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

[Ren]

The instant that Ratchet started moving with enough force to indicate that he was no longer ‘dead’, the truck eased onto the shoulder of the highway, the rumble of gravel and rougher bumps felt as they pulled a little too far onto the edge in their slight rush to get to a stop. The green Mustang that’d been following would do the same, swerving some to avoid the thrown tarp in the process - keeping a distance of about three cars between themselves and the truck as they slowed to a halt.

They hadn’t expected him to wake up, let alone sit up and pull off the restraints. Some were thankfully still holding, it seemed, and the only hope now was that they held true while they assessed the situation.

While both vehicles had stopped, neither one turned off their ignition. One of the men in the Mustang had pulled out a cellphone, while the other reached back into the space behind the front seats - no doubt for some sort of weapon to put a stop to this.

[Ren]

Meanwhile, back at the Omega Base, Bulkhead had moved into position the moment that Optimus and the others had left. Normally the big green mech sat idly at the computer terminal, with the majority of his attention on whatever show or game Miko happened to be playing nearby. Nothing ever happened on monitor duty, which was probably why he was more than happy to do it half the time.

But today, his attention was unwavering on his task, and even Miko had realized the severity of the situation, keeping the volume on the TV to the bare minimum as not to disrupt his focus. The run down from Optimus had been brief, but morbidly to the point. Ratchet had been taken by MECH, and they needed someone to watch the monitors on the off-chance they needed a bridge for when they found Ratchet, or… for when they didn’t.

He hoped it would be the former, but it wasn’t looking good.

It felt Optimus and the others had been gone forever, and his fists curled and uncurled at his sides in some attempt to try and bleed off the anxious energy that no doubt everyone was feeling, not helped by the added pressure of keeping watch of the monitors. Even though it’d been some time, he could still hear Optimus’ almost panicked voice over the relay systems and he knew things were grim.

Any second now, they would comm him. Any second now they’d say they found Ratchet and he was okay, he was sure of it. He had to remain hopeful, they all did.

A blip. A signal. Another blip. Bulkhead immediately moved both servos to the terminal to swipe over to whatever it was that’d pinged to life. Miko scrambled to crane her neck over the back of the couch, trying to work out what was going on - but would remain quiet, nervously watching Bulkhead.

Ratchet’s signal had come online.

What was he doing all the way up there?

No time, Bulk!

Any genius idea that Carbine may have had would have to wait, as a commline would click to life to those gathered in the ravine the moment Bulkhead had triangulated a general location of where Ratchet was - helped in part by the fact the Medic didn’t seem to be moving at present. While deep down part of him was terrified of another Cliffjumper situation, this wasn’t the time for second-guessing and hesitation.

::Uhh, Optimus - Ratchet’s signal just popped up. Traveling upstate. Oregon. Well, almost. It was moving for a second there but stopped. Definitely him though.::

Well, he hoped so.

He wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was as he wasn’t quite expecting this to happen. While he knew they had to get to Ratchet, he wasn’t sure of the order of how to go about that. So he would wait for a response from Optimus before doing anything drastic like opening a bridge on top of Ratchet’s location.

[Carbine]

Work! Work you stupid fucking Processor.

I have to speak.... I have... I have to try to get Ratchet back...

The more time wasted the more time they have to rip him apart...

He is the only one that could possibly fix my head!

I squandered my chance... I avoided too long...

The surgery scares me... but I wouldn't have to be useless like this!

I won't recover now; Optimus is going to be so angry...

I am a failure; I can't even help when it is my specialty...

Why do I have to be a coward!?

Stress compounded, layering atop one another like shovels of dirt atop his grave. He logically knew he just needed to stop a moment, take in some slow ventilations and calm himself. Reset his voice a few times, try to reboot that portion of his Processor to hard force back that which he lost, but it felt impossible for him. The stress of flying, the stress of Ratchet being gone, the fear he will never get his brain fixed, the anger at his voice breaking when needed... the anxiety of Optimus being angry... the fear nobody would forgive him because his delays cost them the other mech's life who they valued so much more... there was simply too much and he couldn’t get a grapple on it, he couldn’t get a grip in any way, and he could almost feel more synapses shorting out which was yet ANOTHER strain to throw on top of the heaping mess.

"N͘-no̧! ͢k̨z̸͈̮z̖͘t̤̠̗ht̸h ́No-o̸-k̫̱t̢̼̤̞kkt-̛t-́t ̢b͟zz n-n̴͍͉̱ó̼-͘t.̸ a-a͝-͠a͡..."

It didn't matter he was trained as a cop, to be able to try to reign in emotion and remain calm no matter what was thrown at him out on the streets... none of that mattered right now when all this rammed into him like a freight train. Because of this when Red Alert and Optimus spoke to him, an annoyed staticked growl slipped out, stress and frustration as even their voices were starting to chop out and become muddled into a mess. If he was going to have any semblance of a chance, he had to remove some of the fears from the equation.

A ratcheted hatchet sound of panels, a heavy transformation... With little preamble or leadup, let alone any kind of warning or heads up, Carbine transformed with that all too familiar sound. He was rather high when this happened however, still fearing hitting one of the trees with his rotors, but he had to bite the bullet. What was more dangerous...? A drop? Or clipping something and going out of control?

He chose the drop.

A heavy slam rang out as Carbine's peds landed into the river, water spraying up from the impact as well as rock being displaced to leave trenches in the surface. The strike was hard, yet was done so with knees slightly bent to try to absorb the impact as best as possible. This strike caused his legs to buckle fully, dipping down hard as his right knee tore into the riverbed as a gritted crackle snorted out from the pain. While nothing appeared or felt broken, no mangled internal struts, his front shin armor was scratched up and dented in intermittent points despite the heavier plating. That was what armor was for though... trying to take such hits and attempt to shrug it off. With a snort Carbine started to stand, right leg kicking out a moment to shake off the internal pain before planting solidly down with another cut of water.

Carbine was about to try to speak, hands lifting to mime and help, looking at Red Alert directly, only things shifted gears - - -

[Optimus Prime]

They didn't have time for this...

Optimus waited, pulling out from his well of patience, scraping at the bottom of its reaches, clawing and raking to keep himself together while time flickered past. Moment by moment MECH would take Ratchet further away, moment by moment they had more time to rip him apart. If too long had passed, there would be nothing to recover, and it would be another Cleaver or... the other tragic scenerio he didn't want to dwell over. Optimus didn't know what would be better. A ripped apart frame that was done, out of commission, free from any pain, or a processor 'dead' frame that could possibly have a chance of recovery should something be figured out. Though the latter could be a hopeless wish to gift false hope and cause longer term anguish without proper grief.

The Prime didn't have terribly long to think on such things, before there was a sound of transformation and a ram of rock and water. His frame turned to the side some as the heaved splash flung out, eyes narrowing a bit in case some flicked up high, before staring down upon Carbine, wondering just what he thought he was doing. Just as before however, he didn't have much time to process this, seeing the black and white mech starting to stand before a comm cut through.

::Uhh, Optimus - Ratchet’s signal just popped up. Traveling upstate. Oregon. Well, almost. It was moving for a second there but stopped. Definitely him though.::

Cyan optics widened some at this, a mix of disbelief and confusion. They had certainly traveled far in what felt like such a short amount of time, yet that did not matter in any way whatsoever. They did not have to drive, the Bridge gifting them opportunity to cut corners and get to where the halted signal was. Whether or not the signal was that of the MECH Facility or not also did not matter, for he would be going through the bridge with gun drawn and at the ready.

::Open the Ground Bridge. Prepare coordinates for Ratchet's location upon arrival::

Stern words, focused and abrupt. Optimus knew he didn't need to concern himself with Carbine understanding such terms, for if the other mech couldn't figure out he needed to follow them through the vortex? They could just pick him up later as far as Optimus was concerned in the moment. He wasn't going to play games, and while he did indeed understand it wasn't the other Cybertronian's fault, the irritation was still there.

As the Bridge burst into formation to lead them all back to Omega so they could branch from there to where Ratchet was, Optimus would turn sharply and begin to stride through with a heavy long gaited action.

Once he would get to the other side he would wait for the others, ready to move out to the next location with notable haste.

[Red Alert]

Red Alert hadn't expected Carbine to suddenly drop out of the sky, but in hindsight, he probably should have. If the mech was already too far gone to communicate with words, then gesture was his only other option. Still, it came as something of a surprise, just how quickly and clumsily Carbine came down to meet them in the ravine - the whole maneuver was rushed, sloppy. Carbine even injured himself (and a chunk of foliage) in the process, which was the last thing any of them needed. Thankfully, Carbine didn't seem to be slowed by his injuries whatsoever; he moved with a frantic sort of energy, walking off his various dents and scrapes with a sort of manic determination that was somehow both laughable and admirable.

Before the ex-officer could get a single word (gesture?) in, however, Red Alert's attention was violently wrenched away by a familiar voice suddenly booming in his audial.

Red Alert straightened, his pale optics glowing so bright as to turn near-white. This was it - the news they had been waiting for. The miracle they had desperately needed to turn their odds from slim to something actually bordering on hopeful.

Without a word, without even needing to think, he turned to clasp a hand over Carbine's forearm, intent on dragging the other mech along like a shepherd with a crook since he had no time to explain, and Carbine lacked the capacity to understand anyway. If the other mech couldn't understand what had been spoken over the comm.line, then there was no reason he would understand someone speaking to him in person.

Hopefully the tell-tale crackling in the air, followed by the spontaneous appearance of a ground bridge, would be all the explanation Carbine needed.

[Ratchet]

Ratchet had no idea what was going on.

He had no idea who he was.

He had no idea who anyone around him was.

He didn’t even know where he was.

All he could discern, was that he had been bound.

Images, thoughts, feelings, flashed through his damaged processor. Being attacked. Running or falling into a ravine. Being angry. Upset. Frightened. Sad.

Something enveloping him.

Pain.

Falling into blackness.

Ratchet’s fight or flight response suddenly kicked into high gear, and it settled on one of the two.

Flight.

Finally tearing the last restraints loose, he heaved himself off the flatbed of the truck, staggering to his feet. Inner guidance systems faltered and fought to keep him upright, his neural net finding new pathways around damaged areas. As a result, he lurched like a drunken sailor for a moment, turning in place, trying to make sense of all the information his processor was trying to force on him. Sounds, sights, sensations. None of it was making any sense to him, all of it was demanding his attention.

Like a newly forged Cybertronian, Ratchet’s processor was taking in everything for the first time. However, unlike a newly forged Cybertronian, Ratchet wasn’t being given a gentle awakening, a soft introduction of awareness, an allowance for digestion of senses. Everything was striking him at the same time, and the utter fear that spiked through him was nearly blinding.

Around him were the smaller things that had hurt him. Smaller than he was – but yet capable of so much pain and hurt.

Ratchet staggered back a few steps, and then turning, bolted.

He ran poorly, lurching for several steps, staggering, attempting to keep his balance. Something told him if he fell, he might not get back up again, and that alone kept him going.

Heavy footfalls pounded on the ground for a few steps, before his world suddenly shifted again.

He seemed to fold in on himself. It was almost second nature, and once it had happened, a whole new set of systems came into place. Now wheels were rolling. He was tucked in neatly, tightly, and yet it felt more secure somehow.

Safer.

Likewise, it was second nature for the lights atop his new form to come on, and the sirens to start wailing. A part of him needed to hide, and oddly enough, the lights, the sounds...they all felt like hiding.

Blending in.

Not really understanding much of what was going on, just filled with a strong desire to flee, the Ford 2011 Ambulance rocketed forward, slipping into the sparse traffic ahead on the road.

[Ren]

As Ratchet heaved off the final restraints, the passenger in the Mustang quickly scrambled to open the door, a weapon hoisted onto his shoulder as he trained it onto the Cybertronian. It was of similar make to the AT-4 first used on the ambulance back at the scenic point- yet it was not fired.

Ratchet was stumbling, making it hard to get a clear shot - the last thing they needed or wanted was for this crucial hit to miss. That area had been deserted. This was a highway, and while civilian traffic was at an absolute minimum, it wasn’t worth the risk.

A growl of frustration left the man as he quickly got back into the car, watching as Ratchet shifted back into his vehicle mode and began to drive.

The truck would begin to pursue, followed quickly by the Mustang who would ease ahead of the flatbed swiftly, keeping Ratchet in their sights. While this was unfortunate, it wasn’t like the ambulance could really go anywhere, and backup was on the way to keep an aerial view on the offchance they lost him.

They’d have to move quickly, without the signal jammer it was only a matter of time before the lone Cybertronian no doubt called for help.

[Ren]

The instant the order was given by Optimus, the Ground Bridge swirled to life before the group. It illuminated the general area, wisps of green and yellow spiraling within the vortex as the air crackled around it.

Ratchet had begun to move again, and Bulkhead was starting to panic. Keeping one optic on the monitor that showed Ratchet’s signal, while one servo frantically adjusted the coordinates. He couldn’t risk bridging everyone onto a highway- they were supposed to be robots in disguise and should he place it wrong, or in front of some humans? That’d be all kinds of trouble from Fowler!

But this was Ratchet and time was of the essence.

Thankfully, it seemed that Optimus, Red Alert, Bumblebee and Carbine were ready to move, and within seconds of the bridge opening they had made their way through - even if it seemed Carbine was being… uh, dragged. Typing quickly with clunky fingers, the vortex would slam closed, only to reopen a second later.

“I got this as close as I could, you’ll be ‘bout a mile or two out from him on a small service road, but it’s the safest spot, I uh- I hope. He’s traveling north, and fast.”

What was terrifying about that was he couldn’t tell if it was MECH taking him somewhere, or if he was running. He hoped it was the latter, then all they’d have to do would be get to him first, and bring him home.

While he was uncertain if the service road was the right way to go about this, it was far better than bridging them directly onto the highway itself. There was still the risk of being spotted, but less so.

((Skip Bee again this turn, just assume he moved into Omega with the others, and will follow Optimus thru the next bridge. Will post on him next round!))

[Carbine]

Carbine was shutting down. He couldn't get a reel on his emotions; he couldn’t get any semblance of a grasp. All his experience trying to stay level headed in crisis, all his knowledge that panic solves nothing, it didn't really do anything once one fell so very far. He looked Red Alert in the eyes, his own rounded and fearful, stress and panic trying to be conveyed with no way to express it more. A chattered growl shifted through his voice, the top of the optical projections pinching down as if furrowing brows.

With a swinging movement Carbine pointed up in the direction that he had been flying, though continued to look at the other mech, a chopped couple phrases popped out that weren't even recognizable as words in any way whatsoever now, things degrading even further. He was about to gesture more, however his comm erupted active, and he reacted sharply to it.

While others may flinch in surprise to the sudden call from Bulkhead, or like Red Alert a bit more on the edge of alarm, Carbine's frame dipped and shoulders hiked up sharply as if he had heard a gunshot and somehow thought he could dodge a bullet that was already in progress. His helm whipped around, looking and darting before his processor caught up to him that hey... those were words following, not repeating bangs from a gun. That didn't mean he wasn't even more on edge however, rotors crooked up and splayed out to either side, bobbing and twitching a bit as he got his bearing again.

For as long as he was able to.

Next thing he knew, Carbine's lower arm was grabbed and he was being pulled in the direction of a Ground Bridge opening.

No... no they are giving up! I can try to track! I can do this! I know how to help! I just need to speak... I... I need to speak! I want to find him too! Please!

Carbine pulled back a moment, a spat of static protesting, a cried word. Yet, as soon as he tried to fight, he seemed to give up, a crushing wave blasting over him that he was useless and he couldn't do anything to help. With a lurched wobble, Carbine let himself get pulled into the bridge, his rotors pinning back sharply in uncomfortable dejection, now with added insult as well as fear as his back was unguarded. Once into the Control Room, the black and white mech pulled away, moving across the room to put distance while Bolo warily plodded behind him.

The canine licked at his nose warily, ears pulled back and helm slung low. He looked back at the others, before then up at Master, not sure what had happened. He didn't really hang around however, front paws swinging up to clap over the posts on the back of Carbine's hips, before he heaved and jumped with a pull, frame transforming and merging with his Carrier smoothly.

Leave me alone. I am fine. I'll make my way back down. I won't cause trouble...

[Optimus Prime]

Once through the bridge, Optimus pointed over at the others.

"Red Alert, see to Carbine."

While the Security Director had speed in his alt, and a scent hound capability to track Ratchet, he had never confronted MECH before like he and Bumblebee had. There was also the fact that MECH's technology had gotten to such a point they had taken down Ratchet hard enough for him to... self-destruct... and Omega could not lose two large key pieces of the base's stability. One could easily argue of Optimus' own value, yet that was not something he considered, and he would not have humored it anyway.

He would not send his soldiers on a mission he would be too wary to attend himself.

Without wasting a beat, Optimus' frame reeled around as the Ground Bridge opened again, leg pulling with a scrape against the ground at a slightly different angle, frame crooking, a knee bent, a heave of engines roaring active...

A full sprint.

While before Optimus had been at a jog, trying to move fast while scanning for indentations in the riverbank or other clues that could tell where Ratchet had gone, this time there was no need to look and take heed. Now, it was a cut and dry mission. They knew WHERE he was. They were being Bridged right THERE. It meant they needn't fumble around looking for clues as they seemed to slip between their fingers like sand. Because of this, Optimus' systems snarled active with a roar, and he heaved forward towards the newly opened portal.

Momentum. Thundering footfalls. Each impact hit hard, the ground trembling slightly from his mass striking, before being followed with the next slam in a harsh rhythm. Concrete flooring bled way to energy particles, the curling vortex then bleeding away to asphalt... Optimus cleared this in fleeting seconds, his frame canted forward into the heavy run, gaze narrowing with determination and anger at his heels.

The second the white and teal particles pulled back enough so that he could actually see what was around him, Cyan optics flicked in a sharp scan to get the most basic of bearings before he exploited all of the momentum he had gathered down the hall of the Bridge. A heaving crash of systems being thrown into motion, an all to recognizable sound of transformation... it only took a brief moment before wheels rammed into the ground, followed by a crunching growl as the rest of the semi trick's frame snapped into position. With no prompting the wheels would pick up where his legs left off, speed not even faltering for a moment.

Assuming Bumblebee would be following, more likely than not able to pass him with more maneuverability and speed, Optimus' pulled out from the separated service road onto the on-ramp of the sparsely populated freeway. Should this be any other event, he would lay low, play passive. Humans were reckless enough creatures on freeways that it was better to just stay in a slower lane and let them get on with their lives unobstructed by a larger vehicle. This day however, there was no room for such pleasantries. There was no kindness to be offered other than not being directly hostile or dangerous to the other drivers.

The brightly colored truck pulled out into the faster lanes, surging north as directed while looking for any sign of Ratchet's altmode or any MECH cars.

[Ratchet]

The ambulance continued streaking past. There weren’t a lot of vehicles on the road, but the few that were, instinctively pulled to the shoulders of the road in order to give the wailing, flashing vehicle room to pass. Everyone watched the ambulance blast past, and offered up a silent prayer or well wishes for whatever poor soul was within, being carried to a place that offered hope and salvation, before pulling back on and continuing on with their unaware lives.

Ratchet still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. He had been running, and then had somehow folded himself into this shape. He was surrounded by sound and noise and lights. Yet while such things should frighten him, they didn’t. Even though he was somehow folded down into himself, he could still see, just...in a different way. He could still hear, he was still aware of what was going on around him, but in a different way than before.

And he was much, much faster.

The vehicles continued to chase after him. He was aware of them, a nice little distance back behind him, but following. He had to try and lose them, somehow. To find a safe place, and hide. Try to understand everything that had happened.

He needed to be quiet.

The lights and siren instantly faded, although the ambulance was by no means hard to miss. Still, without the wailing sounds and flashing lights, it was a little easier to try and blend in with the other cars around him.

He still didn’t feel safe. The vehicles he was passing had those same beings inside as the ones that had hurt him, and he would shy away from them if he faltered too close.

Desperate, when a side road appeared to the far left, ramping down to cross beneath the bridge he was now travelling over, he made for it.

Crossing two other lanes, causing two of the vehicles he had passed to swerve suddenly to avoid hitting him, Ratchet slid into the ramp lane, curving down around, moving away from the main road.

Down here, he might find a place to hide.

[Ren]

While the flashing lights and sirens meant that their target could move swiftly and unhindered, with those few other vehicles on the road moving the instant they realized an emergency vehicle needed to pass? It also meant that MECH could take full advantage, speeding up and attempting to close the gap between themselves and the ambulance.

He was making it all too easy, what with the flashing lights- only, after a few hundred meters it seemed he had become wise to the fact he was a glaring beacon, and both the lights and siren shut off.

But they were still watching.

And most importantly? Still following.

As Ratchet cut across the two lanes, they would swerve, cutting across and following, trying to keep him within their sight. They just had to keep their eye on him a moment longer until support arrived.

So far, so good.

They sped down the ramp, following Ratchet.

[Bumblebee]

Bumblebee charged through the ground bridge with the others, skidding to a stop in the Control Room. His gaze instantly shifting to the monitor, trying to work out ahead of time just where they were going, or at least which direction they had to travel to get to Ratchet.

Luckily, Bulkhead was on it- and Bee would nod at his words as the coordinates for the second bridge were inputted quickly.

There was a flicker of hesitation at hearing that Carbine would be taken back to the brig. But given his current state? It was no wonder. A small part of him wanted to be the one to stay behind with the helicopter mech, to make sure that he was okay- given he… he knew more than the others, and understood exactly what’d happened.

But there was no time. He was fast, he was a Scout, and they needed him to get Ratchet.

An almost sorrowful look was shot in Carbine’s direction before the whir of the second bridge was heard opening, and his attention would snap back into seriousness as he followed Optimus, sprinting through the swirling vortex without a second thought.

Just as the Prime did a split second earlier, Bumblebee would shift into his vehicular mode while in motion. A flurry of twisting parts as he ran, the bridge closing behind the pair as he pulled forwards quickly the second all four tires were on the ground.

He was far faster than Optimus, and would veer around the semi-truck with ease. While he knew he had to be careful because MECH were out here somewhere - the sooner they found Ratchet? The better.

Their comms would click to life moments after the bridge had swirled to a close, Bulkhead’s voice coming through loud and clear.

::He’s moving fast, still heading north. I can’t get an exact pinpoint on his signal, but he’s still a few miles ahead of you guys. Be careful. I’ll uh, I’ll try to give updates when I can. Let me know if you need backup, or a bridge. We’re rootin’ for you!:: some small words of encouragement in a horrible, horrible situation.

Hearing this only seemed to spur Bumblebee on, and he would increase his speed - pulling ahead from Optimus and onto the freeway. While he wasn’t going at ridiculously fast speeds, there were definitely some rules being broken here as he made an attempt to close the distance between himself and wherever Ratchet had gone.

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus could only drive at this point, watching as Bumblebee's altmode vanished down the freeway amongst the sparse traffic, becoming nothing but a smear of color in the distance. There was some frustration at this, irritation, the yellow muscle car having far more speed and maneuverability than he ever could. He wanted to keep pace, to be there in order to help, and while he was physically capable of going faster, it wasn't something he could do on this stretch of road. Not with the civilians around blocking his progression, and not without cutting others off which was far too dangerous. He had to simply drive down the freeway at pace, casting his vision out to the horizon line to attempt to pick up on yellow, red tinged orange and white, or even just a flash of that green MECH seemed to favor.

A few miles felt like a lifetime away in a sense, yet, knowing that Ratchet’s signal was this close to human populations had its own boons and comfort. MECH was reclusive, they vanished just as readily as they appeared, and given past events they were more likely than not stationed in hidden remote reaches out of the eye of the general public. Unless they embraced this assumption tenfold and truly dug their heels into the middle of a city to hide in plain sight... this meant Bumblebee and himself were on their heels, potentially cutting in before the medic could be pulled apart.

This thought alone seemed to quell some stressed energy, starting to make him try to gain a better footing and think more openly on what plan was next. While Optimus physically could do nothing, ignorant to the fact Ratchet had taken an exit and hooked down and around off the marked trail, he could try to reach out even though it hadn't worked previously, just to try SOMETHING.

Attempting to open a comm directly to Ratchet, Optimus spoke.

::Ratchet. Can you hear me?::

[Ratchet]

Ratchet was still barrelling down the access ramp, going faster than the ramp speed limit, but easily able to stick to the road. As he moved, he kept scanning around him, looking for something, anything, to use as a shelter, a place to hide.

Luckily there were only a few cars travelling along this road, spread out quite far from each other, so the speeding vehicle was easily able to slide into the lane without any fuss.

He was still searching for a place to disappear, to vanish, when suddenly there was a voice, inside his head.

The voice was unknown, the words not making much sense. The tone was deep, a rich baritone that was both mellow and yet authoritarian at the same time.

Regardless, it caused the ambulance to wobble in the lane it was travelling in, as Ratchet was startled.

He did not reply – he didn’t really know yet how to reply.

The entire time since Ratchet had woken up, his damaged processor was struggling to reconnect circuits and work as intended. Whereas a “normal” Cybertronian Awakening took a little time, allowing the newly created’s processor time to learn language, both written and spoken, time to learn to speak in return, the meaning and sound of words....Ratchet was doing the same on the run. His processor was both trying to make sense of what was going on around him, and make all the connections that was normal.

As a result, it was taking time.

Still moving along the lane, only a single car far ahead, Ratchet’s processor took the spoken words it had just heard and replayed them again and again, over and over, in much the same way a person hearing a new song for the first time will remember the lyrics, putting them in order, finding sense to them.

It had clearly been a question. There had been that rising inflection on the end. So whatever, or whoever, it was...it was asking something of him.

Hear.

Hear?

Could he hear?

Well, obviously he could hear, but...who was asking? Why wouldn’t he hear? And more importantly, why was he being chased by those creatures that wanted to hurt him?

There was an attempt to reply. To answer.

The only thing Ratchet managed to do at the moment was make a strange, half garbled sqwak-half electronic squeal noise that would have deafened any humans with it’s extreme pitch had they been near enough. But the noise had been external, and not across any coms.

However, unknowingly, Ratchet did manage, for a split second, to activate his com on the general Autobot frequency. Similar to someone “keying the mic”, there was a brief opening of a channel, and then closing. A frequency hiccup.

Ratchet continued on, keeping the car ahead of him in sight, but at a safe distance.