AN: Do you guys like the new cover image? My thanks to thornstone8773 on Tumblr for making it.

"So… you really expect us to vote you up?" Knock Out questioned him with his arms crossed and his head down. He wasn't quite ready to accept the result.

"I don't want you to, but we have no choice. In order to ensure the survival of everyone else, we have to execute me," Ratchet told him.

"I honestly can't believe it, but you've given me more days, Ratchet. Thank you," Smokescreen told him sincerly.

"Don't get too comfortable, you scumbag," Onslaught warned him. "We all know your real self now."

"Yeah… that's true," the serial killer shrugged. "But I'm still alive, right?"

"We won't stop watching you," Hoist told him.

"Hey, I'm not the only one you need to watch. Dead End is the reason I didn't kill Blast Off and Ratchet is having to be served up in my steed," he pointed out.

"That is true," Ratchet agreed, "but that's probably because his mind his been fractured, both by the drugs in his system and because of you bashing his head in. Who knows what that blow to the head did to him."

"You're trying to justify my actions?" Dead End questioned, glaring at him. "Why?"

"I don't believe you would just do this because of your nihilism. I think you just needed something to push you over the line, that being the drugs and Smokescreen's actions," Ratchet told him.

"Am I really the blame for everything?" Smokescreen interrupted.

"Yes, you are, now shut up. I'm fine with literally everyone except you outlasting me right now," Ratchet ordered him and Smokescreen got the message, turning away and keeping his mouth shut. "Now, I believe it's time to get this vote started. Once that's done, no doubt will remain."

"But, Ratchet… you've helped us out so much. I don't wanna vote you out," Beachcomber muttered, his voice hitched up.

"Neither do I, but we got to," Rewind told him. "We have to live through this."

"But for how long?" Dead End asked him, startling him. "Someone pulling off a successful murder is inevitable. At least this way, the person leaving the room won't feel guilt."

"Guilt?" Ratchet questioned him. "I would feel guilty if you all die except for me."

"Maybe so, but at least you be more rational than anyone else," the cynic responded.

"Rational?" Hoist muttered. "Wait, so you weren't just blindly killing yourself? "

"Of course I wasn't. I always intended for Ratchet to escape off killing me. He made the most sense. He was rational, realistic, and had empathy. He was the one deserved to live the most compared to everyone else here," Dead End told them.

"You think you can categorize everyone here based on their rationality?" Bludgeon growled. "What gives you the right to dictates who lives and who dies?"

"It's a strange contradiction of thought," Dead End admitted. "I'm arrogant enough to decide who I want to live, but critical enough of myself to decide that the person that should live shouldn't be me."

"Does it matter?" Skywarp questioned. "All he accomplished is forcing is to have to vote up Ratchet for a death he never intended."

"This is all your choice. You can vote for Ratchet or you can see it my way and not vote for him," he told them.

"Which is why I insist you vote for me," Ratchet told everyone. "I've accepted what needs to be done to ensure everyone's survival. Just get it over with."

"If you insist!" Monobear spoke up. "Let's get the vote underway. I'm sure all of you have decided on who is the culprit, so get your electroID out and decide who is the blackened."

Ratchet knew what he had to do. He brought his electroID out and went to 'Voting.' The thirty pictures came up with Blast Off now having a blue X over his face and he clicked the picture of himself, making that full-screen. It asked him yes or no and he hesitated. He knew this was what he had to do, but he thought he had more to do. He thought he would actually get to live in a normal society and have a normal life. He just wanted peace. Now, he was forced to give his life away to save twenty people. All because he was a good Samaritan that wanted to prevent Blast Off from dying from his wounds. Those good intentions led to him killing Blast Off. How painfully ironic.

He pressed yes and put it up. He could see that several others were struggling to do as well. One-by-one, they gave their answer and put their electroID up, the last one being Knock Out, who was shifting his glare between Dead End and Smokescreen as he did so. It was obvious who he blamed more for Blast Off's death than Ratchet. He gave his vote and put it up.

"Alright, the votes are in and the results are ready. Did you voted correctly or are you despairingly wrong? Let's find out!" he yelled and the slot machine spin up, cycling through all the pictures of everyone before landing on three pictures of Ratchet. The court waited for a few seconds before confetti and coins erupted from. "Yee-haw! You got it right. Ratchet, the Ultimate Medic, killed Blast Off, the Ultimate Sniper, with Dead End, the Ultimate Poet, being an accomplice."

"So, we were right," Bumblebee muttered in dread.

"Yes, you were, although it wasn't unanimous. Dead End landed his vote onto himself, while Hoist, Onslaught, and Swindle placed their votes on Smokescreen," Monobear informed everyone.

"Wow, you guys really wanted me dead," Smokescreen remarked.

"This is all your fault!" Swindle yelled at him, getting in his face. "Blast Off is dead because if you!"

"So? You heard Ratchet, he was the one who killed him in the end, so placing your votes on me just increased the likelihood of you getting executed with me," he told him coldly. "Stop being so emotional."

*Clang*

"Guah!" Smokescreen grunted as he got on his knees from Swindle punching him in the gut.

"Stay down and shut up!" Swindle ordered him. "When we're out of here, we'll stick you with the rest of the psychos, as that's obviously where you belong."

"I'll see if I can get a conviction for him," Jazz agreed. "Now, we have to get to the hard part."

"My execution," Ratchet muttered gravely. "It's been decided."

"Why… why did it have to turn out like this?" Rewind questioned out loud.

"Because we have to do whatever we can to ensure the group's survival. Don't forget that," he told him. "I will die today, but I don't want it to be in vain."

"It won't be, Ratchet," Knock Out assured him. "You will be avenged. The mastermind will die."

"Oh, so confident," Monobear mocked. "The only way out is by getting away with murder, so stop looking for another way out."

"You won't win," Ratchet told him. "I may die, but I know you'll be joining me soon enough."

"Why? I thought you would want good company?" Monobear questioned him, purposely missing the point.

"Ignoring him," Mixmaster muttered, "I'm sorry Ratchet. I had no idea that the acid would be used again like this. I know that this was partially my fault."

"Don't be like that," Ratchet told him. "If not like this, than he would've found another way. He seemed determine to die."

"Maybe, but my way was quick and efficient. It would've been easier to stop him if he didn't have access to my acid," the chemist responded back.

"Maybe so. We'll never know, but I forgive you," Ratchet acknowledged. "Now, I believe it's time."

"If you insist," Monobear agreed. "Everyone, let's give a cheer for Ratchet's punishment and it's a very special one for the Ultimate Medic," he announced as the red button came out of the ground and he got ready push it. As he did so, Ratchet addressed everyone one more time to give his final words.

"Everyone, listen, even you Smokescreen," he said, earning everyone's attention. "Remember, the enemy here isn't any of us, it's Monobear. You have to stop this game before any more people die." Monobear was pulling back to hit it. "And please, tell Drift I'm sorry we won't get to talk again." Monobear brought the gavel down and Ratchet was taken away before anyone could respond.

GAME OVER

RATCHET HAS BEEN FOUND GUILTY

COMENCING EXECUTION

Ratchet looked around in apprehension. He appeared to have been dropped off in a middle of a warzone where robots of red and purple colors were feuding with each other. He was currently behind the red robots line, indicating he was on their side.

Ratchet knew he had to get out. The red robots were stuck in a rundown building while the purple ones were attacking from outside. There wasn't much here that he can use for cover. He had to retreat deeper into the building to avoid fire.

*Boom*

Ratchet was tossed to the floor, his armor scorched and shrapnel embedded in his chest. An explosion had just been set off, probably a grenade of some sort. As he tried to get up, a red robot came to him and wrapped his arm around its shoulder to get him out of the room.

It led Ratchet through the hall, taking him to another room where another red robot was, this one with white star of life on his shoulders, indicating its status as a medic, and a medical slab in the middle of the room. On the left side of its chest, he could see the name 'Armstrong' on their, indicating the robot's name.

Ratchet was brought to the slab and placed on it, with the soldier keeping close to him. The medic approached him, moving very sluggish as it dragged the tray over to Ratchet and brought the scalpel out with shaky hands.

As it stood above him, Ratchet could smell high-grade coming from it stinging his olfactory senses and bringing back unpleasant memories. He knew what Monobear had planned for him.

MEDICAL MALPRACTICE

Armstrong brought the scalpel down on Ratchet, sending it deep into his armor, sending it deep into where the biggest shrapnel was and cut it opened sloppily, cutting into several wires and tubes. Ratchet gave a harsh screamed as a small amount of energon leaked out and tried to get out, only for the soldier to keep him down.

The medic grabbed the piece of shrapnel with its bare hands and pulled it out, not even bothering to be careful as another squirt of energon came out and hit the medic's face. It wiped its face before getting a welder and soldering wound shut sloppily, ensuring that the auto-healers will have to take a longer amount of time and cause pain to Ratchet, who was squirming as much as he can with the soldier keeping him down.

After that, Armstrong brought the scalpel back down to the center of his chest, right where his spark was. It stick the scalpel in deep and brought it down Ratchet's body, making him howl. When it was done, it grabbed a retractor and placed it in the opening to separate the two edges of the wound.

This exposed Ratchet's spark, which had a large cut in it from the scalpel and pieces of shrapnel in it. Armstrong scratched its head in drunken confusion, which earned a fist from the soldier, a sign to fix the problem. The medic nodded and quickly got some forceps to pull the shrapnel out.

Ratchet optics brighten in fear again and tried to escape again, only for the soldier to keep him down. He knew the order was wrong. He needed to fix the open wound in the spark first before going after the shrapnel. Frag, it should've used anesthesia first before even engaging in the surgery. Then again, Ratchet forgot to use anesthesia as well when his patient died.

The medic brought the forceps to a large piece of shrapnel at the spark and pulled it out roughly, spreading the open wound a bit more and causing Ratchet's spark to bleed out at a furious rate and making the Autobot give a savage yell. His optics were fading and the Armstrong continued, removing the other piece of shrapnel.

Armstrong grabbed the welder again as Ratchet's screams died down. As he brought it to Ratchet's spark, he saw that it wasn't glowing anymore and the soldier had let go and was crossing its arms at the medic, shaking its head at it. Ratchet's was still with his face stuck in a look of agony and all his lights off.

Armstrong scratched the back of its head guiltily before grabbing a large piece of cloth and placing it over the corpse to hide it. If one can't see the body, they can't blame Armstrong. The two of them looked at each before a large explosion shook the building and quickly left the area before anything can happen, leaving Ratchet's corpse behind.

Everyone was quiet as the screen went off, leaving Ratchet's covered corpse the last image they saw. Ratchet had been an icon amongst the Autobots and now he was dead. The only one who knew just how dramatic his death was, was Jazz, knowing about his secret. Seeing the recreation of the event that Ratchet described was horrifying. Monobear had a certain knack for the ironic alright.

"Whelp… everyone ready to leave?" Smokescreen asked everyone dispassionately, earning a glare from everyone there. He shrugged his shoulders and headed over to the elevator. "I'll wait on you guys." The group was quiet as Smokescreen entered the elevator before Bludgeon spoke up.

"There is nothing we can do now. We've obtain out pyrrhic victory. It's time to head back up," the metallikato expert told everyone.

"He's right, unfortunately," Perceptor acknowledged. "There is no reason to stay down here and linger on this any longer."

"Yeah… he's right. Let's go," Jazz told them as one-by-one, they all walked off to the elevator. Soon enough, the only two left behind were Skywarp and Knock Out. The former had his arms crossed, his face turned into a slight frown, while the latter had his hands on his hips, his mouth turned into a massive scowl.

"Are you okay?" Skywarp asked. "I know you really wanted Smokescreen dead."

"No… I'm not," Knock Out replied earnestly. "I lost too much today. My frame being disfigured. Smokescreen living. Losing Ratchet, my perfect counterpart. Me and Ratchet worked because we were so different and now…." Knock Out went silent at that before he walked on over to the elevator. Skywarp gave a small sigh before he headed on over to the elevator and entered it, everyone being in there now. Blurr pressed the button and the elevator closed and moved up.

Chapter 5: Leave Hope on the Operating Table (END)

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