Ratchet bit back a cry of pain as two sets of hands dragged him to his feet, drawing attention to the dent in his back struts. He attributed it to the blast forcing him against the counter and thought about exactly what he would do to fix it to keep him from thinking about anything else. He registered a few other dings and dents as he was roughly led along by the two mechs and devoutly went over how he would fix each and every one of them.

At first, he kept his optics down, but the mech's leading him had no care for what, or who, he may be stepping on as they dragged him from the club so he turned his optics up, leaning his head back and staring up at the sky to avoid seeing anything else. His head swam though whether it was from residual high grade or the explosion knocking his sensors askew, he couldn't be sure. He didn't even feel it when his hands were locked behind his back with a pair of magnabonds, though he did snap out of it when he was suddenly pitched forward and couldn't stop his fall.

He cried out as his square shoulder hit the ground, one corner denting in. He rolled onto his stomach and struggled to get himself up, his injured back struts screeching their protest.

"Ratchet! Oh thank Primus!"

Ratchet's head shot up and suddenly hands were helping him to his feet. "Wheeljack?" he asked, his vents working overtime to cool his system.

Wheeljack swore and gently sat him up and against the purple wall of the shuttle they'd been tossed into. "Ratch, take a deep breath, your systems are overheating," he said. Ratchet nodded and closed his optics before carefully cycling air through his vents until his system started to cool down, if only a little. When he opened his optics, he noticed that his friends' hands were locked in magnabonds and resting on his shoulder to keep him steady, and more surprisingly, his blast mask was on.

Ratchet tilted his head. "Jack, why's your mask on?" he asked.

Wheeljack shook his head but didn't answer. "Ratchet, what the slag happened? Me n' Percy were gonna go outside for some air and then…"

Ratchet shivered and shook his head. "Where's Percy?" he asked, changing the subject. If he talked about it he'd have to remember—remember that two of his close friends, and countless others, were dead.

"He's unconscious," he said and nodded towards where the red mech was lying against the wall of the shuttle, and he wasn't the only one. There were around 30 other mechs lying bound in the shuttle, some injured and unconscious, others sharing the same terrified looks that Ratchet and Wheeljack wore. "He's got a nasty dent on his helm from the blast, but I think he'll be alright. Ratchet, what's going on?" he insisted.

Ratchet shivered and refused to look at him. "R-road and Lunar are dead," he whispered, his voice cracking. That was what he hadn't wanted to think about, but as the words left his mouth, the reality set in.

Ratchet heard Wheeljack's vents stall before stuttering back to life. His friend stared at him and Ratchet could tell he was trying to find something to say but the words just wouldn't come. Ratchet didn't mind.

Without warning, the shuttle jolted to life, causing its prisoners to cry out in alarm. The doors on the front end of the ship slid open and those close to it immediately backed away as a single seeker stepped through the doors. He was an imposing figure, his red, white and blue armor shining even in the dim lights. His wings were flared out on either side of him, making him look even bigger while his red optics glowed like embers as they scanned the dirty and injured occupants of the ships cargo bay.

He crossed his arms over his cockpit, giving everyone in the bay a good view of the two nullrays attached to his forearms. "Who here was at the University?" he asked, his voice much higher than Ratchet expected. It didn't seem to fit him.

More than half the mechs in the room stirred, feeling suddenly much worse now that they were being singled out. The jet nodded haughtily. "Alright then, listen closely. You are being offered a choice here. Your precious city is under Decepticon control now. The Autobot Peacekeeper headquarters has been destroyed and your University is in ruins. We have taken the energon refineries to help fuel our growing cause," he said, sounding far too proud for the atrocity that had happened.

"You have two choices," he continued, his voice pitching into a lower, threatening timbre. "Join the Decepticon rebellion and rest easy knowing that you are fighting for the cause that will free Cybertron's oppressed citizens. You will be equipped, well fed and paid for your loyalty if you chose this path. University students especially are urged to join our ranks—your skills are imperative towards the war effort," the seeker said as his ruby optics scanned the hold.

Ratchet blanched. If the destruction of the city was really that severe then Cybertron had lost many of its greatest minds at Praxus. "You fragger!" someone hissed from the back of the shuttle. All optics turned towards the mech while the jet raised a single, elegant optic ridge.

"You have something to say?" he asked, his voice darkening further.

Ratchet swallowed. It was a senior medical student like himself that had spoken up. His name was Ion, and he'd always been a little too aloof to consider a friend, but Ratchet knew him well enough. "Yeah, I got something to say," Ion hissed as he drew himself to his feet, his optics bright with fury. His voice shook as he continued. "All I've heard about lately is the death and destruction your little group of—of terrorists have created," he snarled. "You destroy the one place that's able to help the casualties of your war and then you expect us to join you?"

The jet looked at the mech levelly. "Let me tell you your other option," he said as closed the distance between them. All Ratchet heard was the whirr of a charging nullray and had to look away. There was a garbled scream and the clang of a body hitting the floor. "Those of you who decide not to join us will be sent down to die with what remains of your Autobot stronghold. And when no one comes to help you, you'll see just how much your precious Autobots care about you," he said before turning and sweeping back out of the room, adding over his shoulder, "You have till we land to decide."

Ratchet dared to open his optics and saw Ion lying on the ground, a smoking hole through his chassis. His programming kicked in almost instantly. "He's still alive," he breathed. Ratchet tugged at the magnabonds on his wrists, feeling the metal cut into the tender wires. "Slaggit, can anyone get these damn things off?" he barked.

A tall black mech stepped forward that Ratchet didn't recognize. "Slip them back on when you're done or you're scrap too," he said before grabbing Ratchet's hands with his own. Ratchet felt a slight pressure around his hands and the creaking of metal before he could pull his wrists out of the loosened cuffs. He looked back at the mech in shock. The mech wiggled his fingers and said simply, "Force field."

Ratchet rushed to Ion's side. "Come on Ion, stay with me," he said, his hands shaking as he assessed the damage. Sure, he had the training to fix him, but he'd never been forced into a situation like this before. This was no simulation or a patient under care at the University—this was one of his classmates slowly dying under his hands.

He pulled a laser scalpel out of subspace, trying to carefully reattach a major fuel like that had been burnt through. He set his sensors to monitor the mech, textbook procedure. Yet textbooks never warned you about your hands shaking, or your vision going fuzzy with panic and making you more of a liability than a help. "Nononono," he murmured, his optics widening as his readouts showed his vitals slowing down, slipping into cascade failure. He worked frantically to reconnect anything vital and stop the leaking in coolant and fuel lines, but it didn't seem to have any affect. The feedback from his scans said he should have been able to save him, yet the reality lay right in front of him as Ion's optics dimmed and went out, his metal graying with him as his spark extinguished.

"Ratch, c'mon," Wheeljack said as he put a hand on his shoulder and gently pulled him away. Ratchet allowed himself to be pulled away, looking dumbstruck. "Ratchet, look at me," Wheeljack said and cupped his face, his magnabonds clanking. "You did what you could, okay?"

Ratchet swallowed the sick feeling in his tanks as he met his friend's optics before nodding. "Yeah… yeah," he said quietly.

Wheeljack tapped his cheek gently. "We'll be fine, okay?" Ratchet's armor clattered a bit but he managed to nod, struggling to believe him.

The big black mech with the force field walked over and knelt down beside the two of them. "Kid, you alright?" he asked Ratchet.

Ratchet turned his shellshocked gaze onto the mech and shook his head. "No, no I'm far from alright," he said quietly.

If the black mech's expression changed behind his face mask, Ratchet couldn't tell. "Lemme rephrase that. You gonna live?"

Ratchet gave a short, mirthless laugh that made Wheeljack wince. "I've made it this far, haven't I?"

The black mech sighed and patted his shoulder. "Your name's Ratchet, right?" Ratchet nodded and hugged his knees to his windshield. "My name's Trailbreaker, and I think I got an idea that'll get us out o' here."