* @Shadowfax4 lol I decided to combine the two one shots I came up with. This relates to no specific book!*

Ratchet rounded a corner, several data pads held in the crook of his arm. His bright teal optics kept glancing back and forth between his path and the data pad he held in his other servo. He brushed by several other Cybertronians without so much as a glance, something those who normally saw him walk this way were used to. The screen didn't really bother anyone, the brightness tuned out by the day light. Some of the passerby's, however, were not pleased with the way the medic was going about, wishing he would look more where he was going. Ratchet didn't really care what they thought; he had been doing this for years, and thanks to his keen optics, he hardly ever ran into anyone or bothered them. He continued to scan the data pad as he hurried along, his steps quickening as he went. He finally scrolled to the end, and with a satisfied grunt, closed the screen and tucked the pad under his arm along with the others. When he looked up again, he had nearly reached his destination. His optics gazed up at the tall metal structure, the Halls Of Iacon.

He slid into the buildings with ease, the automatic doors clearing a way for him. The young medic was a little pleased to see that the entrance was mostly empty, only a few scattered Cybertronians checking out data pads here and there. Ratchet walked by them, nodding to a few he may or may not have recognized, and searched for the places where he had picked up the ones he was currently holding. It took him a little while to find the shelves he had taken them from, but he put the last one away with satisfaction and turned on one heel. Now he needed to find the front desk in this maze.

"Ah, Ratchet," said an older voice behind him, making him jump a little.

The medic turned quickly, relaxing when he saw that it was Alpha Trion standing behind him, one of the oldest and wisest members of the High Council. "Oh, High Councilman, sir," he said with a small vent. "You startled me."

The older mech chuckled a little, his chassis turned in the direction of a shelf where he was placing data pads. "Please, just Alpha Trion will do. We've seen each other enough to speak our designations to each other, no?" he said with a light smile, setting down the last of the digit pads he held and turning to face the medic all the way.

Ratchet nodded his head respectfully. "Alpha Trion, then. I was just about to tell the front desk that I returned the data pads I checked out three days ago," he told him, gesturing over to the isle he had just come out of.

"Ah, I thank you then," Alpha Trion said, gesturing for Ratchet to walk with him. "It is nice to see one your age do it the old fashioned way." His paler blue optics slid over to one of the return bins, something he hadn't really been in favor of.

The younger one shrugged his shoulder plates dismissively. "It's a good way to exercise my memory files."

Alpha Trion nodded, respectfully bowing his head to another mech that passed. "Very true indeed, Ratchet. And I hear your reputation is beginning to exceed you. Some have called you the best of the best, which is good to hear at such an early stage." He smiled down at the medic.

Ratchet saw this and glanced away, a light blue flush rising to his faceplate in embarrassment. "It's nothing, sir. Just doing my job." He distracted himself with looking at a commercial posted on a big screen above them. Something about finish protector, but he didn't really care for such things.

Alpha Trion chuckled at the young bot's humbleness, turning his helm towards the entrance they were approaching. "Well, it was good to see you again. Are you sure you don't want to look for anything else valuable to your research?"

The medic stopped at the entrance and checked his systems for the time, before turning his helm back to the wise one. "Not this Solar Cycle, High- Alpha Trion. I have to get to the medical wing in a megacycle." He nodded to him respectfully. "However, I doubt it will be long before we see each other again," he added with a smile.

Alpha Trion returned the smile and nod, reaching and taking Ratchet's servo for a good shake. "Very good then. I shall see you in a few Solar Cycles," he said as he patted the medic's servo. Letting go, he turned and left the medic to leave for work.

~

"There you are," Ratchet said to the youngling, straining to keep an annoyed sigh back. "Stay away from those Energon sweets for a few days, like I told you, and you won't have to come here for the third time," he instructed.

The white and green little mech, Ragebiter, poured in a frustrated way. "But I like them!"

"Your tanks can't take them right now," the medic said, this time not even trying to stop himself from sighing. It was patients like these that really made his job difficult. Not that a simple tank ache was hard to handle.

The younglings carrier stood from her seat and took her child's servo. "I'm so sorry for the trouble. I didn't realize he had eaten some more until he started purging..," the overly worried femme said hurriedly.

The medic waved his servo dismissively and gave her a strained smile. "Just hide them better and keep an eye on him for a little while," he said, handing her a small data pad. "Take this to the front desk."

She nodded, gave her son a stern look, and hurried out, tugging Ragebiter along, who protested the entire way. Ratchet sighed forcefully again and rubbed his faceplate tiredly. This Solar Cycle had been long and stressful, with several emergencies taking him away from what was supposed to be his break time. He looked at the time again and was a little relieved to see that it was the end of his shift. He turned to leave the room, ready to take off after clocking out, but another mech rushing through the door stopped him. The medic was venting heavily from running.

"There you are!" he said after another heavy vent. "Sorry for the trouble, but they want you to head to Section Sixteen B. We've got an injured miner in there, but no one is able to take him." He stood to the side of the doorway, motioning for him to go.

Ratchet blinked at the older medic with surprise, a little taken back by the sudden task. A miner, here in the medical wing? That surely was a rarity, especially in Iacon. He slowly realized why no one was taking him; none of the doctors wanted to care for a lower class citizen. The younger medic scowled at the older one, who was still waiting for him to go, his optics sparking with fury.

"Of course," he spat, walking past him and shoving the medic's shoulder plate. "I'll go tend to him then, since none of you have the spark," he growled bluntly. He ignored the look of shock and anger that befell the one he had just pushed past, stalking through the medical wing's halls to the section he was looking for.

The mech was already sitting up when he arrived. He was a thick one, perfectly made for his job. His helm had a few horns sticking out of the sides, giving him a menacing sort of look. His color was a bronze sort of color, which melded in with the dust on his chassis well. He had heavily toned plates, having grown a little from his tireless job. The miner was dirty and dented heavily in places, wounds that obviously had not been tended.  The main concern was his leg, the upper thigh having a nasty gash that was leaking Energon. A trail leaked in from the floor, where he had obviously limped in himself. Ratchet was surprised they had let him in here, and wondered how he had gotten such a wound.

The miner turned his helm sharply when Ratchet entered, a furious look on his faceplate. "It's about time!" he growled with a thick, heavy accent. "Ah've been waitin for nearly a megacycle! Can't anyone see Ah'm leakin 'ere?" He gestured to his leg, where a puddle of Energon had formed on the medical berth.

Ratchet frowned a little as he approached, taking the data pad for his patient of the counter and looking over the information. There was hardly anything useful on it, and it was obvious the miner would not be able to pay for his medical expenses. The medic frowned more before setting it down at looking over to the mech. "My apologies.. K-24, was it?"

The miner showed his denta like an angry animal. "Ah prefer to be called Narrowbolt," he hissed angrily, leaning forward a little.

Ratchet pretended to be hardly intimidated. "Sorry. Narrowbolt, then." He walked over and began to scan the leg. "How did you get the injury, and how long have you had it?"

"Ha, that fancy pad of yer's didn't tell ya much, did it?" Narrowbolt snarled, watching him with yellow optics. "Why'd ya need to know? Ah'm an injured mech here, shouln't ya just fix it up?"

Ratchet finished the scan and looked back up to the miner. "So I can assess how bad the injury is and how to fix it, like you want," he replied smoothly. Getting on this agitated bot's bad side was definitely not a good idea right now, but he was doing his job. He examined the scan thoroughly, his optics sliding over the information. "You acquired this three megacycles ago. Did you hurt yourself in the mines?"

Narrowbolt narrowed his optics. "Dat's what a high class citizen like yerself would guess, in't it?" he said gruffly, crossing his arms, though he winced from the pain in his leg.

This time, Ratchet did roll his optics, not really enjoying how rude this mech was being. Yet at the same time, Narrowbolt had every right not to trust or like a higher class like himself. Most of them couldn't care less they considered 'slaves', for lack of better term. "I apologize if I assumed," he said gruffly, turning to get a few supplies. "That was not my intention."

"Sure it wan't," the mech said dryly, hardly convinced.

Ratchet decided to say nothing else as he began to work. He didn't want to frustrate this miner more than he already was. Something dangerous glinted in his yellow eyes, his entire frame twitching as if he were waiting for something. There was an air about him that wasn't right at all, like a beast waiting to pounce. The young medic did his best to swallow his nervousness and did his job, cleaning the wound carefully before he welded it back together. Though he would never admit it, Ratchet hated fighting, after seeing so many brawls in his early stages of life. While he wasn't bad at combat, he found no fun or pleasure in it. In the medic's mind, there had to be easier ways to resolve things than violence. Then again, that could be his higher class programming talking.

"Aah!!" the miner suddenly cried out as the weld seemingly slipped. Pain dotted his yellow optics before it was replaced with fury, his helm turning accusingly to the working doctor. "You slaghead! You did that 'n purpose!" he screeched, his denta gnashing like fangs. With a forceful effort, he brought his servo down on the welder.

"What are you doing?!" Ratchet shouted in panic as Narrowbolts digits landed in the dangerously heated flame of his tool. Again, the miner let out a scream of pain, his plates flaring up as his optics widened again. The medic cried out as Narrowbolt shoved him back harshly, grunting sharply when his back hit the counter behind him. He grabbed it to steady himself and groaned, closing his optics for a moment and shaking the shock away from his helm.

Meanwhile, the patient was doubled over in pain. When he quickly lifted his helm, his piercing opitcs were twitching with anger. "How dare you!!" he seethed through gritted denta, his plates still raised high. "You ain't tryin to fix me up, you tryin to kill me 'n cold blood!" he roared, sitting up straighter as he clutched his burnt servo to his chest chassis.

Ratchet sensed the danger and tensed, all sarcasm gone from his glossa. "Y-You couldn't have expected this to be completely painless!" he protested, trying not to allow his voice to shake. "Your rough and careless actions are what led to your injured servo." He pointed with his welder, and then realized with a start that he still had the tool at hand.

This only angered Narrowbolt even more. The dirty bronze mech suddenly got to his pedes, though he heavily favored his clean one, and released his servo from his chest, pointing accusingly. "Of course a brat like yerself would say that!! You just wanna get rid of me by pinnin the blame on a lower class miner!"

"What on Cybertron makes you think-" the young medic defended, but he cut himself short when the patient suddenly lunged at him. He cried out as Narrowbolt grabbed the his wrists, careful not to get to close to his welder, and shoved him even harder into the counter. He still had a good grip on the medic, and with an enraged shout, he squeezed and twisted the metal wrists. Ratchet cried out as sudden pain flared up his arms, his sparkbeat quickening tenfold. A rush of panic hit him again, and acting out of survival instinct, he kicked the mech's leg, which happened to be the one he had just fixed. The miner shouted as his sensitive wiring and injured plates throbbed in agony, his grip loosening as he backed away.

"You fragging-" he began, but another flash of pain made him grunt and doubled over.

The medic vented heavily, urging himself to calm down. He forced his chassis to relax and he took his welder away, his right servo appearing again. Ratchet swallowed once and exvented heavily before straightening himself. He turned gazed back at the pained mech before him. Narrowbolt was shaking and also panting deeply, his whole chassis heaving with the vents of agony. Even after what just happened, his spark sunk at the sight of him. No matter what Ratchet said, he was soft when it came to those in need.

After all, this miner, however angry and dangerous he was, was a victim to the role given to him by Ratchet's own cruel society. K-24, or rather, Narrowbolt, was only this way because he had been molded into an angry, accusing mech from a young age, no doubt. The young medic ached for those he felt had no less worth than he did. His optics softened and he took a careful step forward.

"I.. I deeply apologize," he said quietly, lifting his servos to take the miner's shoulder plates and help him up. "I did not mean to harm you. Allow me to-"

Narrowbolt grunted like a furious animal as his arm flew up and hastily swatted the medic's servos away. Ratchet saw genuine fear and hate flash in those yellow optics as the miner tensed and backed away like cornered prey. The bronze mech made a sharp noise as he suddenly turned and limped out the exit at a surprising speed. Ratchet gasped and almost went after him, but stopped short. With a sigh, he stepped back, realized that Narrowbolt would only be more upset if he followed him.

How can I blame him? he thought to himself as he began to clean the room. It's my unfair world that makes me seem like his enemy.

~

The Light Cycle had long since passed, much to Ratchet's annoyance. He had been hoping to go back to his own home before the Dark Cycle had come. The medical wing had kept him even longer than anticipated, which frustrated him to no end. He absolutely loved his job, but working near his limits just because everyone else was too lazy was not an ideal way to work the Solar Cycle away. As he walked down out of the building in silence, he was a little comforted to see that most of the Cybertronians had gone home to recharge for the remain of the Dark Cycle. At least he would have peace and quiet for the remainder of his time before he, too, went to recharge.

As he began to walk down the streets towards home, his plates began to tense at the dangerous air around him. He tried to look normal as he noticed that the remaining civilians were all staring him down from dark corners. Ratchet realized with a start that they were all lower class, and weren't paying attention to their curfew. He turned his helm back to his path, trying not to glance again and again at the mech's he was passing, all of them with glares and arms crossed. There were only so many of them, but he eventually realized with fright that they were following him. Swallowing nervously at the tense air, he turned a corner to go home a different way than he normally did, hoping to lose those stalking him.

Bad idea.

Ratchet stopped short in the dark street when he saw three mechs standing there waiting for him. The Energon lights above him were flickering, while some were dim, or even shut off. The lower class citizens were all strong and brawny, making the medic even more nervous.He jumped when he heard more pedesteps behind him, turning his helm sharply to see that the others that had been following him were here now as well. He plates flared up as his chassis froze, his optics warily sliding back over to the three in front of him.

The three, obviously miners, parted when another mech made his way towards Ratchet from behind them. The medic squinted to see in the dim light, but jumped when he saw who it was. The bronze mech had a heavy limp, a hated look in his optics, and once clenched servo, while the other hung uselessly by his side.

"Narrowbolt!" Ratchet cried in shock, wondering what the miner was doing here.

The broze mech growled, baring his denta at the medic. His optics flashed dangerously as he turned his helm to the lower class citizens around them. "Dis is the mech that tried to take mah own spark!" he shouted into the darkness, raising his now useless servo. "He took this away from me in th' effort, and in the medical wing, none less!"

"No, I-" Ratchet began, raising his servos as fear filled him, but he was stopped when those around him gave a fierce, angry cry. His optics widened and his denta clenched in fear as they circled around him, getting closer with each step.

"Let's show dis higher class brat that we're stronger th'n some rich medic!" Narrowbolt continued, his words like daggers and his optics like fire.

Ratchet once again opened his derma to speak, his spark skipping a beat out of pure terror, but before he could say anything, a fist slammed into his lower jaw, leaving a sickening crunching sound in the air as it echoed for a moment. The medic stumbled and hit the wall beside him, agony flying up his helm as several lights flashed at his vision. A strained groan left his derma as he blinked dizzily, raising his servo to his mouth. He felt something warm, tingly, and wet leaking through his denta and derma, and wiped it gingerly with his digits. He lifted his servo to his optics and stared in horror at the Energon that stained them. His other servo reached up to his jaw and he grabbed it carefully. Pain screamed at him and he flinched, knowing that it was definitely out of its proper joint. Though his processor yelled at him not to, he snatched it harshly and shoved it back, making a loud pop appear. Bigger pain slammed into him, his entire helm pounding, and he made a short cry afterwards. He coughed out a bit more Energon from his mouth to the ground, doubling over a little as more dots danced in his optics. Finally, he looked up to see they were all surrounding him, having cornered him into that wall.

"That was only a taste," one of them said, grinding his fist into his open palm.

Narrowbolt shoved his way into the middle, approaching the medic first. "Teach you to try 'n think yerself better 'n me," he whispered to him with a murderous look in his optics.

Ratchet vented heavily with a terrified expression, his chassis shaking as the miner lifted his fist to strike him again.

~

The sound of a spark monitor slowly began to echo in his processor. He realized after a moment that he was coming back online, and a moment later he felt the dull throb of pain in his helm and chassis. Ratchet's optics were slow to open, his vision in and out of focus as he stared at the bright light above him. He squinted and grit his denta, flinching a little as he began to fully wake. Now, even more pain seemed to throw itself into him, and he groaned softly and closed his optics again.

"Ah, good," came a voice beside him, startling the young medic. "You're back online."

Ratchet turned his helm sharply, though his neck cords throbbed harshly. He relaxed when he saw that it was another medic beside him. He recognized him as Pharma, another medic that wasn't too much younger than Ratchet himself. The standing medic smiled softly down at Ratchet, a screen in front of him that flashed with different readings.

"What..," the orange and white mech started, straining to sit up. "How did I get here?" His arms that he used to push himself up began to shake and he couldn't get up any farther.

Pharma shook his helm and gently pushed Ratchet back down onto the berth. "Careful, you aren't exactly in tip-top shape," he said with a tut. "You have several damages to your inner protoform, as well as your outer husk," he told him, waving his servo for the screen and show him. Ratchet was a little surprised to see how much damage he had taken.

"Someone found you early in the Light Cycle. Looked like you had been there all night," Pharma explained. "They called and told us where you were, saying it looked like you had been nearly beaten to offline."

Ratchet shuddered as the dark memories from the earlier filled his helm, the horror making his spark sink in fear. "I was there... all during the Dark Cycle?" Ratchet asked quietly, making a face.

Pharma nodded and waved the glowing screen away. "Correct. Witnesses say they saw miners wandering around before you got off work. Is it true they're the ones that beat you?" he asked, his voice turning dark as he narrowed his optics.

Ratchet flinched, swallowing quietly before nodding his helm. "Yes, it was," he said in a quiet voice, avoiding his gaze.

The medic scoffed in disgust as he turned to leave. "Savages," he growled. "Makes me wonder why you wanted to help that mech last Solar Cycle anyways." He paused and gave him a smirk before he walked out the door. "Bet you won't be doing something like that again."

Ratchet watched him go a little sadly, still laying back on the berth. He turned his helm back the ceiling, losing himself in his thoughts. Pharma's words and last night's incident echoed in his processor over and over, and he closed his eyes with a groan. The miners certainly had been horrendous, but were the higher class citizens really being any different?

"Bet you won't be doing something like that again."

No, he thought to himself sadly. If I had the chance, I would do it all over again, just to help that mech. And I would do it in the future, too.

Though he didn't know it, that would hold true to him for a long time, but there were those he could never bring himself to trust and fix again.

Funny how things change.

~

This one shot is based on the picture above, and this one, too. Lol they are both in my Pics book, and my ridiculous brain thought of a couple oneshots for them, so I just combined them into this one.

Guys, slavery was real in society. And even now, society has a problem. Several see themselves as better than others. We are all equal in the sight of God, and all loved equally by him.

I hope you enjoyed this.