muttered.

“It’s alright,” he said, looking around.

“Why… are we not in the bunker?” Ratchet asked. “Isn’t it deadly out here?”

“What, you don’t remember?”

“The last thing I remember… was Lightstep saying she had big news and I met with her in the Science Lab along with some others. She was about to give the big news and then… I can’t remember what she said. You entered and then… I can’t remember anything else after that,” Ratchet told him.

“Huh. That piece of the ceiling must’ve hit you in the head so hard, it done something to your memory banks. Lightstep said we could leave the bunker due to the low radiation levels and we could start sending exploratory units out. I came in to see why everyone was in the lab. Me and you got paired up,” he told him.

“Ah… makes sense,” Ratchet murmured as he rubbed his head and sure enough, there was a well-sized dent on the right side of his head. He looked over himself and saw that he too had cuts, dents, and rust spots all over his body. “Why are we here?”

“To get medical supplies, of course,” he told him. “Damn, you really got hit hard by the ceiling if you can’t even figure that out.”

“Right… stupid question,” Ratchet muttered as he pulled himself away from him and started standing up on his ow. He wobbled a bit, but balanced himself easily. “There. I think I can walk.”

“Where’s your gun?” he asked.

“Gun?”

“Yeah. Radiation’s gone, but that doesn’t mean there are no threats,” he told him.

“Yeah… good point. Maybe it’s under that debris?” Ratchet recommended, pointing to the ceiling debris.

“Yeah… most likely,” he agreed, making his way over there and began searching. Ratchet stumbled on over to the reception desk and leaned against it as he searched. Ratchet gave a sigh as he thought about what he said. It made sense, but it didn’t quite all gel. Why only send two in a group in unknown and possibly dangerous territory, especially when one of them was a medic whose only combat situations was target practice in an empty room with Swindle and a pistol. He isn’t some sort of hardcore soldier who could take on whole platoons of soldier.

“Are you the new doctor?” a new voice asked and Ratchet looked up to see someone who definitely wasn’t there before. He was a clean, pristine mech with white all around him except for black going down the center of his libs and the center of his mouth and bright, white optics, with a datapad in one hand and his other on the computer in front of him. He spoke with an air of arrogance befitting of someone who lived in Periphery Heights. At least, he would be, if the place… wasn’t… destroyed.

Ratchet heard the sound many people talking and looked around to see a bunch of people around the area, some talking to the other receptionist, some standing around, some sitting in their chairs, and others entering and exiting the doors. The walls, floors, and ceiling were immaculate, sparkling under the incandescent lights. Nothing in the room looked like it had even a scratch on it. Needless to say, Ratchet was gob-smacked. “What the… how the,” said, looking around, causing the receptionist to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Ah, I see, you’re a patient, right?” he asked.

“Uh, no, no,” Ratchet replied, turning back to him. “I am a doctor and I’ve come to work for you.” If he was correct, he was probably relieving a memory. That happens when you hit your head on the ceiling. “Name’s Ratchet.”

“Let’s see,” he said, looking through his computer. “Ah, yes, here it is. From Eastside? How interesting. First the one from the Dead End and now you,” he said. He was eyeing him like he was some sort of alien.

“Uh… yes,” Ratchet answered.

“Damn… you must be really impressive with those hands and brain of yours if they want you to work here with such a lowly status,” he muttered, leaning into get a better look at him. Ratchet looked down at himself to find that most the cuts, dents, and rust spots were gone, leaving only a small scrape on his left arm. “Well, you definitely look like you came from there. That scrape, the lack of shine to you, the dent in your head.” What? Ratchet felt the side of his head and felt the exact same dent there. The receptionist leaned back before inputting a couple of things in the computer and started walking out of the desk. “Follow me.” He walked to the door at the back and Ratchet followed along, not wanting to get left behind. He noticed that the model walked exactly like he was on a runway.

“What’s your name?” Ratchet asked, trying to remember it. He met him before, but he couldn’t quite remember where.

“The name is Couture,” he said. “Remember that. Or don’t. I always like saying my name,” he said, reading the datapad.

“Couture. Yeah, right,” Ratchet muttered, his identity coming to him. Arrogant bastard. Needed his ego skewered. Nothing unique about that. All the assholes in Periphery Heights needed that. He worked a side job as a model for advertisements.

“Perhaps you might remember me from my recent work modeling for Polyhep’s buffers,” he flaunted, confirming his thoughts. He didn’t turn to him, but Ratchet could tell by the shift of his head that he wanted validation.

“Oh, yeah. Thought I recognize you. You did very nice with that,” Ratchet said and he could see the barest hint of a smile on him as they opened the door and entered the hallway. It was a regular, expensive looking one with an intersection and doors on the sides leading to various check-up rooms. At the end of the hall was an elevator.

“I think I’ll like you,” he said and Ratchet only roll his optics. Someone like him saying they like you was inconsequential. Just pay someone like him a compliment and they’ll like you. He didn’t even considered Ratchet a friend. Just someone to give him an ego boost. Still, better to have allies than enemies.

“So, a model like you must hate something like this,” Ratchet muttered. He couldn’t quite remember much about him, but he probably hated doing this.

“Oh no, I love it. It involves my favorite action, talking,” he told him. “That and I’m actually a decent organizer. I can get a schedule sorted out quickly. ”

“Always useful skills for a receptionist,” Ratchet complimented.

“Indeed,” he said as they crossed the intersection. “How many years have you had?”

“40,000,” Ratchet told him.

“Experienced. Good. People new to their jobs are always a bane,” he scoffed, putting his datapad up. “Now, just to make sure, you didn’t bribe anyone to giving you this job, right?”

“No, of course not! How dare you insinuate that,” Ratchet growled.

“Well, you’ll be able to soon,” he said, turning to him with a wide, beautiful smile that only a model could give. “Trust me, once the money rolls in, make use of it. You have it for a reason.”

“Good to know.”

“Either that, or use it to pay Knock Out for a makeover. I’m sure he could work wonders on your frame,” he said, looking him over. “You could use some trimming and maybe some new legs, but not those hands. They do look immaculate on you.”

“I’m fine. I need these to save lives,” he answered, insulted. “Thanks for recognizing the useful of the hands.”

“Shame. The rest of you could look as good as those hands.” They reached the door and he pushed it, opening the doors. The two entered the wide elevator and he pushed the button to the top floor. “Administration,” he answered as the door closed. He waited for the elevator to start moving, but didn’t hear it move. “If you’re listening for the elevator, you can’t. It’s silent.”

“Ah, yes. Very good,” Ratchet murmured, a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah, travels fast and silently. Such a wonderful thing,” he agreed. It wouldn’t be long until they reached the top of the building. “Listen, considering where you’re from, expect them to give you a hard time. Don’t do anything stupid.” Ratchet looked over at him and nodded.

“Thanks for the advice.”

“Its common sense,” he said as the elevator opened and a light shone in Ratchet’s face. He turned to see Pyrobyte looking at him with his mouth opened in confusion.

“What the frag is wrong with you?” he asked. “You just walked off into the dark by yourself and made your way to the elevator.”

“Um…,” Ratchet muttered, looking around to see the elevator was damaged and dirty and the hallway was so dark that he couldn’t see anywhere.

“Are you okay?” Pyrobyte asked. Ratchet knew he wasn’t, but it wasn’t hurting him yet.

“Yes, I’m fine. Did you find my gun?” Ratchet questioned.

“Yeah… here,” he said, withdrawing the gun and handing it to Ratchet. He grabbed it and turned the flashlight on, allowing another light source for them. “Alright, now let’s look through these rooms. We should be able to find items to use here,” he said as he moved to let Ratchet through. He did so, stepping out into the dark hallway and walked through it with Pyrobyte at his side.

“So, how many people have we encountered since stepping outside?” Ratchet asked.

“None so far. No sign of life anywhere around us, which we kind of expected. We’ve found scraps of bodies, but that’s it,” he told him as they walked down the hall to the intersection. “Do you know where the stairs are?”

“Yeah, should be over there,” he said, pointing his gun to the left, “and over there,” he added, pointing to the right, which was blocked off halfway through the hallway with debris. “That way won’t work.”

“Obviously,” Pyrobyte scoffed. “So, you think the bottom floor will have anything worth taking?”

“Well, we didn’t bring any bag with us, did we?” Ratchet asked. He shook his head no. “Then if we want to take the most valuable stuff with us, we have to go up the stairs to the… third floor. I think that’s where the surgery department is.”

“Alright, to the stairs then,” he said, walking down the unobstructed hallway, Ratchet at his side. The two walked slowly, walking over any debris that happened to be in their way. The two arrived at the door and opened it manually, due to the power being out. Pyrobyte jerked it opened and the two began walking up the stairs. They got to the second floor without a hitch, but the third floor was blocked off by a collapse stairway from the fourth floor.

“Alright. Slight complication. We’ll have to cross the second floor to the other set of stairs,” Ratchet told him.

“What’s on the second floor?” Pyrobyte asked as they made their way down.

“Offices and the coroner for dead patients,” Ratchet told him.

“There might be something there for us,” Pyrobyte muttered. “Let’s take a look.”

“Alright. I’ll take the morgue and you take the offices,” he ordered.

“Alright. Be careful,” Pyrobyte said as they entered the second floor and separated, Pyrobyte going right for the offices and Ratchet going left for the morgue. He entered the wide doors and began looking around. The room had a bunch of drawers for bodies and an autopsy table in the center, with an island off to the side with cabinets of chemicals, tubes, jars, and other such items for autopsy. The place was dusty and was in shambles, with the walls and ceiling peeling off in decay and discolored. Ratchet moved quickly to the island and began searching around the area. He found a few stimpaks in the drawers as well as a bag of medical tools that he could use later.

“Hey, get over here,” a voice said and Ratchet halted and looked around. Once again, the place looked better, although the place wasn’t as spic and span as the lobby considering it was the morgue. It didn’t have to look pretty. He turned around to see a black colored bot with red optics looking over a dead body on the autopsy table. Ratchet looked around nervously before walking over and looking down at the body. The body in front of him was a yellow-blue-and-black bot with his chest opened up with a retractor for him to look at his organs. “I know this the first patient you lost here, but don’t back out like a coward.”

“I’m sorry, uh…,” Ratchet stumbled, not remembering who he was.

“Flatline,” he muttered before he pointed out the dead body’s spark. “He suffered from a zero point. You had no chance of saving him. Once he was in the coma, nobody in the whole world could.”

“Zero point…,” Ratchet muttered. “Those are rare.”

“Extremely rare. One in every 100,000 Cybertronians suffer from it. It’s virtually impossible to detect and by then, it doesn’t matter. You might as well get the pede tag ready,” he muttered. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, um, I’m fine,” Ratchet muttered.

“The first patient you lose is always the hardest,” Flatline said.

“He’s not my first,” Ratchet immediately answered.

“He is in this hospital. Every hospital feels like a different experience," he said as he pulled the retractor out and began closing the body, grabbing a welder and piecing it back together. “So, are you enjoying your time here?” he asked and Ratchet was momentarily caught off guard. He didn’t seem like one for small talk.

“Uh, yeah, it’s fine,” Ratchet muttered.

“Really? Because you don’t fit very well here,” he muttered. “You’re so much different from the other people working here. You’re like me. A lower-ranking person in a higher living place. We’re out of place here.”

“Yes… we are,” Ratchet muttered, crossing his arms and pondering it. “We were both picked to be here because we’re exceptional in our chosen profession.”

“You, maybe. Me? They just need a placeholder and the rich people here don’t like looking through a dead body. They think it’s useless and beneath them. Hmph,” he muttered as he finished and placed the welder to the side and walked on over to a slab and opened it, a cloud of cold air coming out of it. “Help me move the body. Grab the legs,” he said as he moved back and grabbed the shoulders. Ratchet nodded and grabbed the body by his ankles. “1, 2, 3, let’s go.” The two both pulled and quickly moved the body to the slab and placed it roughly on it. He closed it and went to a datapad at the autopsy table and began inserting information in it.

“So, with a name like Flatline, it sounds like you were made for this job,” Ratchet said, walking on over to him.

“In a way. That’s just the natural pessimism of living in the Dead End,” he told him, not taking his attention.

“What’s it like, being created in the poorest section and having a job in the highest section?” Ratchet asked.

“Nothing special. Just a much higher paycheck and a different set of psychosis: narcissism,” he told him, finished with his datapad and looking back up at him. “Where are you from?”

“Eastside,” Ratchet answered immediately.

“The most middle-of-the-road of the districts. You must be an anomaly there in terms of talent with your hands,” he said, looking at his hands.

“That is my most liked feature. Even Couture likes it,” Ratchet told him.

“Hmm, I was right,” he muttered as he started walking for the door. “Your hands are an anomaly.”

“And you think you’re a placeholder.” Ratchet muttered, walking next to him.

“It’s just a fact of my life,” he said as he opened the door.

“What have you found?” Pyrobyte asked as he left the offices. Ratchet looked at him and then back where Flatline once was.

“Uh, well… I found stimpaks,” Ratchet answered, walking back over to him. “You?”

“I found some shanix and a crummy pistol. Looked like it could work,” he told him.

“Good job. I got some stimpaks and that’s it” Ratchet complimented as he looked around. “There’s the stairs. Let’s keep going up.” He said, nodded his head at the door to the stairs.

“Alright,” Pyrobyte agreed and the two of them moved to the door and entered the staircase. They entered the dark area and began climbing up the stairs swiftly to the third floor. Ratchet felt slightly unnerved, trying to figure out why his mind was so jumbled up and these constant hallucinations that popped up and changed with how he reacted to it. He must admit, Pyrobyte was unusually friendly. He started out friendly, but quickly become one of the more sullen people there. Maybe fresh radioactive air was all he needed to brighten up.

The two entered the next area and found a bunch of intersecting hallways with surgical rooms. The area was just like the other floors, decaying and coming apart. As the two walked, they felt the floor slightly shift a bit under their feet, meaning that it might come apart sometime soon. “We should be quick,” Ratchet recommended.

“I agree. Let’s split up. You take left and I’ll take the right,” Pyrobyte said as he went off to search the area. Ratchet entered the closest room and began looking through the room, finding some med-x in there. The casing wasn’t broken, so they were likely still good and Ratchet store them in the pockets of his hip’s metal plating. He searched at the back and found another bag of doctor’s tools and brought that with him as well. The remaining surgical rooms went quickly and he found some more med-x and stimpaks to add to his inventory and nothing else.

After that, he arrived at the last room and opened it into a resting room for surgeons to relax after surgery. The cushy chairs were molded and looked ready to collapse if anyone took a seat on them. The dispenser for energon was completely empty, needing to be restock. He could see a table at the back where people can play holographic games against each other. Ratchet could already guessed that nothing was going to be found here, but he looked around anyway, just to be sure. Not searching every bit of it would be bad because you might miss something important. Searching through the chairs yielded nothing important except some chump change stuck in the seats. The energon dispenser yielded similar results, having nothing inside it and with nothing around it. He checked the table and looked around it and once again found nothing. Ratchet gave a disappointed huff and leaned against the table. Overall, nothing important. Scavenging in the post-apocalypse world was tiresome.

“Why are you messing around with that?” he heard someone asked and turned to see a red bot with a white secondary colors on him and red optics. His design was very fashionable, designed to call attention to every part of him. Even though Ratchet hadn’t talk to most of the people at this hospital in a long time, he could instantly put a name to him.

“Nothing, Knock Out,” Ratchet answered, walking away from the table and towards the other doctor.

“Good. I would really hate for you to have fun when I’m on the verge of losing my medical license,” he grumbled, leaning forward in agitation.

“Yes, how… tragic,” Ratchet murmured, walking over and standing over him. He was trying to remember exactly why Knock Out was losing his license. If he was correct, it was a medical screw-up of some sort, although what, he couldn’t exactly remember.

“It was a one-in-a-million chance. It never happens, but that stupid dead idiot never got a medical check-up. How was I supposed to know about him being allergic to anesthesia?” Knock Out asked, shaking slightly. “Frag, he just started coughing energon out of his mouth, worst of it all on my fragging paint job!” he yelled. Ratchet couldn’t tell if Knock Out was just being his usual self or he was trying to deflect all of his feelings by concentrating on the small things. With him, Ratchet could never know.

“It was something you couldn’t have prepare for. If I was on the board, I wouldn’t take your license,” Ratchet comforted him.

“You were in Westside. It’s a lot different here. Having one patient die under your care due to complications during surgery could end up getting you blackmarked from the entire community. And let me tell you, getting blackmarked here gets you blackmarked in the entire city. Frag, it might even follow you into another city,” Knock Out ranted.

“That seems… exceptionally harsh,” he muttered.

“We’re in Periphery Heights. The best of the best. Bad things don’t happen here. One screw up and you’re done,” Knock Out growled, turning to him. “Where were you?”

“Huh?”

“He was supposed to be yours, but you weren’t around. What were you doing so I know what my job was worth,” Knock Out continued to question him.

“I, um…,” Ratchet murmured, rubbing the back of his head. He couldn’t remember. It’s been such a long time. Knock Out continued to glare at him before turning away, looking down at the ground.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m done,” Knock Out muttered, slumping back into the chair defeated. “I can tell it something not important, but I think I rather not know how low it was.” Ratchet grimaced at that. Knock Out had given up completely.

“Listen, Knock Out… I’ll try and see if any of my contacts have any room for you,” he tried to help him.

“Didn’t you listen? This will follow me wherever I go. Doesn’t matter how much they’re your friends, but the higher ups have power. I’m not getting a job in the medical field again,” Knock Out shot him down, leaning back in the chair.

“Well, how about modeling?” Ratchet recommended.

“I know I’m the best looking mech around, Ratchet, but the modeling industry is controlled exclusively by the people in Periphery Heights. That’s not happening,” he rebuked.

“Uh, well….” Ratchet had no idea what to do. He didn’t know what he could do for him. If he couldn’t work as a doctor or a model, Knock Out wouldn’t have a job and therefore no income, which meant he would lose his home. Ratchet wouldn’t let that happen. He thought it through, before he realized something.

“How about The Dead End?” Ratchet recommended.

“That sinkhole? Why?” Knock Out asked, looking up to him.

“That area has little to no doctors there. Even if they revoke your medical license, you could probably get a job there in the medical profession. They’re so desperate that they’ll take anybody that wants to work there, even a doctor who just lost his medical license,” ratchet told him.

“But… the money will be a lot smaller…,” Knock Out muttered.

“You won’t be able to get a job here. It’s best to take whatever money you got, vacate your home, and moved over there or one of the other districts. The surplus you got should be enough,” he told him.

“But… I’ll have less. I’ll have less money, less home, less everything,” Knock Out growled, looking back down at the ground.

“Yes, but you’ll be unique,” Ratchet told him.

“Unique?” he asked, hunching forward.

“Yeah… you’re not that important here, but imagine if someone of your status moved to The Dead End or somewhere else. You’ll be that talk of the area,” Ratchet tried to convince him. Knock Out looked unsure, scrunching up his face to think it through, but Ratchet had one other move to use. “If all else fails, at least you can safe in the knowledge that no one – and I mean no one – in the Dead End could ever hope to be as handsome as you are.” His optics brighten and he looked up at him, surprised.

“You’re right. None of them could ever look as good as me or be as good as a doctor as me… alright, it might work.” Ratchet murmured.

“So, you’ll take a job there?” Ratchet asked.

“I don’t know if I’ll lower myself to The Dead End, but I can see if I can get a job at one of the lower sections,” Knock Out said, a small smile on his face, although Ratchet could tell that he didn’t want to lower his current standard of living. “Thanks, Ratchet. You really don’t belong here.”

“Huh?” Ratchet asked.

“The people of Periphery Heights lacks a certain… comradery that the other districts have. We’re too self-serving to help each other. You definitely don’t belong here, you bleeding spark.”

“I’m not one. I just know talent when I see it and I don’t want to see it smother by a mistake that you couldn’t possibly anticipate,” he defended his action.

“Yeah, go ahead and make your excuse. It’ll definitely hide the fact that you’re trying to save my career,” he joked with him before relaxing in his chair again. “My advice? Once you make a lot of money, get out and go to somewhere where you belong instead of here. I bleeding spark like you will get chewed up and spit out here,” Knock Out recommended.

“I’ll consider it,” Ratchet nodded.

“Good. So, what exactly were you doing that cost me my job?” Ratchet thought it over. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it. It’s best to just dodge it in his hallucination.

“It’s… something I can’t tell you,” he told him.

“Huh… fine, guess I shouldn’t care about it. Once I’m out of here, you won’t see me again. Might as well not bother with someone expresses such large ambivalence from me,” he muttered.

“Yeah… I’m sorry for this. I never meant to cost you your job,” Ratchet told him.

“Nah, don’t worry about. One of us had to fall on the spear and it was me. If you were here, you would’ve fell on it and I would probably care less about you than you do for me. It would be wrong to hold a grudge just because you were busy with something. Yes, I’m upset and I’ll probably never meet my previously standard of living, but I’ll survive. Just need a good place and so many more cleaning supplies… those places are bound to be filthy,” Knock Out told him with a look of anxiety before adopting a more neutral look. “Anyway, I’ll be fine.”

“Look, if you need some place to stay while you’re out of a job, you could-”

“No, I’m not staying with you,” Knock Out told him immediately. “Look, you’re still the reason I’m losing my job, so it’s best if we just stay away from each other, okay?” Knock Out told him. Ratchet couldn’t help but feel disappointed at that, but he nodded.

“Alright,” Ratchet agreed. “If you think you can handle it.”

“I can,” he said, getting up. “Might as well head on out and get my verdict. Enjoy your day, Ratchet. I got a lot to do.” Knock Out headed out of the room, leaving Ratchet by himself. Ratchet gave a long sigh before he followed through the door into the dilapidated hallway, where Pyrobyte was waiting for him.

“Hey, it took you a while. Did you find anything great?” he asked him.

“Huh, well,” Ratchet muttered, looking back into the room where it was backed to being in ruins before turning back to him, “found some medical supplies and that’s it. Nothing we don’t already have.”

“Oh… that’s a disappointment,” he sighed. “That’s all I found anyway. Well, except for this one room I couldn’t get in.”

“You couldn’t get in a room?” Ratchet asked.

“Yeah… door still operational but it was locked. I’m not very good at hacking doors,” he told him, rubbing the back of his head. “You can take a crack at it if you want. You might be better than I am.”

“Sure, let me take a look at it.”

“Alright, take your best shot,” he said, walking through the hallway carefully with Ratchet right behind him, making sure there were no weaknesses in the floor of wherever they walked. The duo kept walking until they reached a room in the middle of a hallway, the panel to the right signaling it was still working through the emergency power. Pyrobyte pulled out a cylindrical device and handed it to him. “Here,” he said and Ratchet took it and looked at it. It was a cylindrical device with a sharp point protruding from it. “Jammed it into the bottom of the panel and see if you can get it open,” he said. Ratchet nodded and did so, causing a holographic screen to come up. Ratchet was a bit surprised, but kept calm, examining it. It was a bunch of codes and letters, occasionally forming words. He noticed that each of them formed a four letter word. “You got four chances to guest the right one. If you got a letter right, it’ll tell you how many, but not which one,” he instructed to Ratchet and he nodded examining them. The words he could see were:

Time, Rage, Year, Lame, Fame, Tray, Bill, Pain, Gimp, Imps, Nips, Trip, Till, Aims, Lane

Ratchet examined them and clicked the first one.

TWO OUT OF FOUR

Ratchet nodded and looked around to figure out which ones could possibly fit and figure the remaining ones were:

Lame, Fame, Gimp, Till, Aims

Ratchet examined the remaining ones and clicked on the first one again.

THREE OUT OF FOUR

That was enough for him. If it wasn’t lame, it was fame, so he clicked on it.

PASSWORD CORRECT

The words went away and the panel opened up, allowing them to op open the door. Ratchet pulled the cylinder out and gave it back to Pyrobyte, who looked stunned. “Damn, Ratchet. You’re a pro,” he said as he grabbed the cylinder backed.

“It wasn’t that hard. I don’t see why you had such a problem with it,” Ratchet murmured as he activated the commands on the panel:

OPEN DOOR

Ratchet pressed the single available command and the door opened, showing off a storage room full of boxes. The two of them searched through the boxes, trying to find anything of se. They found more Med-X as well as some stimpaks. The only thing they haven’t searched through was a locked box with a keypad for numbers. “Why is this box lock?” Pyrobyte asked, scratching his head.

“I don’t know, but it must be important f it’s locked. Got anything to break it open?” Ratchet asked.

“Hold on… I think this might work,” he said, pulling out a thin object with a hook at the end. “Here, it’s a lockpick. Put it into the energy spring. It should be a small little hole right… there,” he said, pointing to an small hole at the side with a light coming out of it. Ratchet slowly inserted it inside the energy spring until it reached the end, when a small holographic screen popped up, showing off a circle separated into two pieces and the center and the top of the circle had a glowing line at the four primary directions. “Alright… spin it around until the two points match. Be quick. Spend too long on it and the battery will die. It recharges if you crack it.” Ratchet nodded to him as he quickly got to work matching the two pieces together. This was an easy lock, most of them being to figure out that it doesn’t long. It came down to two possible choices for both circles and he quickly match the two of them together, the screen flashing green and approval and going away as he heard a click of the box unlocking.

“Got it,” Ratchet breathed out in relief as he pulled the object out and handed it back to Pyrobyte, who had a wide grin on his face.

“You’re a natural cracker, Ratchet. Are you sure you haven’t done anything like this before?” He asked as he grabbed it back.

“You just need to have brains and nerves of steel. A doctor and surgeon has plenty of both,” Ratchet murmured as he opened the box and showed off a couple of high-quality pistols, ammo for them, and a note. Ratchet grabbed the note and looked through it with Pyrobyte looking over his shoulders.

Hey, Tangiers. Left this for us in case something happens or if you want to take a crack at the dean of medicines project. She should have it in her desk. That auto-repair thing would be worth a fortune on the market.

“Well… that’s interesting,” Pyrobyte muttered. “That could be really useful for us back at our base. Where’s the Dean of Medicine’s Office?”

“Top floor, right above us,” Ratchet answered. “You want to try and get it?”

“Don’t you?” he asked as he grabbed a gun and examined it. “Wow. I’m not an expert, but this gun looks great.” Ratchet glanced at him before grabbing the pistol and examined it. The grip felt really comfortable and it had a very sleek design with high caliber bullets. IT must’ve been made for military use.

“It does look good,” Ratchet murmured as he detached the flashlight from his other pistol onto it and holster the old gun. He grabbed ammo as well as Pyrobyte and the two made their way out. “Alright, let’s head back to the stairs,” he ordered and the two of them quickly, but carefully made their way across the floor back to the dark stairwell. The two climbed up the stairs and reached the top of it. They opened the door to reveal a well-furnished lobby with ornate furniture and paintings on the wall barely lit up by emergency generators. To the left was a large reception desk made to handle several people and three doors on the left wall, Two on the right with a hallway, and one right across from them which likely led to the other staircase.

“Which door?” Pyrobyte asked.

“Middle on the left. Let’s go,” he said, leading the way. The two made their way across the room, past the broken reception desk, and to the middle door. They opened it to fine a small room with a desk off to the left side and chairs on the right side with a door across from them. The two of them quickly reached for the door and tried to open it only to find it locked. “Dammit.”

“You could pick it,” his partner recommended.

“Do you see an energy spring?” Ratchet asked him and Pyrobyte looked around and frowned.

“No….”

“Then we need the keycard,” Ratchet said as got behind the desk and began searching through it. “Come on, there has to be something here,” he muttered as he searched through the drawers, finding it to be mostly barren, until he found a note. He grabbed it and read it out loud to Pyrobyte.

Another week, another passcode. This week, it’s memory. Delete this after reading it

“Ah, thank Primus these people are sloppy,” Pyrobyte chuckled as he went to the door and inputted the code. The door gave a favorable click and Pyrobyte tried the door, opening it for them. The entered the room to find a large office with a desk and chairs in the room among the windows and drawers. The wall in front of them was a giant window that was blown out, showing off the destroyed landscape of Iacon to them. Pyrobyte closed the door behind them as Ratchet walked onto the end of the room and looked out to see the buildings around him crumbling, torn apart and blown opened, the streets littered with debris from the building and with vehicles and even a couple of ship, and the sky being a murky gray with the sun being unable to shine out.

“Wow… the city is in ruins,” Ratchet muttered.

“Yeah… that’s what happens in an apocalypse,” Pyrobyte muttered as he began looking through the desk. He pulled the drawers out completely and threw them aside when they had nothing. He kept up until he ran out of drawers and looked through the desk’s cabinets at the bottom. The first one revealed nothing, but the other one had a locked safe in it. “Found a safe.”

“Huh?” Ratchet muttered as he turned around to see the safe he was talking about, which looked to be a finger scanner.

“Well, we don’t have a finger to give it, so we’re going to have to crack it open at the energy spring,” he said, withdrawing the lockpicking device out and handing it to Ratchet. He glanced at it before taking it and walking over to the safe. He inserted it into the energy spring and the device came out, this time have five light lines for him to guide through three circles. Ratchet noticed the slight difficult spike, but paid no mind to it as he got to work on it, spinning the circles around for the answer. The timer for the battery was running down at a similar pace to last time, which meant he had to solve a more complicated puzzle with the same amount of time. How grand for him. He spin it around quickly, looking for the correct path to make five light lines. He kept calm, getting very close to solving it…

“Got it,” Ratchet murmured as he heard the safe unlock and withdraw the safe and opened it, revealing many datapads. He quickly looked at the title of them before finding one that says ‘Advanced Auto-Repair Technology’ and took that out and stand up. “I believe this is what we are looking for.”

“I believe so,” Pyrobyte said as he looked at it. “Quite nice. They’ll love this.”

“Yeah, I- Woah,” Ratchet yelled as he suddenly felt the room shake as him and Pyrobyte held onto the desk for dear life. The two of them heard something loud, almost like a building collapsing, as they held on. After a solid minute of holding on to the table, the shaking stopped and the two breathed a sigh of relief. “Where did that quake come from?” Ratchet asked.

“I don’t know,” Pyrobyte muttered, hunched over, trying to calm down. “That was intense.”

“No kidding,” Ratchet muttered as he opened the door. “Come on, let’s get… out of… what the frag?” Ratchet muttered as he looked out the door to more buildings of Iacon. He looked down to see most of the building had collapse, leaving him and Pyrobyte stuck up top.

“What?” Pyrobyte asked as he looked over him to see what happened. “Oh… wow. Looks like training’s over.”

“What does that- AH!” Ratchet yelled as he felt something push him and he fell forward into empty air. It was a quick fall before he fell on the edge of a ledge, smashing his chest into it, before he started falling again to the ground floor, smashing through the reception desk and smashing through it. Ratchet felt pain racked his body when he hit the ground and he gave a loud groan from the pain. He could practically feel his body dent inward and smash into his organs and crack his spinal shaft. He shutter his optics as he winced in agony. He didn’t want to fee anything. He just wanted to recharge and let the pain go away.

“Need help?” he heard a voice that he didn’t want to hear and turned his optics back on to see Pyrobyte crouched over him, looking him over.

“You… bastard,” Ratchet growled.

“Why… it’s all fake,” he said.

“Fake? Look at me!”

“What? I see nothing wrong with you.”

“Why you,” he said as he tilted his head forward. “Look at… that.” His body was undented, nothing on it to show that he fell on it.

“See? Nothing wrong with you,” Pyrobyte chimed, just a bit smug.

“What the…,” Ratchet muttered as he started lifting himself back up, sitting up straight and bending forward, wondering what was going on.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” he asked. Ratchet gritted his teeth as he looked back up again and thought things over. He feel down four stories unharmed due to Pyrobyte pushing him, but nothing felt wrong with him. It was all so… wait.

“How did you get down?” Ratchet asked.

“That’s is a good question,” he said, looking up. “I wouldn’t jump off that. Push you off, yeah, but I wouldn’t jump myself. So what does that mean?” he asked, and Ratchet could feel himself dying inside with each annoying word from him. What was he? He was Pyrobyte of course. An unstable individual without his twin to give him emotional support. He was so crazy that he entered the room and… and he shot Momus… and Handbrake… and….

“No…,” Ratchet muttered, the weight of the answer falling down on him. “You… you shot yourself… and the bullet traveled through your head… through mine.” He bent forward, bracing his hands against his legs. This didn’t make any sense. That would mean. “I’m dead.”

“No you’re not,” Pyrobyte scoffed, causing him look back up in shock. “You’re just in a coma. If you were dead, you would be face-to-face with Primus.”

“Coma?” Ratchet asked.

“Yeah… you’ve been in one for a while now. I’m guess you’re about to wake up,” he said.

“What? How could you- gah!” he yelled as he felt the ground shaking again and more buildings began to fall apart.

“That’s why?” he muttered, looking around. “Look, the sky is cracking.”

“What does that… what?” Ratchet murmured as he looked up at the sky to see a giant crack in it.

“Yeah, don’t worry. You’re waking back up. You’ll be fine,” he muttered.

“Then, what was the point of this?” Ratchet muttered.

“Training run. I want you get the hang of things when you enter the real world,” he answered.

“What?” Ratchet asked, getting back up on his feet. “What do you mean?”

“On my effects, you should find those hacking tools. Take them. Consider that an… apology for putting a bullet through you head,” he told him, sounding remorseful. “I… let my hatred of Momus take over me.” The ground shook again and rays of light started shining through to the ground.

“You… you,” Ratchet murmured.

“Hmm, I’ll be alone here without you. Good luck. You’ll need from what I’ve been hearing,” he said and Ratchet felt a shiver run through his spine.

“What does that mean?” Ratchet asked as the sky cracked open and light bathed him. As it covered him, he heard Pyrobyte say one last thing to him.

“Stay alive.”