[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Format (Closed for now)

[Ratchet]

(Week 2, day 2 - Nevada)

The afternoon sun was delightfully warm. It was one of those beautiful days where the sun was shining in a brilliant blue sky, not a cloud to be seen, yet it wasn’t uncomfortably hot. There was, rather, a delicious cool breeze that managed to spring up from time to time to reduce the heat from the air. Where a cool breeze managed to come from in Nevada, only it knew, and it wasn’t talking.

Thick tires turned neatly on the black asphalt, humming evenly. Even this made a pleasant drone, comfortable and content. It was a sound of relaxation, of peace and quiet. No loud noises, no shocking explosions, or curses, no one lobbing Lob-Balls at anyone. Just warmth, and peace and quiet. Only an occasional excited bird managed to break the smooth hum, belting out a song of nests and bugs and mates and flying. It was a little surprising how loud such small creatures could be.

The Ford 2011 Ambulance rolled along the blacktop, not really noticed by the occasional human vehicle that passed it. No lights, no sirens meant no danger, no drama, no fear or concern. This was just an Ambulance going from one place to another. Perhaps transporting a passenger from the hospital back home. Maybe the drivers had completed their run and now they were just looking for a place to grab a bite to eat, while waiting for the radio to crackle to life again. Some of the humans who passed by paused for a moment in their lives to wonder what it was like being a paramedic. What things they saw in the run of a day, what things they encountered. But then their minds would turn to victims of crime, of vehicle accidents, or shooting accidents, and they would give a faint whisper of thanks they were lawyers, or teachers, or bookstore operators, and would continue on their way.

The Ambulance never sped, it never drove too slowly.

Ratchet seldom left Omega, and when he did, he was usually accompanying Optimus, or going to or from a medical emergency. He was usually too busy to just go for a “joyride”, as it was called. There were always things to do, things to see to, things that had to be filed or fixed or created.

Today, however, a rare opportunity presented itself to him. There were no medical emergencies that needed his direct attention. Patch was there to see to any lesser emergencies short of complete and total devastation in the base, and with Neon there, the demand on his time for constantly repairing or creating was lessened.

For the first time in a very long time, Ratchet discovered he had free time on his hands.

At first he felt conflicted. Just leaving the base seemed wrong somehow. Like he was sneaking off to do something illegal. Like he was letting someone, or something, down. But try as hard as he might, he couldn’t think of anything that really needed him right now.

So...free time.

Now what to do with it?

Being on Earth wasn’t like being back on Cybertron. He had no books to catch up on, there were no medical journals to keep up with. The few hobbies he had developed over time simply couldn’t be done here on Earth, so that severely limited anything he might do. For a few seconds he flirted with the thought of actually just trying to get another few hours of recharge...but knew there was no way that would happen. Since he had been made CMO his processor had learned to run at full tilt until it shut down out of sheer exhaustion. There would be no napping.

So...a drive.

It felt odd to him, not really having any particular goal. He wasn’t really going to anyplace in particular. In the end, he decided to just...go sight seeing. And while if you’ve seen one organic planet you’ve pretty much seen them all....there were some local areas that were supposed to be rather lovely to observe. A set of deep canyons, a fast river at the bottom. The hues there were rumoured to be breathtaking. And while Ratchet didn’t have any breath to take....he might as well go see if it was deserving of the hype.

Rolling along until he came to the turn off from the road, the weather beaten sign directing travellers to “The Devil’s Canyon!”, Ratchet slowly eased off the tarmac and onto the dirt road. The road didn’t look very well worn – perhaps the Devil didn’t bother to visit this place very much after all, he thought.

[Ratchet]

Following the old dirt road, Ratchet eased himself past close-growing trees. Occasionally leaves or small branches would brush up against his sides as he carefully moved along, kicking up a very small plume of dust. It was apparent this place didn’t see a lot of people out this way – or at least no one had bothered to cut back the trees. Which was fine by Ratchet. It meant there were fewer humans he might encounter and try to pass as one of them.

He bounced along the path a few more minutes before the dirt road opened up into a small clearing. Grass was growing up through the dirt as nature attempted to reclaim the site. A few well worn picnic tables stood sad sentry around the clearing, all the paint worn away by years of sun and rain. A small display board still held ragged notices and pamphlets from long ago, the edges torn and damaged, the paper weather beaten, most of the ink gone. The board seemed to display information about the area.

Rolling to a stop where he could see down into the ravine, Ratchet stopped.

The clearing took up about 40 feet of flat space, and then dropped down into the ravines. They were deep, the sunlight just starting to tip into the bottom. From where he was, he couldn’t see into the bottom, just the tops of the ravines, stark against the blue sky.

The rocks were red and gold, striations clearly visible in the sunlight. Each striation was a different time in Earth’s geology, carrying with it it’s own history and chemistry.

Pausing for a moment, the driver’s side door of the Ambulance opened, and a human stepped out.

Or what looked like a human.

Had there been anyone else there to see, they would have observed the driver of the ambulance standing there beside the vehicle. He seemed almost dazed for a moment, as if not aware of his surroundings or just where he was. In reality, Ratchet was adjusting to his holoform, it being the first time he had ever used this particular one. He wasn’t particularly fond of them....and it wasn’t often he was on a world where he had to blend in. Most worlds he had been to were aware of Cybertronians, so he had never really had to use a holoform. But here, now, if he wanted to get closer to the sights, he would have do use one.

The male human was about 5’10 or so. Not overly tall, but not short either. He was stocky, almost square in build. Thick arms ended in large hands, yet with fine tendons clearly visible on the backs. The Paramedic uniform he was wearing was a dark navy, with an Autobot patch on the shoulder.

Thick hair was a coppery gold, consisting of tight curls cut close, almost buzzcut length. Sideburns of the same color eased down before his ears. A goatee of the same curly color graced his chin. Both the hair on his head, and his goatee had silver threads mixed in, revealing a human age of about 50 or so. It was difficult, however, to tell his exact age, for there were crow’s feet at the corner of his faded denim blue eyes, his skin seemed to have a faint bronze cast of someone who had been in the sun a long time, but his body still seemed strong and fit. Thick reddish eyebrows sat above the eyes.

After a moment of getting his wits about him, and getting feedback from the holoform, Ratchet started forward. A few slight staggers as he managed to work on his stride, and he was moving towards the notice board.

Squinting slightly up at the board, Ratchet noticed advertisements for old parties and events, as well as historical facts of the area. Leaving that for the time being, he turned his attention to moving forward, to peer down into the ravine.

It was deeper than he had thought, and the water rushing at at the base was a dark blue, almost black. It looked cold and fast.

He peered back up again, at the tops of the ravine.

He had to admit....it was sort of pretty here.

[Ren]

Everything was so eerily calm up here on the small clearing. Quiet, too - save for the humming trill and buzzing of insects in the nearby brush. A gentle breeze that carried with it the warmth of the afternoon sunshine, picking up a long discarded chip packet and carrying it a short distance before the breath of air dissipated just as quickly as it came.

There was subtle movement nearby, though. A lone figure nestled in the trees that the ambulance had passed minutes earlier would quietly murmur into a radio before gesturing to the ground with one hand, raising a pair of binoculars with the other to keep a watchful gaze on the solitary male at the top of the ravine. Well out of earshot and crouched in a way that he was mostly covered by foliage, he blended in well.

This had to go according to plan.

The majority of the human vehicles that Ratchet had passed on his way here had paid him little mind. Without the blaring siren or the flashing of lights, there was a sense of calm and they wouldn’t look his way twice.

But he had been noticed.

Trailing far behind had been a single, green Ford Mustang with three males inside the blacked out windows. It made a point to remain at least a few cars behind the ambulance, and even once Ratchet had turned off road, they did not follow. At least, not at first. Circling back and lagging behind him as he made his way to what they could only assume was the mostly disused tourist spot, but more importantly?

A dead end.

Then, it’d been a simple matter of setting up a barricade. A simple road block, with one of the males standing guard for the moment, ready to send away any civilians who happened to stray into the area. Another soldier had scrambled up into the trees to keep an eye on the Cybertronian and the third would wait in the vehicle as backup was called.

And it would not take long to arrive.

Over the distant hills, the low thrum of helicopter blades could be heard. This alone was not overly suspicious, it could’ve been anything - a police helicopter doing a routine patrol over a highway, or even medical doing an emergency airlift to one of the many hospitals that were scattered throughout the state and those nearby. But it was definitely getting closer.

A gentle scrabble as the soldier who had been perched in the tree made his way down, combat boots quiet against the dry and dusty ground as he moved closer with careful footing. A bit of a run, but he closed the distance quickly enough, hoping the figure at the ravine would be distracted by the distant hills and the beauty of it all, even though it would not last. He would duck down and out the way, careful to hide himself behind one of the picnic tables that’d seen better days, signalling once more.

Behind him, another soldier - the one who had been standing guard had now moved into the fray. Footsteps equally quiet, although he was holding a weapon of some sort. Scrambling into the edge of the clearing, he would quickly shift down to a knee - lifting the modified AT-4 to rest on his shoulder and aiming it toward the ambulance.

Then he fired.

The clunk of something that wasn’t a traditional bullet exiting the barrel of the gun would be the only real warning that something was happening. As the projectile got closer to its intended target, Ratchet would likely feel an odd disturbance to his field. A tingling like drone, almost akin to reverberation against his metal frame.

The insects stopped their chittering and buzzing at the disruption.

The projectile hit its mark a split-second later - an easy target all things considered, given the width of the ambulance and the fact it was not moving. The object in question was a rather unassuming - a simple round, flat disk that afixed with a powerful magnet, about 4 inches across in diameter.

It had no tell-tale signs of anything malicious, aside from the fact it could not be pried off with ease. There were no blinking lights or wires, nor did any of the males seem to hold a remote as if to detonate it like an explosive device.

But Ratchet would feel it. A fizzy, static filled hum would rattle his frame - an annoyance at best, not enough to paralyze or stop him from moving. However, any attempts made to call back to whoever his friends were would be blocked, the signal not going through.

The thrum of helicopter blades grew ever closer, and the car that’d been lurking among the trees had pulled forward.

[Ratchet]

Here, now, in this area, it was surprisingly quiet and peaceful. No people, no loud children, just silence, and the burbling of the water down below. It was actually very-

His field suddenly seemed to shudder, folding out in jagged spikes, not unlike how a human feels when their hair stands on end. It was a very startling sensation, and the holoform seemed to straighten for a moment, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

Ratchet felt the impact on the back end of his alt form. It didn’t really hurt so much as it was another shock. A loud, rather hard slap, as if someone had given him a forceful, open handed smack. The ambulance gave a faint bounce when it hit.

Now the weird sensation tripled, running over his body. As before, it didn’t hurt, but it felt so very strange. What Raf would have called “pins and needles” slipping over the length of him.

He didn’t know what was going on, and he didn’t like it. At all.

Perhaps it was time to get back to the base.

His holoform flickering and disappearing, Ratchet slipped into reverse, and started backing up the way he had come.

He only made it a few feet backwards when something came into view directly behind him.

There was a human there.

The person, appearing to be a human male, standing alongside a barricade. A green Ford Mustang was now parked there. The male seemed to be looking his way, taking occasional glances towards the road he had used himself not too long ago.

Ratchet remained still, idling. He didn’t want to go hurtling down towards the human if he had just slipped into an area he wasn’t supposed to be. Maybe this place was off limits for safety reasons. Primus knew, it looked unused.

Still, there was a strange sense of....purpose...in the way the human stood. Almost military, and yet...

He still wasn’t feeling the best. The strange crawling sensation was still there, and he decided it might be best to just try and bluff his way out of there.

::This is Ratchet, calling Omega base. I’m sending you my co-ordinates. Got a little problem here..with...::

He paused. His comm was dead.

That couldn’t be right. He wasn’t in a dead zone. And even if he was, he should still be able to hear open air. This was like his comm wasn’t working at all, as if...

He were being blocked.

Ratchet suddenly realized the car was now creeping forward, and there was clearly the sound of helicopter blades cutting the air. They weren’t close, but they were getting louder.

“You have got to be kidding me! The one day I leave the base...!”

Well, he couldn’t go back. They were still a little too close to the road, and if he hurt one of the humans and there were witnesses, he’d have a convoy of police cars chasing him. Not to mention he had no idea what these idiots were carrying with them.

Only way to go, then. Forward.

Tires suddenly spinning, kicking up a spray of dirt, the ambulance lunged forward, heading straight for the ravine.

The cloud of dust rose behind him, as Ratchet plowed his way through the post and fence with the sound of old rotten wood splintering, and the ambulance soared out into the air in a lazy sort of arc.

As the vehicle started to fall, Ratchet transformed, planting heavy peds against the edge of the cliff side, kicking off again. He reached out with a hand, grasping onto various jutting rocks as he dropped, attempting to slow his descent. A few minutes later, he splashed down into the ravine, standing unevenly in the ankle-deep freezing water.

[Ren]

Even if the soldiers hadn’t of known that this was one of their intended targets, the brief flicker of the man before he vanished entirely was all the evidence they needed to know that they were correct - this was a Cybertronian.

They’d hit their mark, now it was a brief waiting game to see what he did next. Would he stand and try and fight, or would he try to flee? Even despite the fact he hadn’t shifted into his Cybertronian form, the men were tense with eyes locked on him, watching as the ambulance began to reverse. Should he feel cornered or trapped, everything could change in an instant.

One that was not necessarily in their favor- even if the ambulance should no longer be able to call for any kind of backup, a lone Cybertronian was still dangerous and so the two men on foot would hold their position, unmoving.

Almost as if they were trying to ‘nudge’ him in the right direction, though, the green Mustang eeked forwards just slightly. There was no way out this way except through, and while the only visible weapon was the modified AT-4, they hadn’t come unprepared, even if the last thing they wanted here was a combat situation.

A pause then. He stopped. The insects were still deathly silent at the movement of the vehicles around them, the only sound the now not-so-distant whirring of helicopter blades.

The tension was so thick in this momentary lull that one could almost cut it with a knife - the men watched; the one crouched behind the picnic table holding his breath, heart pounding in his chest as they waited to see what the Cybertronian’s next move would be.

Spinning tires, a spray of dirt.

He’d chosen to flee - lunging forwards in sudden movement, a crash as he plowed through the rotten fencing without stopping as he plunged off the side of the cliff. The two men not in the vehicle would push forward in a hurried scramble, sprinting toward the edge and looking down into the ravine below.

They couldn’t follow - the cliff side far too harsh and steep for them to traverse with ease, at least not quickly.

But they could watch.

There weren’t many places he could go from here, he was no flier and the terrain would be working against him no matter which form he chose.

One of the men spoke into a radio, but he needn’t have bothered reporting the situation - as moments later there was a welcome sight coming over the other side of the ravine. The AH-64 Apache tilted forwards some, hovering in place with rotors spinning - watching Ratchet, waiting for him to make the first move.

[Ratchet]

Nearly at the bottom of the ravine, Ratchet stumbled a few times, trying to get his footing. The rock walls were uneven, and he found his peds sliding with horrific screeching sounds as he slid a few more feet, eventually finding a place he could balance. Of sorts. The cold water flowed past his feet, halfway up his legs, dark and chilling. While possibly a danger to any humans or animals that found themselves caught up in the rushing river, it was no threat to Ratchet.

It was, however, a hindrance.

Trying to move forward, the doctor found that his movements were slowed. Sluggish, he waded forward slightly, peering up at the top of both sides of the ravine he found himself in.

With a muffled curse, he tried again to send out a radio signal, to let Omega know where he was. And again, he was only met with dead air.

He could even reach around and pry the damned thing off, it was too neatly out of his reach.

Well, he supposed he could always move forward, and try to find a way back up, and -

The heavy pulsing beat of a helicopter’s rotors became louder, now echoing all around him, filling the ravine with a loud rhythmic thunder.

Ratchet cast a baleful glance towards it. It was too much to hope for that it was Carbine, or even one of Fowler’s men who had seen what was going on.

No. That Apache carried no sigils of Fowler’s team.

Ratchet started to feel a faint stirring of unease. Not fear...unease. This was starting to look a little “hairy”, as the humans liked to say.

Pushing aside any questions he had on just how they had found him, Ratchet decided that if nothing else, he was going to make it hard for them.

He pushed back the start of the nagging thoughts that were waking up....a particular fear of his that he had always managed to strangle down...he refused to give into it.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, then,” Ratchet rumbled, low and heavy.

Pushing off, the white and orange-red mech started forward into the ravine. Heavy peds splashed down as he ran, attempting to leap clear of the water as much as he could, trying to prevent the river from slowing him down too much.

He had no idea where he was running to, or how he was going to avoid being seen by any other humans. All he could hope for at the moment, was that the ravine he was in would become shallow enough that he could get out, head back towards Jasper, and vanish into the city, where MECH wouldn’t be able to openly attack him for fear of being spotted themselves.

Settling into a thick stride, Ratchet started to move forward.

[Ren]

Slowly, carefully, one of the men would begin to ease his way down the jagged rocks of the small cliff face. There was absolutely no way he could traverse it with the speed that Ratchet had, even with his protective gear - but should the helicopter fail to succeed at its task, they simply could not afford to let the Cybertronian target get away from them, even if all he could do was try and keep eyes on it from afar.

The other man with the weapon merely grumbled, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort of attempting to follow - cracking his neck and making his way back to the waiting car. He’d done his part, now it was just a matter of waiting for the others to follow through with theirs. As much as he wanted to see the show as it played out before him, the fun part was still to come should they succeed- and that was what he cared about most.

This was a bit of a predicament in some ways. They hadn’t expected their target to hurtle fully down into the ravine the way he had. Hoping to corner him at the edge and possibly fight with the intent to possibly offline, this was certainly new and changed the game. In some ways it could be argued that Ratchet had made their job easier, even if it meant their time was far more limited with more risk involved now.

Meanwhile, Ratchet had begun to move along the water. The helicopter remained hovering where it was for the moment, its two occupants simply watching the orange and white mech make his way through the rushing water of the small river, deciding how to proceed.

MECH were nothing but efficient, however - able to overcome and adapt, this would hopefully be no different.

Ratchet was given a couple of seconds to push forwards in some futile attempt at escape before the helicopter would begin to move from its looming hover, easing forward a short ways and lowering down so it was nestled between the two sides of the cliff to act as cover, while remaining safely airborne.

The concealment provided by the ravine would not last forever for neither MECH nor the Cybertronian, and so it was now or never before they did end up drawing more attention to the helicopter than they likely already had.

Keeping some distance between themselves and their target, just in case he did turn and fire or do some sort of attack, they would make the first move while his back was turned. A violent but short blast was heard, the noise echoing across the rocky walls of the ravine. A single shot had been fired, but it wasn’t a standard missile, nor any sort of weapon that could pierce armor.

For a flicker of a moment, it looked more akin to a cannonball than anything else, but as it hurtled toward its target, it would sprawl open to reveal itself. It wasn’t such a bludgeoning weapon at all, but a single sphere of tightly woven cables and parts that crackled through the air loudly as it unfurled - it was a net, and the webbing that made it was electrified.

Peppered at each end of the circular net sat weights, constructed of a solid metal sphere with powerful magnets nestled within. There were three oversized hooks in a Y shape at the ‘corners’, attached to larger orbs that housed small but powerful battery packs. The sharpened prongs were designed to snag into armor plating while simultaneously pulsing with a high electrical charge not only through the hooks themselves, but the mesh that made up the netting in an attempt to incapacitate.

It wasn’t the first time such cables had been used against a Cybertronian, but it was the first time they’d been used against a moving target.

Should the netting hit its mark, it would curl and lash around Ratchet quickly, the hooks piercing wherever they fell and jolting him with pulses of electricity. The plan had changed in an instant; if Ratchet had remained on the overlook, they had no qualms in offlining him right there to take his body for research, but it seemed an executive decision had been made.

This was now a live capture mission.

The turret of the gun would angle upwards just slightly as its systems churned with a snarled whir, a new cartridge loading into place - just in case they had to fire again.


-
((So sorry for the delay on this. Was stressing over the net system far too much for far too long, worked with Zer to get a ‘standard’ one sorted for multiple threads. The quick doodle of the net was done by Zer!))

[Ratchet]

Ratchet was trying to figure out just where the hell he was planning on going if he made it out of the canyon.

He had no idea where it led. It might open out straight into a mall parking lot filled with families out getting food. Three steps out, and there could be hundreds of humans, staring at a giant orange-red and white alien robot, being chased by a military-looking helicopter.

Fowler couldn’t cover that up with a story about toxic waste.

As he ran, splashing cold water up around his knees, he heard an explosive sound, like a shotgun or rifle. The echo sounded around him, as he continued to run, and he instinctively hunched his shoulders for a second. Had it been a Cybertronian shooting at him, he would have been expecting to feel a red hot laser slicing into him, or the explosive punch of a blaster. In the short few seconds, as he ran, he felt a faint stuttering of fear in his spark, not sure what was going to actually hit him.

He started to turn, perhaps to try and duck whatever was coming at him, or to at least turn and see it, when he felt something strike him.

It hit his upper left shoulder hard. The shocking, sudden weight of it on one side of his body spun him around with a grunt, his center of balance shifted, then destroyed. Ratchet’s backpack was heavy, and if pushed too far off his center of balance, as now, it was shockingly easy to tip him.

As he spun about, he felt something wrap itself around him, whipping around his back and right hip, continuing to spin, entangling both his legs. Pain lanced through him, like something sharp, biting at him.

Ratchet went down, hard.

A heavy crash as dense alien metal struck Earth rock, sparks spitting out. Ratchet’s helm struck the rock hard enough that his vision stuttered for a second, inner lenses having to reset themselves. A short, loud cry of pain.

He fought.

He had to get up. He had to keep moving. MECH was no joke, and he couldn’t give them an inch.

Before he was even able to try to right himself, all his senses suddenly were set on fire.

Electricity fizzled across his frame, igniting bright blue sparks to dance along the lines of the net. Ratchet clamped his teeth, locking back the pain he hadn’t been expecting.

Not quite panic....not yet...not..yet...

Pushing past the start of the pain, pulling in harsh gasps of air to circulate and try to cool systems that were starting to overheat, Ratchet shifted, taking stock.

A...net...of some kind. Wrapped around him, points literally embedded in his mesh in some places. His right arm was free...and only his right arm. The rest of him was neatly trapped and wrapped, like an insect in a web.

Ratchet hissed in pain as another electrical shock jolted through his frame, cursing lowly.

“If you want to play, fine! I can play with the best of them!”

His right arm moved, hand shifting. The hand vanished up into the right forearm. Plates inside the firearm, neatly stacked one atop the other, now slide forward, rotating, clicking tightly against others, each one sliding out and aligning with the others, too fast for the eye to really see. Within seconds, a long, lethal looking blade had extended out from his wrist.

Ratchet shifted as best as he was able, angling the blade down along his side, slipping the razor edge under one of the strands of the net, and with a flick, attempted to sever the net.

A bad move.

The moment the net’s outer protective covering split, the electricity ramped up, flashing across the doctor’s body.

With a scream of pain, Ratchet’s body arched, spasms forcing his frame and limbs to stiffen and freeze. His processor jumped and stuttered, circuits unable to do anything other than carry the message of error, pain, critical result. His optics shut down, images flashing, unable to process.

The shock, the pain, only lasted a few seconds, but to Ratchet it felt like forever, before it finally eased back. Still whipping through his body, causing pain, but at a more manageable level. His frame released, Ratchet collapsed against the rocky side of the canyon, water crashing up and over him, as he weakly dragged in air to force cool his taxed systems.

[Ren]

There was a soft click as the turret moved back into place, locking once again onto Ratchet.

But they did not fire again- not yet. The helicopter hovered cautiously in place, watching from afar as their target went down hard; crashing into the rocks below. The two men held their breath, watching curiously to see how events would play out. The netting had only been used once before on a live target, and it hadn’t been around water. The net system was an annoyance on its own, but without the added electricity, it’d make their job harder - and it was a few lingering seconds before they saw what they needed.

The bright blue tell-tale sparks as the electricity kicked in after a moment were nothing short of relief, only- the white and orange mech seemed to be fighting through the pain that jolted through his frame and systems.

They had other plans should this not work, and the helicopter would creep forwards some. Their movements slow, overly wary of any type of weaponry that could be fired their way.

But it seemed as the Cybertronian moved, he only managed to get himself tangled further.

Yet he still had fight in him, even if he wasn’t getting very far with his movements, he was fighting it. One of the men watched through binoculars, clicking his tongue in apparent disapproval as the blade shifted into view. The mesh that made up the netting was strong, but they were hurting for test subjects when it came to proving its worth.

The man with the binoculars held up a hand as if to signal his partner to ‘wait’ as he watched. Should this netting fail, another was primed and ready to go, but he wanted to wait and see what happened in these next few moments.

A low chuckle escaped him at the events that unfolded - a brighter flash, the covering of the netting splitting under the blade, sending what looked to be a powerful surge of electricity through their target. Unexpected, but beneficial.

They couldn’t hear the scream of pain from here, but there was something so deliciously satisfying about watching Ratchet’s frame arch and spasm, before collapsing once more against the rocks.

They’d have to move quickly, the noise would’ve no doubt carried and they did not need any attention drawn onto themselves. A muttered word spoken, an order, the helicopter would fire the other net down onto Ratchet now he had stilled in his movements - adding insult to injury no doubt, but they were being overly cautious. The last thing they needed was for their target to somehow escape in these next crucial moments.

Just like before, the netting would open and entwine around Ratchet’s frame, jolting him with further electricity as the prongs sank into his armor wherever they landed, hopefully stunning him to the point he would be temporarily immobilized.

The helicopter would swoop forwards then, moving to hover above Ratchet. While the Cybertronian was far too large to be pulled up into the helicopter itself, they had more than enough power to simply lift and carry him to wherever they needed. A heavy clunk was heard as a compartment on the bottom of the helicopter shifted open, and a thick cable would unfurl. Prongs similar to those of the netting would hook into the mesh wiring of the net below in various places, and a tentative tug would be done to make sure that it was secure.

Then, Ratchet would be lifted. A wrench sounding as the cable was hauled upwards so he was closer to the chopper than the ground below. The helicopters systems strained some, a groan and whirred roar as it adjusted to the new weight, before they pushed forwards - taking their prisoner to somewhere unknown.

-

The lone soldier who had scrabbled down the rocks finally made his way to the bottom of the ravine. He was absolutely positive he’d seen something fall off during Ratchet’s thrashing in the net, and wanted to be doubly sure that nothing was left behind.

Quickly making his way over to the area where Ratchet had fallen, it did not take him long to notice that the magnetic disk that’d been attached to the Cybertronian to initially block his signal had fallen free - no doubt due to the surges of electricity breaking the magnetism - and was half-submerged in the water.

Something to keep in mind the next time it was used, and he made a mental note to pass it along to the technicians who developed the device. With a frown, he would scoop up the piece of equipment, squinting some into the distance in the direction the helicopter had flown.

Eh, even if the Cybertronian was lucid enough to get a call for help out? It wasn’t like his friends would ever find him.

With a huff of a grunt, he would begin walking alongside the small river, radioing for pickup whenever convenient.

[Ratchet]

Aching, lost in a haze of the echos of agony, Ratchet hung limply in the netting.

His systems were still frazzled, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. Being overloaded with electricity like that... Cybertronian systems were generally well grounded when it came to the electricity of Earth systems. They themselves used far more power in minor circuits than humans did in their houses.

This was different, though.

This wasn’t something slapped together by two humans in a garage. MECH had clearly been doing their homework and knew more now about what could be used as a weapon against their kind.

He ached. He hurt so badly he was trembling.

His joints felt hot, as if they had been worked on with a welder and not shielded. Legs felt like rubber hoses. Even if he hadn’t been dangling helplessly in the net, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to stand on them. He couldn’t move his arms, and he head felt like it had been crushed.

The heavy thumping of the helicopter’s blades overhead seemed to bounce around the canyon and echo back and forth, filling his conscious like a panicked creature’s pump.

Not too different from what his own was doing at the moment.

Gathering himself, expecting another shot of the agonizing pain to go ripping through his systems, Ratchet tried to wiggle, to writhe and fight back, perhaps force the helicopter to land, fight his way free. Sadly, however, he was only able to make the tiniest of movements, and the helicopter above him didn’t seem to falter whatsoever.

Weakly, Ratchet peered out through the net as the canyon started to drop away beneath him, and he had to face the reality he wasn’t getting out of this easy...if at all. No. MECH was going to carry him off to some secret location, where he’d be tortured and chopped up, after first being emptied of all his knowledge first.

Panic suddenly welled up within him, and with a desperate curse, he tried to work free a second time.

This time, another surge of electricity flowed from the net, racing over his frame once more, crackling cruelly against his metallic skin. It would only allow so much movement, apparently, before giving a secondary shot.

Again, Ratchet’s tired frame spasmed, this time not even a pain filled scream could echo out. His denta were ground together so hard that for a moment he thought he might break his own jaw, only a faint huffing sound forcing past.

The helicopter moved on.

Finally, the pain subsided, and Ratchet sagged again, drawing cool air into his stressed systems, forcing the hot air out through the vents in his frame.

It’s no good. I’m trapped. It’s over.

A faint surge of grief moved through the old doctor.

This had been his biggest fear. He could have taken being kidnapped by the Decepticons again in stride. That would have only offered death. But this....this was different. This was fear on another level, and for another reason the other Autobots didn’t have to worry about.

I shouldn’t complain, he thought weakly to himself, It’s been a damn good run. I’ve outlived just about everyone else I know, and I was still useful up to the end.

I just wish I could have seen Cybertron restored first.

A long, low exhale.

Well, he had prepared for this, after all.

Unaware the small magnetic blocker had fallen off, Ratchet sent out a signal through his ultra low frequency channel, the signal moving from the antenna on his back. It could always get through, even when the usual high frequency communications were blocked. The problem was it took much longer to travel, and so was therefore only used in emergencies.

I’m sorry.

Once the signal had been sent, Ratchet paused for the briefest of seconds, before executing another code he had set up himself, a while back.

There was a faint surge of power within the old doctor, a normally offline system powering up. Before his closed eyes, red Cybertronian text moved across his vision.

:::System 01011000 enacted. Converting power to secondary circuitry.:::

Suddenly, there was an intense flare of pain in his head, hot and sharp, stabbing like a dagger.

:::Warning! Thermal irregularity in processor. Enable primary venting? Y/N:::

Another burst of pain, this one much more intense. It tore through his helm and echoes down through his body, and then....nothing.

The body in the netting, suspended from the helicopter sagged.

There was nothing. Just peace.

Silence.

Oblivion.




Fifteen minutes later, within the Omega base, the Autobots went on with their day. Chores were done, tasks were performed.

Within the Prime’s personal quarters, his computer monitor, previously black and silent, lit up. A single sentence appeared on the screen;

MESSAGE FROM UNIT RATCHET TO UNIT OPTIMUS PRIME OPEN MESSAGE Y/N?

[Optimus Prime]

-------------------

Things seemed to be going a bit smoother since he had spoken with Ratchet. Or, if it was not actually going better, Optimus was handling it with a bit more stability since the previous week when he had been feeling overburdened. A lack of delegating tasks was a large problem, one that was starting to be rectified as others around the base would be given more chores and tasks to focus their attention upon. No more waiting for monitor or scouting duty, no more lurking around waiting for some alarm that didn't seem to come. Things were going to get better, and it permitted the Prime to actually try and take Ratchet's advice for once and attempt to find a moment of downtime.

Trying to relax was a sort of novel concept of its own, one that would be a chore and then some to attempt to find. Yet, it was here Optimus found himself, sitting at his desk with a datapad in one hand and a ration in the other. He was flicking through books and topics of the local word to read, something that would interest him on some level that wasn't tactically driven with an intent to learn about more useful topics. It was tricky however, a feeling of obligation, yet... he was trying to find balance of some kind, despite it being out of his nature...

Across the way his terminal illuminated.

It wasn't uncommon for Optimus' terminal to illuminate like this. More often than not it was mundane topics or low priority situations. An incoming mail of some sort from Agent Fowler updating him on something, a report from Red Alert or another Autobot to be filed away, or even on rare occasion a general error due to the cobbled mess of Cybertronian and Earth technology... A quick reboot of the systems often fixed the issue well enough, and because of this when the screen flickered on, it did not particularly surprise him.

Especially since anything of REAL importance tended to come through on a more direct line.

The Prime eased his datapad down some, gaze flicking over to the screen with a glance. If Fowler took the time to mail him something instead of call and patch in then it couldn’t be time sensitive... yet, try as he might to play into the idea of 'downtime' he would not be able to manage knowing something was there. With this in mind, he placed the device fully down and pushed up into a stand.

A soft snort of systems going active, a subtle roll of his shoulder... with an eased movement Optimus walked over to the screen, lifting the ration up as he did so to take a drink before allowing it to settle at a comfortable height at his side. Blinking once, cyan optics focused down on the odd message, not exactly expecting something of the sort in any way, and a moment after his brows furrowed a bit. The atypical nature of the message was a bit odd, and his thoughts of reading a book were cast aside.

Reaching forward he keyed in the 'yes' command.

[Ren]

The helicopter continued onward over the desert.

Even despite their target writhing below in the net, the helicopter did not waver. The netting held Ratchet firmly, and no amount of thrashing would loosen the hold they had on him. The only relief for the Cybertronian would be after that second, larger jolt of electricity had shot through his systems. It seemed to wear the main battery packs to a point that the sparks would fizzle and taper out a few moments later into more of a mild annoyance than the painful jolts prior.

Not that it mattered, they had achieved their goal - a live capture. Should he have any fight left in him once they arrived at their destination? Well, they were more than equipped to deal with it.

Pulling further upwards as to not draw attention to their alien cargo should they be spotted, the thrum of helicopter blades would fade from the Nevada ravine just as quickly as they had arrived.

-

It did not take them long to notice that something was wrong. Every movement from Ratchet could be felt in the cockpit as he thrashed and moved in the netting. But now- there was nothing. A mumble of concern was spoken between the two men, one moving from his seat as he made his way back into the body of the helicopter, peering down past the wrench system and along the cable, trying to see if he could work out what happened.

Ratchet was no longer fighting or struggling against the mesh of the netting. There were no movements, be they voluntary or involuntary spasms from the electricity which had weakened further. His frame sagged, hanging limp in the netting.

Raising a hand to his helmet to speak into the radio, he would report back, keeping an eye on the cargo which appeared to have perished. Ah well - they’d been aiming for a live capture, but their plans would not change.

[Ratchet]

There was a soft PING! - when the Prime clicked on the “Yes” option.

::: Opening file.:::

The screen went completely black again for a second. Then it cleared, to reveal a windowed screen. At first the image was fuzzy, but it soon focused down to a clearer image, that of Ratchet’s spartan personal quarters. The picture was of a low bench tucked into a corner of the room. There were a few shelves in the room, a desk and chair, like in all the rooms within Omega. Most of the shelves had data pads lined up on them, here and there an image of an inner component, and in a few places, actual piles of paper. There appeared to be no, or very little, personal knick knacks visible here. Nothing to make it appear “homey.”

The image seemed to give a little lurch, and it became apparent it wasn’t a still picture, but rather a video. A very slight adjustment to the angle, and then Ratchet appeared. He seemed to step around what could only be the camera, and walked over to sit on the bench in the center of the video.

He looked extremely awkward, not quite sure where to put his hands. He was perched more on the very edge of the bench instead of sitting back as would be normal. Ratchet gave a few glances around the room, as if not quite sure how to get started, and finally just lowered his head. He gave a rather faint snort of amusement.

Looking up, directly at the camera, he shook his head, his voice bemused.

“Well, I have to say, I honestly never thought I’d be making one of these overly dramatic things, but...well...here we are.”

His face grew serious, blue optics focused on the camera. A soft invent, a soft exvent, and he spoke.

“At the risk of sounding melodramatic, Optimus...if you’re watching this, then I’m no longer online. I’ve been taken out – by MECH. You’re watching a video I made a while ago and coded so that if I were in danger of falling into MECH’s hands, I could activate a code and send you this. Only MECH. I think I could handle anything the Decepticons threw at me.”

Another pause, and Ratchet spoke again. This time, his voice was extremely serious. He moved his hands from his lap to rest them on the bench, on either side of him, leaning forward slightly.

“Optimus, I...I’ve been thinking quite a lot about MECH....and what could happen if I were taken prisoner. I’ve seen what they do. The way they treat us is beyond barbaric, and I’ve taken what they’ve done to our Autobots personally. The fact we had to send one away, because I had no more ideas on how to help him infuriates me beyond measure. It’s been a while since I’ve encountered such utter lack of respect for an individual’s person. It sickens me.”

Ratchet leaned back slightly, “But what frightens me, Optimus....what has been keeping me awake at night lately...is the realization of what might happen if I were caught. With my knowledge of the Cybertronian system – our technology, our biology, how to rebuild, how everything is formed and works....if that falls into their hands, then none of us is safe. Not Autobot, not Decepticon. And as much as I hate the Decepticons, I wouldn’t want that to happen to any of our people. No one deserves it.”

Another pause, as Ratchet readjusted his position on the bench again, shifting slightly.

“I decided that risk couldn’t be taken. I’d have to be utterly confined to Omega, and even then, who knows what might happen? There might be a break in some day...no. Far too risky.”

The Doctor shook his head in a strong negation.

“So, I created a code, and installed in my own helm.” There was a pause, and Ratchet gave another amused snort, “While awake, obviously. Patch could tell you how difficult that was. The code is really simple....if I’m ever caught, and I think there’s no way out, my inner cooling systems will shut down, energy will increase to my processor, the resistance will rise, and there will be a thermal destruction of my processor.”

As he had been talking, Ratchet slowly raised a hand, and gently smoothed a palm down over the top of his head – an action he had been subconsciously now for weeks.

He gave a faint smile, “Don’t worry, it should be mostly painless, if I did it right.”

Lowering his hands, Ratchet placed them on either side of himself on the bench again, the smile leaving his face, an awkward clearing of the throat.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, Optimus. I know you need help running Omega, but I just can’t risk it. Patch is capable of taking over the majority of my medical responsibilities, and I think Rafael and Neon should be able to pick up where I left off with combining human and Cybertronian tech. I’ve left both Patch and Neon a series of notes to try to bring them up to speed. I have faith in them, all three of them.”

There was another pause, this one longer. Ratchet looked down at his hands for a minute, then up again, once more, bright blue optics seeming to lock onto the viewer, on Optimus.

“Optimus....please. For Primus’ sake. If MECH somehow reactivates my frame....do the right thing. Destroy me. Please don’t let me suffer the indignity of having my corpse dancing about like some macabre marionette moving to MECH’s whimsy!” He leaned forward, “It’s no longer me. I’m gone. Destroy my body, leave nothing for MECH to use against all of you.”

There was a soft creak as Ratchet leaned back again, taking another invent, as if settling himself. The tense look on his face faded, and a softer look appeared. It was an expression few ever saw, and even Optimus himself only saw once or twice. It gave the old doctor’s face a look of peace.

“I never thought that the day I marched into the building where you were working as a humble data clerk would have led to this, Optimus. From humble beginnings, to war, to insane adventures....
I know I’ve complained pretty much every step of the way, but you managed to put up with it. At least you never vocally told me to shut up, even if you probably thought it once in a while.”

A chuckle, “And we had our fights, didn’t we? Rare, but they were there. Disagreements about this or that, both of us too stubborn to see reason.”

A soft smile.

“We always got past it, though, didn’t we? Somehow. We always got past it.”

A gentle sigh.

“It was a hell of a run, wasn’t it?”

Ratchet looked around the room he was in, a gentle smile on his face, as if seeing more than just the room around him, but into the past. After a moment, he looked back at the camera. He raised a hand to his chest, over his spark.

“It’s been an honour to serve alongside you, Optimus, and.....both an honour, and a pleasure to call you friend, Orion.

Till all are one.”

Levering his hands onto the bench on either side of himself again, Ratchet rose, and walked towards the camera, disappearing off screen. A pause, and then the camera was turned off, the screen going black and lifeless.

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus squinted ever so slightly as the imagery came up; displaying a room he recognized but had only witnessed a small number of times. Locked behind the Medical Bay, a safe haven away from the nonsense and petty injuries that plagued most of their kind... Even if the message had not stated from the onset that it was a relay from Ratchet, this image alone would have told him instantly as much. It was very odd, however the confusion only went higher as it became apparent it was a video of some kind. A few fast clicks with his free hand would pull the window up so it was larger and easier to discern in comparison to its previous small windowed form.

He was very much alert and attentive now.

Especially after the first few words.

The Prime was not really one who emoted much. Small actions, subtle, faded... shrouded over by an overbearing neutrality and stern overlay. He did not partake in fun, did not socialize, and did not react to situations with many visual clues as to not bring concern to others. What things did eek to the surface were mere ghosts of his true emotions. Small twitches at the corner of his mouth to form a smile or sneer, a softness or stern focus within his optics... It took one particularly observant or keen to the way he conducted himself to see beyond the stoic and assertive icon that served as the leader of the Autobots.

This situation was no different.

Stilted, silent, Optimus' expression was locked into focused neutrality. Lips slightly parted to show the dental plating behind, cyan optics latching down onto the expressions and actions that Ratchet took while he spoke... The words that sifted out into the open air were being registered, he recognized what was being spoken of and what it entailed, yet at the same time, there was almost a hollow hum that shrouded over it. Difficult to process fully, muddled as the words mutated to represent emotion rather than hard facts.

"-my inner cooling systems will shut down, energy will increase to my processor, the resistance will rise, and there will be a thermal destruction of my processor."

Each word registered, each one burning into his own processor like a hot brand with every fleeting second as it progressed. It stabbed into the side of his helm with persistent needles, a sizzling heat that twisted open and kindled active throttled portions of his psyche he always smashed and suffocated to fill the role his team needed him to fill. To be Prime, to be balanced and considerate to every angle of a threat and conflict... Not let wayward emotion force his hand into foolish mistakes that could cost the lives of others.

"Optimus....please. For Primus’ sake. If MECH somehow reactivates my frame....do the right thing. Destroy me."

The apertures around seething blue optics contracted inward, fierce pinpricks of blue latching down onto Ratchet.

"I’m gone."

No negotiation of phrase, no information following right after to give a hint to a backup drive of some kind. No... he had said thermal destruction, and now spoke of a conclusion to an agonizingly long story they have walked side by side through. Every step along the way, every base that was abandoned, every new home that was established... Every argument, every trial, every glance towards hope and what would come the next day. A grueling trudge through thick and thin to try to reverse the damage to their world, and see brilliant cities come alight once again as Neutrals, Autobots, and Decepticons alike returned... home...

"Till all are one.”

Silence.

A searing echo.

Four simple words screamed in Optimus' audiles as true stillness crushed over his living quarters, a burning hum resonating that somehow could sound so incredibly loud in the void. His gaze danced across the blackened screen, fleeting seconds feeling like an eternity while waiting for something else to come in. A secondary transmission, a declaration that the file had been sent in error. A pre-planned 'goodbye' that was thrown into activity by a rushed grab for a different video clip... With a shaky motion that felt oh so very rigid and stilted, almost as if he forgot how to use his arm, Optimus keyed in a ping to be sent to Ratchet, a demand for a Communication Relay connection.

Nothing.

A second ping.

Nothing.

Optimus' helm rose ever so slightly, gaze unblinking, expression so terribly still...

Before all hell broke loose.

A slammed clench of a fist, a shattered burst as iron glass exploded into shards only to be followed by a splatters of Energon. The cube he had been holding was obliterated in an instant, fuel slapping down onto the ground to illuminate its surface in a sea of blue speckles. The mess was not even given a second thought, the shards not looked down upon while there was no glance given to see if a chunk had wedged into a digit or joint in the process. There was no feeling to be had as engines roared active with a heavy scream, war-ready systems flaring active in a way that was typically only called upon when squaring off with Megatron.

When he knew he had to fight for his life.

The Prime lurched harshly to the side then, wrenching into a heaved stride that took him towards the door to his quarters in only a couple steps. He did not bother to wait for the stalling slab to pull aside; he did not CARE about preserving the already damaged internals that hadn't been bothered to be repaired. Squared off fingertips wrenched within the gap between metal and stone, before the panel was ripped aside with little to no resistance as if it had been nothing but a piece of cardboard.

Heavy footfalls thrummed down the hallway, fists clenched as Energon speckled down from his left hand. A snarled snap sounded out among the slamming stride, a reinforced battle mask ramming in front of the lower half of his face before locking down into their mounts. The Prime’s lens plates were still contracted, sharp dots of blue that locked ahead with ferocity. A rough movement soon followed, Optimus' free hand snapping up to press at the side of his audial, depressing the plate there as he connected with the base's relay systems.

"Red Alert! Review cameras and track Bridge logs. Find me Ratchet's location. NOW!"

Sharp words, booming and loud, ripping through the base with little preamble or warning. In a typical situation, he would have been mindful not to project in such a way, to not BLAST the base with his demand, to understand that some in the area were sensitive to sounds more so than others... most of all the one he was commanding first. Yet, he didn't care. He couldn't muster the faintest sliver of SLAG about such pleasantries at the moment, and he knew Red would drop whatever he was doing with such a command no matter how dire his neurotic mind labeled it as.

After this, other commands were barked out, a sharp edge behind his words.

"Bumblebee! Collect Carbine and Bolo. Report to the Control Room immediately!"

A scout accustomed to looking for details. A tracker that could follow a trail.

"All others on standby! Should you be called upon I will not tolerate delay!"

Focused, sharp, an inner anger that surged to the forefront as he trudged towards the Control Room with a purposeful stride, nearly upon the broad expanse before he took a hard right into the Medical Bay. Thankfully this door moved aside fast enough he did not obliterate it like he did his own Quarter’s.

It was easy to fall into such emotions of rage. Defiance at what was happening, spat hostilities lashed out to bite back at reality and challenge it head on... React in a way in an attempt to force a different result, to try to recklessly slam a fist forward or act with enough haste that things could be reversed. Set others to task with fire behind their heels to make things return to how they were...

Because absolute senseless wrath was far easier to stomach than crippling grief.

[Red Alert]

Red Alert used to joke, back when it was more hyperbole than truth, that he didn't sleep - he just waited. Waited for disaster to strike, for an alarm to sound, for the world to end. Occasionally the waiting was interrupted by brief lapses in consciousness, but those moments did not qualify as sleep so much as sporadic, involuntary shut downs that occurred when his systems finally remembered they weren't meant to run at full-power for days at a stretch.

Occasionally, despite being well aware of the futility of it all, Red Alert would try to reacquaint himself actual, legitimate sleep. It rarely ever produced any satisfactory results, but if he wanted to keep the med-team off his back he had to at least be able to say he tried – so there he was, hunched over his desk with his helm on his arms, trying. Not very hard, mind you, but that he was making an attempt at all was something to be lauded.

After about an hour of this, of trying and failing and being left alone with his thoughts (which was a fate he wouldn't wish on anyone) Red Alert was ready to call it quits. There was only so much time he could reasonably be asked to waste battling against a foregone conclusion, and he felt he had gone well above and beyond the call of duty in that regard. Ratchet, of course, would most likely disagree with him (as would his protege and virtually everyone with basic medical training) but that was of little consequence to him. All that meant was that he needed a better excuse to give up than simply knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

And by God, he did he get one.

The Prime's voice thundered in his audials like that of an angry god, startling him out of his chair and onto his feet before Optimus could even finish saying his name. He could count on a single hand how many times the Prime had used such a vehement tone in all the millennia he had known him, and that alone was enough to send a surge of alarm -and electricity- surging through him. The darkened room was bathed in a pale, flickering light as the finials atop his helm discharged the excess energy in a shower of sparks. Thankfully the Prime spoke loudly enough to be heard over the crackling right above his audials, and his message came in clear as day -

Something had happened to Ratchet.

Optimus hadn't said as much, but he didn't need to. Red Alert knew better than anyone how to pick up on context clues, how to read between the lines and discern the hidden meanings behind other people's words. Optimus asked him to find Ratchet, ergo he couldn't contact Ratchet to ask where he was, ergo something had happened to Ratchet to prevent him from answering his comm. What that something was, Red Alert didn't even want to imagine – not that that was something he could help. No, if anyone had any idea what might have happened, it was Red Alert, who had imagined every likely and unlikely scenario a thousand times over in vivid detail because torturing himself with possibilities was the closest thing he had to a hobby.

A fat lot of good it did him, seeing as the worse had apparently come to pass and all his preparation and anticipation had done fuck-all to prevent it.

His hands flew over the monitor station's control panel before he even realized he had crossed the room, his fingers flying over the keys as he ran an ID recognition program and pulled up all recordings from the past 24 hours that featured the CMO in the slightest capacity. While the program sifted through the staggering volume of cameras which filled the base and surrounded its perimeter, he pulled up the Ground Bridge's access logs, hoping with all his spark that wherever the old mech had gone, he had left a trail for them to follow.

The logs came up empty, not a single use from the CMO the entire day. Red Alert minced an oath, cursing himself for the audacity of having hope, and quickly switched tracks to the camera feeds – one by one, each of the dozens of monitors lining the wall filled with orange and white. Red Alert's optics, bright and pale with the intensity of their magnification, jumped from one to another at break-neck pace, dismissing each one in turn until he came to a perimeter shot which seemed promising. It showed the mech leaving the base, driving until he passed the furthest perimeter camera and presumably beyond. Checking the time stamp, Red Alert did a quick calculation and then opened his comm. to Optimus.

::He didnae use the bridge so he couldnae have gotten far – if I've done my maths right he shouldnae be more than eighty miles out in any direction::

Assuming of course, Ratchet drove within the speed limit for the entire duration of time between now when he was last seen – which as a variable they by no means could count on for certain – but it narrowed down their search area to something a little more manageable than 'the entire bloody State.'