Ratchet was laying is the stands, dazed. He just stared at where the explosion was, trying to process all of it. That didn't happen. That shouldn't have happen. All of it so suddenly. And Blast Off was screaming in pain with his legs missing…
Ratchet shook his head before getting up and rushing down the stairs. There were a few other people screaming, but a single glance was enough to determine that Blast Off was the one the most likely to die if he didn't step in. Bumblebee was easily the one who took the least damage as a piece of shrapnel embedded itself in his shoulder. Knock Out took a bad blow from the explosion and he could see some shrapnel in his face and upper body. Hound up in the stands was the one that was really unlucky with debris impaling him through his body and large pieces of metal cutting through his left thigh and shoulder, but Blast Off was right in the apex of the explosion. As he jumped over the railing, he could see that both of his legs were blown off right at the middle of his legs, shrapnel all over his body, and several of his fingers. There was no question who he had to help first as he jumped off the railing and hurried on over to him.
"Blast Off, don't worry, I'm here," he tried to comfort him, which was meant with Blast Off continuing to scream in pain as he looked at him, begging with his optics to help him. "Hey, can anyone help me! I need to get him to the med-bay stat!"
"What has happened?!" he heard someone yell as Bludgeon came on over to him and took a look at Blast Off. "And how is he still alive?" he yelled in bewilderment.
"Bludgeon, help me get him to the Med-Bay! If we don't, he'll probably bleed out," Ratchet told him.
"Look, I came here to tell you something," he began to explain.
"Unless it's someone's life is in danger, it isn't important," Ratchet briskly blew him.
"That's the thing! Me and Wildrider found Dead End, still alive, in one of the operation rooms with his arm cut off!" Bludgeon told him.
"What?!" Ratchet questioned, thinking this through. Someone else was maimed that wasn't because of the bombing. How could the timing be possibly worst? As he thought it through, he went back into doctor mode. "Is it just the arm?" he questioned.
"Yes, but we have no idea how long he's been bleeding," he answered. "At most, it's probably been 15 minutes."
"Dammit. Look, help me out with Blast Off first and I'll deal with Dead End when I get there while you help out with the others," Ratchet told him.
"Right," Bludgeon nodded as he quickly lifted him up and headed to the Med-bay. As Ratchet was about to leave as well, he saw Jazz rushing over to him.
"Ratchet, what do you need us to do?" he quickly asked him, getting straight to the point.
"Right now, I need you to check on everyone injured to make sure if they're alright and attempt to lead them to the Med-Bay," he told him quickly.
"Right, I'll go check on Knock Out. Take care of Blast Off," he told him as he hurried off to Knock Out's location, who was still screaming for help. He got that out of his mind as he saw Smokescreen running down the steps of the announcer's booth and over towards Swindle. He ignored that as he headed out of the VOF and made his way into the Med-Bay. Inside, he could see Bludgeon had put Blast Off on the nearest slab to writhe about and he could see Dead End placed on a slab a bit away from him, indeed missing an arm and bleeding, with Wildrider next to him.
"Hey, doc, you're going to help him?" Wildrider questioned, indicating Dead End, who was awake.
"I'm fine Wildrider. Just head on out," the cynic said, sounding groggy.
"Dead End, shut up. You're getting checked out," he told him.
"I will once I help out Blast Off here. He's dealing with more than just a missing arm," Ratchet told him as he went to get a syringe of the anesthesia and headed on over to Blast Off. Wildrider glared at him before turning back to Dead End and keeping his head down, his back to them. Ratchet quickly injected it into him to calm his thrashing form at the neck. At that, Blast Off weak yells became louder as his body started calming down. "Blast Off, don't worry. It's just anesthesia to knock you out while I fix your wounds," he told him. Blast Off continued to struggle about before he grabbed a hold of Ratchet upper arm, staring at him with his orange optics in pain. "Blast Off, please calm down, it'll be- ugh!" he yelled as Blast Off coughed energon in his face before his arm went limped. Ratchet wiped the energon off his face before going over to check his pulse. After a minute, he sighed as he took it off and looked up at the digital clock.
"Time of death: 12:47," he murmured in regret. Bludgeon looked at him inquisitively and began to ask something when he heard something
*Ding!* *Dong*
"A body has been found. A quick period of investigation will occur before a class trial."
Bludgeon kept quiet at that as he realized that he was correct. There was no saving Blast Off. Ratchet got through it quickly and hurried on over to Dead End to assess the damage. Indeed, his arm was cut off at a little below the shoulder, leaving only a few severed wires behind that used to help connect it and a tourniquet right above the cutoff point. "What have you done?" Ratchet asked Wildrider.
"Nothing much," he muttered. "Just brought him in here."
"You didn't apply the tourniquet to prevent bleed out?" Ratchet questioned.
"Nah, that was already on him when we found him," he answered.
"I can confirm that," Bludgeon told him, walking over to the duo and standing over everyone with his arms crossed, upset at having to go to another trial. "I did found it odd, but it helped Dead End get through the bleeding. He was also briefly unconsciousness when we found him, but as you can see, he is up now."
"Huh, strange," Ratchet murmured before he grabbed a welder and went to work, only to have Dead End keepe him off with his one good arm.
"No, I'm fine," told him deliriously.
"Gah, Bludgeon, give me a shot of the anesthesia," Ratchet ordered and he did so quickly, rushing to grab a syringe before handing it off. Ratchet used it to at his neck as Wildrider kept his arm down. Dead End looked at Ratchet with a look of confusion on his face before his optics went out and he laid limp. Ratchet took a quick pulse to confirm he was still fine and went to work with the welder. After a couple of minutes, he was done closing the wound and took off the tourniquet before wrapping the stump in bandages to keep it safe from technopathogens. "Right, he should be good. Just let him heal and he'll be fine," Ratchet told him.
"At least that's one more person that we don't have to worry about," Bludgeon muttered.
"Correct, but that still leaves the others," Ratchet reminded them. "I'll have to prepare for them. Bludgeon, head on out and make sure everyone can get here where it's uncontaminated."
"Understood," he agreed, leaving the area. Ratchet left Dead End behind and prepared the slab for the next patient as Wildrider pace around nervously, muttering to himself. Ratchet guessed that he was wondering what happened to Dead End. He was too. Almost everyone was at the racetrack, so the actual number of people who could've done it was low. If anyone wanted to attack him, now was a terrible time. It didn't make sense to attack him now when so many people had alibis for the assault. It all made no sense.
"Holy scrap, Knock Out, you don't look good," Jazz muttered as he looked him over. His upper body had a bunch of burned marks and he had several wounds there from shrapnel. However, it wasn't as bad as his face as a large piece of metal embedded itself at his head from above the right optic down to the left side of his jaw. Not even a buffer could fix that if he survived that.
"Get me to the med-bay!" Knock Out could barely yell at him.
"Right, right," Jazz murmured as he grabbed his arm and put it over his shoulders and started lifting him up, which earned more yells from Knock Out.
"Stop, stop, stop!" he yelled and Jazz did so, laying him back down gently.
"Where does it hurt?" Jazz asked him, before adding hastily, "aside from the obvious."
"Ugh, my spinal strut. I think it's… slightly misaligned from the impact of the explosion. It'll right itself after a while, but for now, it makes… it extremely difficult to bend," he self-diagnosed himself under labored breathing. "You're going to have to either carry me under my back or get someone to help you carry me on both side."
"Can't I just-"
"No. Right now, it could… bend the wrong way to any wrong usage of it," he told him. "I recommend the latter form of carrying me."
"Alright, I'll go check on everyone else. See if I can find anyone to help out. Just-"
*Ding! Dong!"
"A body has been found. A quick period of investigation will occur before a class trial."
Jazz felt fear in his heart and he could see in Knock Out's optics that he was scared too. Someone had just died and they would have to go to another trial to fight for their lives. And the time they need to investigate it was being spent trying to make sure people didn't die from their wounds.
"Quick, hurry up-" Knock Out gave a ragged cough before speaking again, "before you have to investigate my death too."
"Right, moving," he told him as he headed on off to the nearest people, that being Smokescreen and Swindle. Swindle was laying against the crate that he was held in, his legs curled up with his arms wrapped around them, while Smokescreen was crouched next to him, trying to take care of him. "Hey, how are the two of you?" he asked them as he reached them.
"Swindle… isn't doing good," he told him simply, and Jazz could now hear Swindle chanting something to himself in a low tone.
"Can't feel him. Can't feel him. Can't feel him…," he repeated over and over to himself and Jazz realized exactly what he was implying. Blast Off…
"Smokescreen, try to take care of him. I believe he is grieving," he ordered the gambler.
"Right, I'll see what I can do. If you see Onslaught, send him over here. He could help out with Swindle," he told him.
"Right, I'll see if he's able to come," Jazz agreed as he walked off back to the stands to check on everyone. He could immediately see that several people who were tending to Hound, and Onslaught was sitting, looking defeated, with Beachcomber next to him, trying to comfort him. And coming towards him was Skywarp, looking extremely ticked, holding something in his hand.
"Who the frag would place a bomb at the racetrack?!" he yelled out, and Jazz finally noticed that it was Laserbeak in his hands, one of his wings severed halfway through with energon dripping from it.
"How's Laserbeak?" Jazz asked, looking him over.
"Fine enough. It didn't hit anything major, but if someone doesn't fix this wound soon, his ability to fly will definitely be hampered. Trust me, that happened to me once and it was a glitch to get back in the thick of things and fly straight," he told him
"Well, Ratchet is in the med-bay right now," he answered.
"Right, I'll head there right now," Skywarp told him.
"Wait," Jazz halted him, thinking of something. "You think you can take Knock Out with you?"
"Knock Out? What about him- ooooh yeah," he cringed when he saw him. "Alright, I'll see if I can get him there. No need to have any more casualties."
"Good. Head on out," Jazz ordered and Skywarp did so, heading on over to Onslaught and Beachcomber. He climbed up the stairs and walked on over to the two at the front near the center. "Hey, Onslaught, are you okay?" he asked him and was met with silence as he kept his head down.
"He's… not doing well," Beachcomber told him. "Lack of recharge and Blast Off's… you know has really gotten to him." Jazz sighed at that. Of course, he would be affected Blast Off's death as well. He wanted to give him time to grieve, but right now, Swindle needs him and vice versa.
"Onslaught, listen to me," Jazz ordered, grabbing his head to make him stare at him, surprising the commander. "Right now, Swindle is catatonic and needs you support. You two are the only ones of your gestalt left and you need to take care of each other."
"Why?" he questioned him, his tone surprising the spy. He sounded so helpless. "I've failed. All I've done since I've been here is the perfect example of a failure. Every plan I've had has failed. Most of the people I've cared for has died. One of them I convicted after he murdered the other, the only thing you could possibly say I've done right, since it was either Brawl or everyone else. Even then, maybe I should've let him go. That way, at least one of us would've made it out of this alive." Holy. Frag. Onslaught was so guilt-ridden over the whole thing. Still, there had to be something to get him back, at least temporarily.
"So, you're just going to sit there while Blast Off's killer walks around among us," Jazz accused him, gaining Onslaught's attention. "They're around here, faking their sympathy, helping out, while they're the one responsible for all of this. Do you really want him to get out for killing Blast Off?"
"I don't know, maybe?" Jazz was disappointed by his answer. "I don't see the point in trying to figure it out. Knowing my luck, I bet Swindle actually planted the bomb and-"
*Clang!*
A loud noise rung out as Beachcomber slapped Onslaught across the face harshly, surprising both of them. He's never been one for violence. "Are you serious? Have you paid any attention to how Swindle has been acting these past few days? That Jazz said he was catatonic? Do you really think he could kill someone and live with the guilt of it?" Beachcomber bluntly asked him. He gazed at the small, angry geologist in shock at his confrontational nature.
"Uh, well, um, he could, uh, possibly, uh," Onslaught fumbled with his words only to meet with an even more intense glare from the small bot. "Alright, fine, I don't think he planted it, but he did knew about it."
"Hmm, that is right," Beachcomber muttered.
*Crack!*
Said crate had its top broke open and Swindle emerged from it, leaning over the side, not looking very good.
"What the fuck!" They heard Smokescreen shouting over the speakers as was the general thought of everyone as they were all stunned at his sudden. All except for a couple.
"Swindle!" Onslaught shouted as he got up before collapsing forwardonto the railing. Blast Off knew that lack of recharge was finally getting to him and he need to go get some sleep soon rather than continuing physically exerting.
"Onslaught, sit down. I'll get him," Blast Off said as he pulled him off the railing and jumped off. He walked over to him, walking over the white line, as Swindle looked on up, fear in his optics.
"No, don't! Bo-"
*Boom!*
"It did sounded like he was going to say bomb," Jazz agreed. "The only way we can know for sure is to get him out of his catatonic state."
"Ugh… I'll go check on him, see if I can get him to speak up," Onslaught confirmed, standing up. "Might as well see if I can do something right?" He headed on out of the stands, leaving the two behind.
"I'll stick with him, make sure he doesn't get completely cynical," Beachcomber told Jazz as he headed out.
"Right, good. He sounds like he's going to need it," Jazz agreed as the two separated and he headed on to the largest group. He could see Rewind, Mixmaster, and Scavenger crowded around Hound, trying to help him out. It was hard to move him from his seat thanks to the metal rod impaling him through the upper left side of his chest. If he had to guess, it probably came from the racetrack. Along with that, his left shoulder and thigh were bleeding quite severely from metal pieces going through them. "Wow, Hound, you don't look good," Jazz murmured when he saw him.
"No scrap!" Hound yelled out harshly to him in pain. He was gripping the metal rod in pain with his right hand while his left was limp.
"I sent Bumblebee to get some welders, cutters, cauterizers, and bandages from the Med-bay. Getting him off the rod will be dangerous, especially as he's still bleeding," Mixmaster told him. "We have to close his wounds before we get it out, otherwise we risk him bleeding from so many areas."
"Yeah. I don't know how good I am, but I believe I can do it," Scavenger told him.
"Please, you have to! We can't let him die like this," Rewind shouted at him.
"Way to not make me nervous," he muttered, wringing his hands nervously.
"Sorry," Rewind muttered guiltily, scratching the back of his head, which intrigued Jazz.
"Rewind, how are you feeling?" Jazz asked him, making him confused.
"Huh, why are asking that?" he wondered.
"You seem to be acting a little guilty," he told him.
"It's because I pushed him out of the way of the debris," Hound answered him. "When the explosion happened, I instinctively pushed him behind the stands, getting these wounds for my trouble."
"Well, you did risk yourself to save my life. Now look at you," Rewind reminded him.
"This rod in me was aiming for your head! If I didn't move you put of the way, this rod would've taken your head off," he responded quickly.
"I still should've been able to protect myself. Not get you injured because you're saving me," Rewind ranted, disappointed in himself.
"Hey, everyone!" Bumblebee yelled as he came on over to the group with the welders, forceps, and bandages and placed them on the seats for them to use. Scavenger quickly grabbed a welder and a role of bandages and got to work closing his thigh wound, which was slightly bigger. AS he was getting to work, Jazz walked on over to Bumblebee, who was busy patching himself instead, having a forcep in his hand as he was about to dig through his wound.
"Thanks Bumblebee. Good thing you are fast," Jazz murmured.
"Yeah," he muttered as he inserted it into the wound and cringed slightly from it.
"Woah, woah, you should let Ratchet look at that," Jazz advised him.
"Nah, I can handle it. Not the first time I've had to patch myself up in the field," he replied as he digged through the wiring and energon until he happened upon it. Bumblebee gritted his denta as he tugged it out, revealing a piece of energon-stained metal followed by a piece of glass and place them beside of him. "Right, time to shut it."
"Wait, let me do it," Jazz said as he grabbed the wlder and went to work on his shoulders. Bumblebee stayed quiet, only humming in pain as he closed it. After that, Jazz grabbed the bandages and quickly wrapped him up. "There you go, all better."
"Thanks," Bumblebee thanked him as he relaxed in his seat, looking around suspiciously.
"Are you okay?" Ratchet questioned.
"Yeah, I'm just wondering, who would do this?" Bumblebee asked, confused. "I can get plain old-fashioned murder, but bombing? This is like a terrorist attack, not a murder."
"I don't know," Jazz murmured. "Opportunity, maybe. They learned about the race and got an idea in their head to take out Blurr or Knock Out with it."
"Yeah. Instead, Blast Off got hit with it instead," he murmured, looking disgusted. "You don't want to see what the bomb did to him. It's in the Med-Bay." It. Confirming he was dead. "They probably wanted to scare everyone too. Seriously, look at all the injuries we got. Add in Dead End's injuries, and it's madness."
"Wait, Dead End?" Jazz asked, shocked.
"Yeah. I don't know what happened, but his arm was lopped off," he told him.
"His entire arm?" he questioned him.
"Yeah. I don't know where it was. I didn't ask questions about it, since Hound's life is in danger," he told him.
"Yeah," Jazz murmured, looking over to see Scavenger taking care of him, still taking care of his thigh. Hound was going to have a lot of difficulties moving about if he survived all of this.
"Hey, found another injury!" he heard someone yell and looked further up the stands to see Perceptor and Hoist holding up a limp Drift, each one taking a hold of his arms. From what he could see, he had an abnormally large dent on the right side of his head. Probably a large piece of rubble that hit him in the head. He was probably unconsciousness and was going to have a concussion, maybe even damage to the memory banks or CPU. The two of them took him to the stairs and took him down the steps, to the bottom level, giving him a better look at it, confirming his suspicions, giving him a good idea of how large it was, being the size of a large fist, with some energon bleeding from it slightly.
"Wow, he took a nasty blow," Jazz murmured as he looked it.
"Yeah. I checked his neck and it doesn't appeared to have disconnect his spinal strut, so he has that going for him," Perceptor told him.
"Alright. You should just let him rest until he wakes up to determine the damage," Jazz told him.
"It's what I heard you do. We're going to take him to the Med-Bay to rest there," Hoist told them.
"Alright, head on over and stay there. I'll stay here to make sure Hound is okay," he told them.
"Right. Take care. We're going to need it," Perceptor murmured as he headed on out.
Ratchet removed the eleventh piece of shrapnel out of his chest and set it aside. Ratchet had been busy with Knock Out, removing all the pieces of shrapnel from his upper body before he moved on to head, which was a dangerous thing to take out. For now, it was safe to leave in his head, but he had to take that out soon enough. Knock Out was unconsciousness for now thanks to a shot of anesthesia, but he didn't know how long it will last. He could see Knock Out reflexingly gripping his hands in pain as Ratchet was digging through him. Next to him was Blurr, looking apprehensive as he gazed at his fallen rival. He must've been sad that him and Knock Out didn't get to finish the race, especially since it looked like he respected the red racer.
After a thorough search, Ratchet concluded that he removed all of the shrapnel from the wound and quickly closed it up. He had been going through each wound one at a time and closed them up after each run through with a cauterizer. This was the last one and he was glad to close the thing. None of the hit any critical fuel lines nor organs, so Knock Out was in the clear on that part, even though he was going to have quite a few scars to show for it. They might go away after a thorough buffering and more paint on it, but the really difficult one to get rid of will be the one on his head when he removes the piece of metal stuck there. He could tell that it was embedded deep into his head and if had been a bit deeper, it could've destroyed his CPU. He got lucky in the fact that he was even still alive.
"Bludgeon, I'm going to need your help for this last part," Ratchet told him and he was responsive, coming on over.
"What do you need?" Bludgeon questioned him.
"Right now, this piece of metal is preventing a lot of bleeding from occurring. I need you to pull it off slowly so that I can identify any cuts and close them shut," he said as he got a much smaller cauterizer out that was a small stick with one end letting a short-range laser out and the other being connected to a wire connected to a computer that showed the view at the end of the cauterizer which had a microscopic camera on it.
"Understood," Bludgeon muttered as he grabbed a hold of it and primed himself to pull it out.
"Right, begin pulling so that I can get an entrance," he ordered and Bludgeon did so, pulling it up slowly. He did so until a small opening made itself available and Ratchet sent the cauterizer through. He immediately saw small bleeding occurring at carious spots and quickly cauterize them. Ratchet continued ordering him as they work together to make sure everything that could bleed was taken care of. After a full twenty minutes, Bludgeon had removed the large piece of metal and set it aside while Ratchet finished it off and quickly closed up the wound. After it was done, Knock Out had a large scar above his shattered right optics down to the right below the left side of his jaw. Trying to hide that was a herculean task that not even Knock Out could cover, but Ratchet could at least bandaged that and the ones on his upper chest.
"Alright, Knock Out should be good, even though he definitely won't want to look in the mirror," Ratchet murmured.
"He should be proud of it. All great warriors have scars," Bludgeon remarked, crossing him arms. He displayed his thoughts perfectly as many small scars litter his body. Nothing that hit a critical place.
"Yeah, but Knock Out wants everything about himself to be aesthetically perfect. He's not going to be please when he wakes back up," he told him.
"Hmph, what a vain fool," Bludgeon muttered.
"Let's just be glad he's alive," Blurr murmured, finally speaking up. "Someone was trying to kill me or him, maybe even both of us. We're both lucky to be alive."
"Hey, Ratchet, you think you can check up on Laserbeak?" Skywarp questioned them from a few slabs back. "I brought Knock Out here, so you can trade right?"
"Yeah, sure," Ratchet assured him as he went on over to the two and quickly checked up on him. Indeed, the left wing was cut open and severed in half at the connection between the wing and the body. "Right, guess I'll weld it shit and bandage it up. Sorry Laserbeak, you won't flying for a while," apologized to the pet, making it give sad whirrs.
"Hey, it'll be alright. Could've been a lot worst," Skywarp comforted him.
"Right, this is going to be painful. Want a shot of anesthesia?" he questioned the pet which gave a beep in response.
"That's a yes," he answered.
"Right," Ratchet murmured as he quickly got a shot and injected it into Laserbeak's energonstream at the neck. Within a minute, the pet was asleep and Ratchet went to work. He quickly weld the wing back to the body and quickly added the bandages to the pet.
"Alright, thanks Ratchet," Skywarp thanked as he softly patted Laswerbeak's head. "Soundwave would've haunt me from the grave if I let him die."
"Right. Glad to help," Ratchet nodded as he turned his attention around the room to Perceptor and Hoist standing together and blocking his view of who was on the medical slab. He went on over to the slab and was surprised to see Drift on there with a large dent in his head.
"Hey, Ratchet. Drift was hit with a large chunk of rubble and we took him here," Hoist told him.
"Right," he murmured as he grabbed some bandages. "Have you check his spinal column?"
"Yes. It's still connected, so we're good on that end?" Perceptor told him.
"Good," he mummed as he wrapped his head wound up. "It best to just wrapped it up and let the bleeding heal on its own. When he wakes up, I'll have to check him for a concussion."
"Right," he nodded.
"Is there anyone else that requires my attention?" Ratchet questioned him. Looking around, he could think of one.
"There's Hound, but he's still pinned to the stands thank to a metal rod," he told him.
"Scavenger is currently at work on him. You should probably head on over to him and help out," Hoist told him.
"I'll head on over," he said as he was about to get some welder and bandages only to hear the door opened and look back there. To his surprise, he saw Scavenger and Mixmaster bring him inside, each taking a hold of one of his arms, his leg and shoulder fixed up, with Rewind in tow. That was good, but the metal rod was still stuck in him. They appeared to had cut part of the one poking out from his back in order to free him from the stands.
"Hey there, Ratchet," Mixmaster greeted him as they led Hound to the nearest slab and laid him on it sideways on his right side, helping to relief pressure on his left side.
"Holy frag, that's a nasty wound," Ratchet murmured as he went ahead and grabbed the anesthesia to sedate him. He walked on over to the patient and stood over Hound, who was looking, who had Rewind holding on to his hand and talking to each other.
"I'll be fine," Hound assured Rewind weakly as he laid on the slab. "I survived this whole damn war, I can survive a bombing."
"I know… I just worry too much. You understand, don't you?" he questioned him.
"Yeah, but I'll survive if I made it this far," he told him as he shift his gaze over to Ratchet. "Ready to knock me out?"
"If you are," he responded.
"Alright, do it," he said as he let go of Rewind. Ratchet nodded as he went over and injected it into his neck cables, sending him to recharge mode in a minute. Rewind backed off as Ratchet went to work, cutting the back of the rod off, only leaving a small amount of it left.
"Right, Bludgeon, know what we did with Knock Out?" he asked the metallikato expert who was standing nearby
"Yes, I do," he replied, walking over to Hound's front, knowing what his next request would be.
"I need you to pull the rod out slowly while I cauterize any openings," he said as he got the gear from before out.
"On your command," he said as he grabbed a hold of it and prepared himself to tug it out. Ratchet gave himself a minute to prepare himself before giving the signal and Bludgeon pulled slowly. Almost immediately that Ratchet could see Hound's insides, he saw bleeding and went to work cauterizing them. Bludgeon waited patiently for his call to continue as he quickly took care of the bleeding. After a minute, he gave the signal to continue and he did so, letting the two continue the cycle until the rod was completely removed and placed to the side as Ratchet was done cauterizing the wound. When that was done, a hole was left behind, leaving only a few wires hanging out.
"Right, let's add a medical pad, bandage him up and let it take care of itself. I'll weld a piece of metal to it later once they healed up," Ratchet said as he grabbed the two medical pads and quickly place it on each room and wrapped the bandages around them to keep them secure. Once that was done, he looked around to see everyone had entered the medical bay, all of them waiting around. Most of them were keeping their optics off of Blast Off's corpse, not wanting to see the gruesome sight. The only one who wasn't looking around was Swindle, hugging himself tightely and saying the same thing over and over to himself. It was a time of melancholy.
"Alright! Great to see everyone alive –well, except for Blast Off- and well –except for Hound, Knock Out, Bumblebee, Dead End, and Laserbeak," Monobear grinned as he saunter on to the center of the room from out of nowhere, earning the ire of everyone in there that was conscious and not catatonic.
"You got the file, don't you," Perceptor immediately guessed.
"Bingo, however before I continue, I got a few things to say. First off, I'm technically giving you an extension on your time, as if I just went by normal time, you would all be heading to the trial room right now, so give me a thank you for that." He waited for applause for that or even a thank you, but was met with a stony silence. "Alright, tough crowd. Now, second, I'm looking for who killed Blast Off and that's it. They're the blackened. Please keep that in mind." The group continued to glare at him. Duh, that was obvious. Find the person who killed Blast Off, which was the person who set the bomb. "Third, if anybody is unable to attend the trial, then I'll give them a freebie, provided they aren't important for the trial," he told them and they all gave a sigh of relief at that. No way would a couple of them be able to attend the trial in their current state. "Fourth, and most importantly, the Monobear File is the only thing that I'll give to everybody," he told them.
"Wait, what does that mean?" Hoist asked, confused.
"I'm saying that searching for evidence is now a free-for-all! If you find info, it'll only go to your electroID and no one else! You now have to rely on only yourself to find evidence. No more sharing amongst all of you. Be careful of who you share information to, as it could be given to the blacken to strengthen their alibi. Think someone's claim of evidence is slagged, present evidence. Do everything you can to play for yourself against everyone to reach the truth," he told them and that made everyone quiet. Until now, they had all been using the same system, sharing information to help reach to the same goal. Now, there was none of that. And they knew what he was doing.
It was time for everyone to play selfishly.