A/n: Influenced by survive/horror movies like 28 Days Later and I Am Legend. I hope you enjoy. :)
First Aid hadn't been sure how he had ended up here, in the infirmary of the Autobot City. The last thing he remembered, truly remembered, was trying to help the humans from the infected Superion. After that, it had been nothing else but a string of images, hardly connected to the other, and yet one thing had stood out with absolute clarity: hate. It was like some sort of surreal dream from which he could not wake up and he had only escaped when someone – something? He wasn't sure – lifted that red veil from his optics and enveloped him reassuringly. Except the nightmare that had tormented him for Primus knew how long had only been replaced by another, much worse one. One where chaos and pain ruled.
"First Aid! Over here, man!"
First Aid responded to the call almost automatically, passing by the berths that were already occupied by injured Autobots, and approached Jazz. The saboteur was helping Inferno to walk, offering the larger mech his body for support.
"Show me where it hurts," First Aid said, already activating his scanner.
"Thigh joint," Inferno said tensely, though his optics kept drifting in every direction, looking for something. "Where's Red?"
"I haven't seen him yet," First Aid replied, focusing on his examination of the abused leg. "Hoist! See to Inferno's leg. The joint has been dislocated."
"Sure thing," Hoist said, approaching.
"First Aid!"
First Aid let Hoist and Jazz guide Inferno down on a chair, and he faced Cliffjumper. The minibot seemed agitated and worried as he walked up to the Protectobot.
"Pipes hasn't come back online."
"I know, Cliffjumper. Let him recharge; he needs it."
"Are you sure there's nothing wrong with him?"
"Positive. Now, please, go help Gears. We still have to find everyone that's been missing."
"We don't even know who's missing!" Cliffjumper said.
"You still need to find everyone you can," First Aid replied. In that moment, he caught sight of something yellow from the corner of his optic and he looked up. Sunstreaker had just walked in with his brother, both of them covered in scrapes and dents.
"Great. We've walked into a mad-house," the yellow Lamborghini commented.
"I'm afraid yes," First Aid said. "And you're the lucky ones," he added, looking at his scanner. From the look of things, neither of the frontliners was too badly hurt.
"If you consider lucky seeing your brother trying to choke you to death," Sunstreaker muttered.
"I said I was sorry," Sideswipe said, looking guilty.
"I wasn't talking just about me," Sunstreaker said, his clenched fists indicating he was feeling just as guilty.
First Aid stifled a sigh. Apparently, the Hate Plague, as everyone had started calling it – and, really, could it have been any more apt? – had managed to mess with all of them in more ways than one.
"Poor choice of words," he said apologetically, and then nodded in the direction of the Autobots that were lying in the medical berths. "Some of them are still awake. Go talk to them, see if they can remember seeing any mech who hasn't been accounted for yet."
"Us?" Sideswipe asked, practically blinking. "But we don't know how…"
"Look around you, guys," First Aid replied, pointing to the chaos that was ensuing just a couple of feet away from them. "We're so deep in it that it's a miracle we haven't drowned ourselves yet; I don't think anyone will accuse you for lacking bedside manners. Now, come on, get to it."
That, and the fact that things must have really looked bad for First Aid to actually start channeling Ratchet, convinced the twins. They set down to work, while the young medic continued making his rounds.
"First Aid…"
The medic stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder as he heard the familiar voice. Trailbreaker was indeed online, though his energy resources were all but depleted.
"Hey," First Aid said, walking up to the berth and holding Trailbreaker's hand. "Try not to exert yourself. You were in pretty bad shape when they found you."
"We're cured…" the larger mech said quietly.
"Yeah. Yeah, we are," First Aid said, nodding his agreement. "Thank Primus for that, huh?"
Trailbreaker nodded too, though the motion was weak and strained. "Where's Bluestreak?"
Now that was a question that First Aid hadn't expected to hear. "I don't know," he answered. "Why? What's the matter?"
"You mean… It wasn't him?"
"Him? What do you mean?"
Trailbreaker parted his lip components to reply, but he never had the chance to speak. In that moment, everyone in the medbay picked the sound of commotion and someone shouting in a panicked manner.
"I need a medic!"
First Aid didn't waste any time; he hurried up to the door to meet the panicked mech and offer his assistance. In the next moment, the door hissed open to reveal Tracks, scratched and dented in more than just several places. Just when the young medic was about to ask what was the emergency, however, he noticed what Tracks was holding in his arms: an offline Bluestreak, covered in fluid and his chassis torn apart, cables and wires hanging out of their places like gruesome tendrils.
"Primus above," First Aid breathed out in horror. He could even see the mech's spark through the ruptured chest plate, and the pulsating light was weak – too weak. "Get him to the life-support system, now."
"Where is that?" Tracks asked.
"There, the berth by the machines!"
Tracks nodded his compliance, moving as fast as he could without jostling his charge. As soon as he had placed him on the berth, First Aid grabbed the cables and started attaching them in every energy port he could find which hadn't been burned to a melting point or ripped out.
"What happened to him? Do you know?" he asked, even as he still worked.
"No idea," Tracks said. "I just found him and…"
"Bluestreak?"
Tracks and First Aid turned to the direction of the voice, seeing a shocked Sideswipe.
"Who did this to him?" the frontliner asked, confusion and dismay interlacing his tone.
First Aid sighed and returned his focus on the offline mech; there was a life at stake, and he couldn't afford to remain idle.
"I asked you a question, doc!"
"Would you rather I save him or play the twenty questions game?!" the medic snapped without even bothering to look back at the frontliner; he was too busy typing orders on the main computer. However, he did catch sight of Sideswipe ready to snap back at him, except Tracks stopped him at the last minute. First Aid wasn't sure what the Corvette whispered to the Lamborghini – the two of them didn't always see each other optic to optic, after all. Still, whatever it was, it had the power to convince Sideswipe to stand down.
Good. Perhaps now he could concentrate properly. This was no time for mistakes—
A chilling buzzing sound and a blackout cut into his train of thought instantly. Worse, First Aid realized that this had happened the moment he had pressed enter in order to activate the life-support system.
"Slag!" he exclaimed, and he immediately activated his radiotransmitter. "Hot Spot, what's going on?"
"Somebody tried to drain too much power, that's what happened!" Hot Spot replied.
"That somebody was me, and I need power to activate the life-support system!"
"No can't do! The generators are already operating at full-capacity!"
"Why can't Metroplex himself add to the power?" First Aid asked. Surely the gigantic robot had enough power to light things even without the use of generators…
"He's deactivated," Hot Spot replied. "And before you say anything else, no, I can't bring him back online; Rodimus is the only one who has the codes!"
"Then find him! I have a dying mech here… Damn it!" In that moment, First Aid saw that the spark grew dimmer. "Hurry!"
He didn't wait to hear for a reply. He deactivated the transmitter at once, his hands working fervently to override one crashing system after another, trying to somehow sustain the damage.
Yet the spark kept on waning, too weak to fight on its own after everything that happened…
