"Take a seat, Doc. What can I get you?" Swerve asked. I was sitting in Swerve's new bar, at the counter, eatting something. "You've... opened up a bar?" Ratchet hesitantly asked, sitting down on the stool next to mine. "I know. Isn't it the coolest thing you've ever seen?" Swerve asked. "Does Rodimus know? Does Magnus?" Ratchet interrogated. "Not yet, but – it's fine. I'll invite them to the official opening. It's fine." Swerve answered.

Ratchet looked over at me, and his expression turned into one of shock. "What the hell are you eating?" He asked. "Oh, just one of the limbs of the Sparkeater. The rest is stored in mine and Rung's hab suite." I nonchalantly stated while chewing. "Why?" He asked, giving me an expression mixed with shock and 'are you serious' kind of expression. "Why not?" I asked back. I swallowed the piece I at before opening my mouth to take another bite. When my mouth opened, it revealed that my teeth were sharp and uneven, and black drool slightly dripping out from the sides before I took a bite.

His attention was pulled away when Swerve spoke up. "On the house. To celebrate finding ourselves on the map." Swerve said, giving Ratchet the drink that he'd just made. "Either it's very far away, our you invented the world's smallest drink." Ratchet stated, putting his head at the same level with the drink, squinting his eyes. "It's free. Shut up." Me and Swerve said at the same time, before I took another bite out of the Sparkeater's limb.

"Now, you wanted to talk about Fisitron's Datalogs..." Swerve started. "You were a subscriber, right? Like me. You had Wreckers: Declassified beamed directly into your brain." Ratchet said. "...Yep. 'Til Fisitron died. Ironfist. Whatever." Swerve confirmed. I zoned out their conversation, feeling bored by just listening.

Then I snapped back into reality by the sound of glass shattering. "Dammit! Sorry- My hands keep freezing up. I've worn them out." Ratchet informed.

"Why not get Tailcorn, or whatever his name is, to make you some new ones. You know, the guy who carries a briefcase." I suggested. "His name is Brainstorm. And actually, don't. He'd probably give you an index finger that fired surface-to-air missiles, or-or a thermonuclear thumb." Swerve accused. "These hands are irreplaceable. And when they stop working, that's it – I officially cease to be of any use." Ratchet explained.

"So, er, last night's data log..." Swerve brought up. "Okay, so the 'random numbers' were actually statistics – medical stats. Survival rates, to be precise. I don't know who sent the data log, or when – these things take time to travel through subspace – but i know it came from Delphi. I recognize the diagnosis codes." Ratchet informed.

"The statistics start two years ago, and at first they fluctuate: between 0% and 20% of patients are dying every month. Tragic, but within normal parameters. But then the death rate starts to climb, and plateau, and climb, and plateau. And for the last six months, precisely half of all patients have died every month." Ratchet continued to explain, showing the both of us the chart.

"Swerve, Y/n, whoever sent that data log is trying to tell us something." Ratchet stated. "We're not far from Delphi, you know..." Swerve suggested. "I know – and I think it's time I made a house call." Ratchet said. "Y/n, your coming with me. If it turns out that someone is killing the patients, you seem like an expert with killing." Ratchet added. "Sure. It was getting boring staying on this ship." I said, getting up from my seat as I ate the last bit of the Sparkeater's limb.

---

The Planet Messatine.

Five Miles from Delphi.

"And we can't just park outside because..." Pipes asked as we glided across the snow; it's almost like Snowdin became a planet, I almost miss the Underground. Almost.

"Because, Pipes, we're playing it safe. This whole setup feels – I don't know. I can't put my finger on it." Ratchet explained. "It's called intuition, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. You should surrender to impulse more often." Drift suggested. "Drift – trust me – you don't want me to do that. Y/n pretty much does that almost all the time and look how he is." Ratchet stated. "Hey!" I exclaimed.

"Okay, guess what. Anyone...? No? No guesses? Alright, I'll tell you: This is my first proper alien planet. It's true! I've spent my whole life on Cybertron or-" 'Blah, blah, blah, blah' I thought to myself, blocking his short life story. I don't want to hear his explanation on why he's here.

"And what do yo make of the universe so far?" Ratchet asked. "Wet. Wet and kinda brilliant." Pipes said, leaning to the side and letting his hand drag across the snow, leaving a trail.

"Hey, this is the D.J.D.'s stomping ground isn't? Swerve saw them in action once. He was so traumatized he couldn't speak for six months. Said it was the worst thing that had ever happened to him." Pipes said. "What, seeing the D.J.D.?" Ratchet questioned. "No, not being able to speak." Pipes clarified. "I have no idea who or what the D.J.D. is, but hearing that, it must be bad if it got Swerve to shut up for that long." I stated.

"Ratchet, this whole Delphi whistleblower thing... what if everything turns out to be okay? Boring, and okay?" Drift asked. "Then I get to do something nice for a change and make Pharma the new Chief Medical Officer." Ratchet said. "Why Pharma?" Drift questioned.

"You wouldn't ask me that if you'd seen him at work. See, good medics; it's all in the hands. There's a certain... fluidity of movement. You can't build hands like that." Ratchet stated. "Are you telling me that all the best medics were forged?" Drift quired. "Yes. And no. I don't think it proves the existence of Adaptus." Ratchet replied.

It was only a little while later until we arrived. "Looks deserted. We could've parked outside after all." Skids said. "Why don't you look for a way in while I cloak the MARBS. *Mobile Autobot Repair Bays*" Ratchet suggested.

"You scared of the D.J.D., Drift?" Ratchet asked. "I'm sorry, am I what? Am I scared?" Drift questioned, caught off-guard. "Ex-'Con like you. High-profile Ex-'Con. Just asking." Ratchet retorted. "Would I be standing here if the D.J.D. bothered me in the slightest?" Drift quired. "I'm I guess you're right. I mean, if you were scared, you wouldn't be here with us right now." I said, scratching at the hole in my head. "I've operated on P.O.W.'s who've begged me not to save them; Decepticons who'd rather die than get added to the D.J.D.'s list as punishment for getting captured... but you're not bothered." Ratchet stated.

"Oi, you three; What's this then?" Pipes asked, gesturing to the big, red X on a wall. "That would be the second most terrifying symbol in the universe." Ratchet informed. "What's the first?" I asked. "Give Drift your spark casing and he'll show you." Ratchet stated, jabbing his thumb behind him to the samurai. "You know, Ratchet, one day you'll say something nice to me; just before you tell me I've got a terminal illness or something." Drift said.

"Okay, so this is the bit where we break in, right?" Pipes questioned, transforming into his alt-mode. "What are you doing?" Ratchet asked. "I'm trying to be impulsive!" Pipes said. And with that, he drove forward, making Drift and Ratchet jump out of the way as I just short-cut out of the way.

When Pipes hit the wall, he broke it down, ending inside. And inside was a room full of corpses and the stench of death and misery, and not the good kind because it smells better that whatever the fuck this is.

Pipes transformed back into robot-mode, the limbs sliding off of his person. "Uh, guys...? I'm covered in- Oh, Primus. I think I'm covered in dead people." Pipes stated.

"That cross on the wall? The one you just ignored? It's the Universal Plague Symbol. It means 'Stay the hell away' in a billion languages. It does not mean 'ram-raid a morgue'!" Ratchet scolded, pointing over to the recently demolished wall.

"Hands up, who thinks this trip just taken a slight turn for the worse." Drift asked, slightly raising both of his hands. "A plague symbol? Am I infected or something?" Pipes asked. "I don't know. Probably no. Hopefully not." Ratchet hypostasized. "What about 'Definitely not'? Is 'Definitely not' in there? 'Cos that's my favorite." Pipes asked in a stress and nervous tone.

"Pipes! Behind you!" Drift warned. I looked to see one of the previously motionless corpses moving. Pipe quickly moved out of the way as Drift dashed forward, slicing the corpse into pieces. "What was that?!" Ratchet asked. "I don't know, but I think it was infected." Drift guessed. "I'm talking about you! What's with all the slicing?!" Ratchet specified. "He was going to attack Pipes!" Drift stated. "He was moving at two miles an hour!" Ratchet stated back.

Ratchet sighed. "I know this guy. His name was Prowl." Ratchet said. "Prowl?" Drift repeated in a confused tone. "Not the Prowl, obviously. This Prowl changed his name to... Dent, I think to avoid confusion." Ratchet informed. "Dent? He called himself Dent? As in- As in dent?" Drift questioned. "Yeah, well, all the best names are taken." Ratchet retorted.

"Hello?" A new voice spoke up. I turned around to see a new bot, pretty much one of the medics of this establishment, and had a light source with him. "Anyone down there? I thought I heard... bickering. Ratchet?!" The medic said in shock at his appearance.

"First Aid. Do me a favor and explain everything." Ratchet requested. "Oh, Ratchet; it's bad. We've been hit by this-this virus. This Red Rust. Everyone's dying...! I was trying to find a patient. He escaped the ward and- Ah. I see you found him first." First Aid said, kneeling next to the now permanently dead corpse. "Sorry. He attacked Pipes." Drift explained. "*Cough* Sort of." Ratchet clarified behind a fake cough.

"Pipes I presume?" First Aid guessed as he examined him. "What gave it away? Was it the pipes?" Pipes jokingly asked, but it was ignored. "Hmm. You look okay. Ish." First Aid concluded. "Can we try that again without the 'ish'...?" Pipes requested, trailing off. "Afraid not; the virus is transmitted by physical contact, but it can lie dormant in the body for hours, even days." First Aid informed.

He then pulled out a marker and drew a red X on the side of Pipes' face. "Keep still. This just tells other people that you've come into contact with an infected patient." First Aid said. "'Stay the hell away'." Pipes quoted Ratchet's previous statement. "Yeah. Something like that." First Aid commented.

First Aid then noticed my presence, and I can tell he was going to say something about my head. "Before you say anything: Yes, I'm fine. This is just how I look; nothing to worry about." I stated. "Oh... okay?" He replied with uncertainty.

(Time-skip)

"So, what happens when the infection actually takes hold? What are the symptoms?" Ratchet asked as we walked down this hallway. "Well, first off, your optics corrode and leak down your face, and then, full-blown liquefaction. Every hinge, every pivot; everything rusts, and your spark starts to collapse. We lost dozens in the first hour; the security team, the miners..." First Aid explained.

"That says you've touched infected patients. How come you aren't displaying any symptoms?" Ratchet asked, pointing to the red X on the side of his face. "Ambulon thinks us medics are more resilient because we've been exposed to so many diseases. Personally... I think that sometimes – just sometimes, mind – life persists." First Aid said.

"You should have called for help." Drift stated. "Easier said than done. All communications have been down since the Big Bang." First Aid informed. "The Big Bang?" Drift repeated in a confused tone.

"Five days ago, there was a noise, like an explosion. Loudest thing you've ever heard. Afterwards, people started getting sick. We think the D.J.D. detonated some kind of dirty bomb; we just can't work out where. And to be honest... we've had other things on our minds." First Aid explained as we entered the med-bay.

"Yeesh. Man, do them corpses look like, and have the smell of rotten tomatoes. No way in hell they're good for eating." I muttered, leaning down close to one of the patients before walking away. "Should I be worried?" First Aid whispered. "He has a weird diet. Earlier today, before we arrived, he was eating a Sparkeater's limb." Ratchet whispered back. "And I have a good sense of smell. I can smell the effects of the virus bomb, but also a few, three in total, that aren't part of the bomb smell; probably the people who made it and detonated it." I informed.

I stood next to Drift as the three medics talked about something, but we followed them so see the other medic, Pharma.

When we arrived, he was locked in this glass room. "What've you done to him?" Ratchet asked. "I haven't done anything. That's the Quarantine Room. Pharma was working in there when we heard the Big Bang. The door sealed itself automatically. It won't open until enough time has passed for all known technopathogens to die out." Ambulon informed. "But that'll take-" "Millions of years. Yeah, I know." Ambulon said. Phara was trying to say something, but it was muffled by the glass.

"The glass is thick. I can't hear what he's saying. You do know you can override this lock, right? You're the ward manager; you've got clearance to unlock anything." Ratchet informed. "Really?" Ambulon questioned, genuinely surprised.

Pharma then walks somewhere in the room and lasers something on his hand. It read, "Your friend is upset".

"Wha..." I trailed off in confusion. "Pipes!" ratchet exclaimed, turning around. The rest of us turned around also, and saw that he was walking towards us, some of his metal plating corroding, and his body was trembling. "Help me..." He said, his voice wavering.

"I feel funny..." He continued. "Keep talking. Talking is good. Talking means you're winning." Ratchet said in a low, calm tone. "...But I'm scared..." Pipes said. "Focus! Describe your symptoms; help me understand! Tell me how it feels!" Ratchet instructed. "...It feels wet... and kinda horrible." He said. "UURRRGGH!" He groaned, some parts of his body falling off of him, even some of his paint job was chipping off."

"Drift; keep him occupied while I get Pharma... don't kill him!" Ratchet ordered as he started hacking the mechanism to open the door. The door slid open. "Out you come!" Ratchet said as Pharma ran out. When he ran past us, I caught a whiff of a familiar scent. "Wait a minute..." I muttered under my breath.

My attention was put back onto the infected comrade when he groaned, and this liquid stuff sprayed out of his eyes and mask. "Ratchet! He's corned me! What do I do?" Drift asked. "Something non-fatal!" Ratchet yelled.

Drift avoided him by ducking and transforming into his alt-mode, drove under his arm, and transformed back into robot-mode as he took his katana out of its scabbard. "I think you should sleep this one off." Drift said as he hit Pipes in the back of the head with the handle of his blade, effectively knocking him out.

"I'll take him back to the ward and hook him up to a nucleon feed, but him some time." Ambulon said. "What happened to Pharma?" Drift asked. "He went running off to the cells. He says he's worked out what's happened..." Ratchet said.

(Time-skip)

"First Aid! Where are you? We've got a Fader!" Ambulon informed as we ran into the Emergency Ward, and as he carried Pipes bridal-style. "I've got you." Ratchet said, holding one of Pipes hands has he was laid on the medical berth.

"First Aid told you my theory, then? That medics are uniquely resistant to effects of the virus?" Ambulon asked. "All I know is that this Autobot is scared. I'm just pleased that my hands are still good for something." Ratchet said.

"Ratchet? I need to talk to you..." Drift said. "Stay back! You might get infected." Ratchet stated, holding up a servo between the two, not even looking at the samurai's way. "I think it's a bit late for that. Pipes must've sprayed me. I'm sorry." Drift informed. I looked over to see that some rust was leaking out of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, some also dripping down his chassis. There was also some rust on other parts of his body.

That's when Pharma was thrown into the room, crashing into one of the medical berths. "Pharma?!" Ratchet called out. "They were... waiting for me; the Decepticons. Someone had already let them out. Some sort- Some sort of remote override." Pharma groaned in pain.

"What have we here?" A voice tauntingly asked, two familiar scents entering the room. "Some Autobots, some medics, a freak, and a traitor." Another said. "Really? All I see is a room full of the dead and the dying. And believe me, that a generous use of the present tense." The first Decepticon spoke up, making a growl rumble in my throat.

"Alright, enough. I don't know who you are, but you've won, okay? If that's what it takes to send you on your way, the fine. You've won." Ratchet said, raising his hand up in surrender. "Ratchet... my friend here begs to differ." First Aid said, some clasps connected to his chassis as the other ends of them where in his hands. Meanwhile, a new bot was behind him.

"Do you two realize where you're standing? No? Then let me explain. My name is Fortress Maximus. Five years ago, I was attacked by a Decepticon so powerful he redefined the word. He took me down. Hard. I was paralyzed, lobotomized, and left for dead. All of which means that right now, you two, you two Decepticons, being the very first Decepticons I've encountered since I was all but beaten to death, are standing in the very worst place in the universe."

To be continued...