Third-person P.O.V.
"We're ready for phase two," the voice on the other end tells him.
"Very well."
He ends the call, walks up the stairs, and rings the doorbell. A woman opens the door.

"Hello, my name is Draven. My car broke down, and my cell phone is dead."
"Oh, come in. My husband knows how to fix any car, but he's at work."
Draven enters the house and sits at the table with Ashley. Ashley tells him her husband, James, will be home soon.

The two don't have to wait long before the sound of an engine can be heard. Ashley and Draven meet him outside.
"Honey, this is Draven; he's having trouble with his car," Ashley explains.
James goes to look at Draven's car but is shot in the head. Ashley looks in horror before realizing who's behind the gun.
"WHAT DID YOU DO?" Draven looks at her, ready to kill, "no, please no, I'm pregnant!"
There's no time to contact Yazmine about this. I'll bring the baby with me. Draven decides.
He shoots Ashley in the head, but before getting near her, he sees the headlights of a car driving up the street. He has no choice but to run. The car nearly hitting him.
"Dipshit!" The driver yells before continuing to drive.

Unknown to Draven, the driver is the Grahams' neighbor. They pull into the driveway, step out of the car, and grab their bag from the back seat, and they don't get far before thinking they see a pool of blood.
The dirty blonde sees her neighbors on the ground and screams before running towards them.
"Help!" She yells, hoping other neighbors are home before realizing something else horrifying.
A man and woman run out of the house across the street, horrified.
"Ma'am, I need you to call 911. Sir, get towels from your house," she orders as another man right now out of the house on the right from the Graham's home.
"But—."
"JUST GO!"
The man runs across the street as his wife calls 911. Even she sees the problem as the dirty blonde lifts the dead female's shirt.
It's been at least two minutes; I hope I'm not too late. The woman frets.
The man questions what the dirty blonde is doing, realizing she is wearing medical scrubs.
But there's no way to save those people.

"I can do CPR if that'll help the baby,* a blonde-haired man tells her.
While she's unsure if that'll help the baby or be pointless, the OBG/YN lets the man do CPR on the pregnant woman. No one is bothered by the lack of introductions.
"... we need an ambulance and police quick!" The man hears his wife before seeing the dirty blonde feeling the dead woman's abdomen and a blonde-haired man doing CPR on the dead woman.
"What are you doing?" He asks.
"She's pregnant; I am an OBG/YN who brought her tools home. I figured out the position; ready?"
He nods and waits to be handed the baby, hoping it's not dead.
The OB/GYN has her hands on the baby in minutes. All four look in horror.
"Twenty-seven weeks," the dirty blonde says.
The man's wife is horrified.
They wrap the baby in several towels as the baby tries to breathe but cannot.
"Where is that fucking ambulance?!"
On cue, the three hear sirens; but still worried about the baby. The four neighbors are told they can't go in the ambulance, and they all get into the doctor's car. Hoping to get to the hospital fast.

Three hours later

Lennox's P.O.V.
"... yes, I understand. Thank you."
I end the call and sigh.
As if things couldn't get any worse.
I call Optimus into my office, wishing I had good news.
"... they don't know if the baby will survive. The hospital will bend the rules and allow Ratchet to be the baby's guardian rather than get a social worker until they tracked family down," I explain.
It's unusual, but we see how this will be a good arrangement — if the baby survives and we find Jasmine alive. We decide to tell Ratchet now.

Ratchet's P.O.V.
Hearing Yazmine had her own parents killed is horrifying; add, a baby got caught in all this. While I don't know if my girlfriend is ok, I feel like I need to take on the responsibility for this baby; even if I'm only allowed to decide to let the baby die — which I hope I don't have to. I know it's too soon to think about if I'm going to adopt this baby.
"I'll be this baby's guardian," I tell Lennox and Prime, "I don't think Jasmine would like it if I refused and someone who doesn't believe in the patient gets them."
I leave the office and head to the hanger.

"Ratchet, what — you heard, didn't you?" A female doctor I sometimes work with asks; I nod, "where's Jasmine?"
I lead her into the nearest empty room.

"Kidnapped by her twin, who no doubt arranged for her parents to be killed. Jasmine didn't know her mom was pregnant. She would not like it if I didn't take this opportunity, even... even if she's dead."
The female hugs me, "I'm so sorry; you're right, this is what Jasmine would want, but are you going to be ok?"
"It's hard not knowing what she's going through or what her mental state will be like - if we find her - or if I'll be planning a funeral... but like I said, she'd want this."
The baby will probably be in the NICU for thirteen weeks. I hope I find Jasmien first, and I hope she'll be stable mentally enough to talk about a name or adoption.

"... it's hard to say right now if she'll die tomorrow, be released from the hospital with many health problems, or released with no problems," the doctor explains as we look at the very sick baby. Even I worry this little one is too weak to fight. After a few minutes, we go to his office and meet the woman who saved the baby. What troubles me is she almost hit who killed the parents. I can't believe she came to work today after what she dealt with. Shame I can't meet the other three who saved the baby yet.
"Do you know about the Autobots?" I ask.
"Yes, Ratchet."
"I insist you return to the base with me. You may be a target after seeing the killer."
As much as we both don't want to leave this baby girl, we leave the hospital.

We give Shannon her own room next to the femmes' rooms. We didn't think Rung would volunteer to be her guardian, and his argument is concerned about her mental state after last night. He's not a fighter like the rest of us, but enough to protect Shannon. There's a feeling of sadness in the atmosphere that no one believes will go away soon.