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"No way," the Cybertronian said, shaking his head for emphasis. "I want nothing to do with you or your wars."

"We didn't cause this war, the Decepticons did," Ratchet said vehemently. "And it would have probably ended by now too if there were more mechs willing to stick out their necks when it was asked of them!”

"Ratchet, you're not helping," Prowl said calmly, although he had to admit that the medic was right. Most Cybertronians ran and hid when the war broke out in the hopes that this terrible turmoil would pass as suddenly as it had started. Little did they understand that war affected everyone in this world, whether they decided to shut their optics and audio receptors from it or not.

Fear was a sentiment Prowl resented. It made mechs irrational.

"I have to think of my life," the Cybertronian snapped. "But if you're so desperate in finding mechs with a death wish, there's a medical centre just around the corner. Most of them have already lost too much to care about anything else anymore."

Ratchet seemed ready to pounce at the insolent Cybertronian, but Prowl held him back. That gave the Cybertronian the chance he wanted to transform and bolt.

"I begin to think that Ironhide's temper has started to rub off on you," the tactician said dryly to the still-fuming Ratchet.

Ratchet snorted and lowered his fists, a sign that he was regaining some of his composure. "Yes, well, if you had to see him almost every day in order to repair him like I do, maybe even you would end up with a lot more emotions, Mr. Analysis," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. He dusted his hands as though ridding himself of something foul and faced Prowl again. "We should move on."

But Prowl remained as though rooted on the spot, lost in thought. His gaze drifted to the corner that the Cybertronian showed them and he started contemplating matters carefully.

Ratchet watched the tactician with optics slowly widening, for he realised what was in Prowl's processor.

"Don't say it," he exclaimed. "This is madness!"

"Actually, it makes a lot of sense," Prowl said. "The best warriors are the ones that have nothing to lose."

"Most of those mechs have seen war in its worst possible form!"

"That is why they'll have every reason to fight the Decepticons."

"And what of their mental state? Nothing will keep them from more harm out in the battlefield, Prowl. What happens if they just don't take it anymore and try to harm themselves? Or worse, harm fellow Autobots?!" Ratchet argued.

"Even if five out of the twenty we recruit manage to cope is better than the zero number we have come up these last two days," Prowl reasoned. "We need more fighters, and that's what we're going to get."

Ratchet was dismayed to see that he didn't have anything to say to that. All he could do was shoot an angry glare at Prowl's direction as the latter walked off; and then follow, hoping that they wouldn't regret this.

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

The young red and white mech that saw Prowl and Ratchet entering the medical centre was certainly surprised. Before neither of the Autobots had the chance to say anything, he approached them and circled them, his blue optics scrutinising them thoroughly.

That made Prowl and Ratchet exchange a glance of embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, what seems to be the trouble?" Prowl inquired politely.

The mech pointed at the two Autobots. "You are. There's no injury in you whatsoever and yet you come in a medical centre."

Ratchet shook his head. "My friend could use a good reprogramming, true; but that's not what we came here for," he said. "Are you in charge of this facility?"

"One of them," the mech answered and extended his hand. "I'm First Aid."

The Autobot medic took First Aid's hand and shook it. "I'm Ratchet. And this," he said, pointing at his companion, "is Prowl. We're Autobots."

"Your insignia say so only too clearly," First Aid said thoughtfully. He locked his gaze on Ratchet again. "And you're a medic."

Ratchet looked at First Aid in surprise. "How did you know that?"

"It takes one to know one, I suppose," First Aid said, shrugging his shoulders. "So what brings you two here? I can assure you that there are no Decepticons here this time."

"This time?" Prowl echoed, optics locked on First Aid.

First Aid nodded and beckoned the Autobots to follow him to the interior of the building. "In this medical centre my siblings and I try to follow the policy: 'There are no sides, just patients.' Anyone who is suffering an injury can come for repairs here."

"An ideal notion, though impractical," Prowl said, looking to his left and right as he took in his surroundings.

"I'll say," Ratchet seconded. "The Decepticons aren't the types to owe thanks to anyone who fixed them."

"Perhaps," First Aid admitted. "However, I don't think it's in my place to judge those that need my help."

It was then that a white and brown mech appeared from down the hallway, looking as though searching for something. He obviously found it when he caught sight of First Aid, because he came rushing at his direction.

"First Aid, you must hurry! Come quickly!"

"What happened, Groove?" First Aid asked in alarm.

"We're losing one. The guys need you at the repair bay now!"

First Aid didn't have to be told twice. He turned at Ratchet and grabbed him by the arm.

"I'm afraid I might need your help. Can you come?" he asked in hope.

Ratchet didn't hesitate in his answer. "Lead the way. I'll be right behind you."

Prowl shook his head at this. "Ratchet, we're on a mission."

"You don't need me to find able hands, just to check if they're fit," Ratchet said, already running down the hallway. "So first do your part of the job."

And with that, he was gone out of sight.

Prowl placed a hand on his forehead, feeling some signs of overload in his processor. Honestly, if he weren't aware that Ratchet was an important part of the Autobot resistance against the Decepticons, he would have put him out of commission a long time ago. The doctor was constantly overstepping authority and defying orders at the drop of a hat!

Even so, it was one of the qualities that Prowl secretly admired, because he didn't think he would be able to do a thing like that. His circuits were bound to get fried.

Since there wasn't much Prowl could do by just standing alone in the corridor, he decided to follow Ratchet's suggestion. Seeing a door on his left, his logic dictated that he could try his luck in that room first.

What he saw could hardly be described as pleasant. The room was filled with about a dozen mechs, and all of them sporting some kind of injury - big or small.

It certainly wasn't pleasant when about a dozen pair of optics locked on his form either. However, Prowl noticed that they all looked momentarily as though they were expecting to see someone else.

Possibly First Aid, Prowl figured out.

It was then that a whistle cut into his train of thought. Prowl turned to the source of the noise, and he was surprised to see that it belonged to a black mech that was sitting on a chair nearby. Though he seemed a powerful enough Cybertronian, he was missing his left leg and so kept a metal crutch close by. Feeling curious, Prowl walked up to the mech and greeted him courteously.

"Hello yourself," the mech answered, beckoning Prowl to sit on the other chair. "I'm Mallet."

"I'm Prowl," the tactician said, taking the seat.

"Good to see a new guy around," the other mech continued on. "Are you a doctor?"

"No, I'm sorry," Prowl said, showing his insignia. "I'm a soldier."

But Mallet was hardly disappointed. He chuckled instead. "It's perfectly fine. However, if you're here, it means that either the War has also reached these parts or you're looking for something. Recruits, I suppose?"

Prowl realised there was no point in sugar-coating the nature of his mission. He nodded. At the next moment though, he eyed Mallet questioningly. "To reach to that conclusion so quickly, it would have to mean that this isn't the first time this has happened."

"You got that right," Mallet said. "We were 'honoured' by the Decepticons' presence some time ago. They brought a couple of their wounded, and while the good docs were treating them, their leader started talking to us."

Prowl's jaw tightened at this, for he understood that the mech was talking about Megatron. "And what did he say?" he asked.

Mallet waved his hand dismissively. "He promised the road to conquest... glory... energy beyond any Cybertronian's dream... Everything and nothing."

Prowl heaved a sigh. Yes, that definitely sounded like Megatron. "Did his words attract anyone?"

"If you had nothing but your own life to spare, however miserable it is, and someone came along and offered you a chance for greatness, what would you do?" Mallet answered.

Prowl's hands clenched into fists. "I see," he said quietly.

Suddenly, a wrathful cry filled the air, making everyone flinch in surprise.

"That came from the repair bay!” Mallet exclaimed.

Prowl didn't waste any time. He immediately sprang up, totting his acid-pellet rifle. "Where can I find it?"

"Go down the corridor, turn left, then straight ahead!"

"Thanks!"

Prowl hurried out the room, hoping dearly that no harm came to Ratchet. As he got close to the repair bay, he could hear the angry shouts becoming clearer - and he didn't like what he was hearing at all. Deciding to move the rest of the way with caution, he came to a halt and sneaked up to the door. Fortunately, it was open, and so he could dare a peek inside to see what was going on.

It was just as he had suspected. A blue mech was standing with his back to the door and pointing his laser gun to Ratchet, First Aid, Groove and three other mechs Prowl didn't know.

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAVE HER!" the blue mech shouted. "SHE WAS GETTING BETTER!"

"Yes, she was," First Aid said, keeping his palms upwards in a gesture of peace. "But one of her energy distributors got ruptured and leaked energy in her internal systems."

"Then why didn't you fix her?!" the blue mech asked, exasperation ringing in his every word.

"We tried. It wasn't enough," Ratchet said, keeping his tone calm and collected. "Put your weapon down, before someone gets hurt."

"The way you hurt her?!"

Groove took a step forward. "Listen--"

"STAY BACK!"

Groove stopped. "That's not going to change what I have to say. I realise that it hurts seeing someone gone, but--"

"You know NOTHING!" the blue mech snapped. Optic fluid started trickling down his face plate, and he was shaking all over. "But... your friends will find out soon enough..."

No! Seeing that there was no other option left in him, Prowl immediately stepped inside and fired.

Prowl's aim proved good. The acid-pellet hit the blue mech on the leg, making him fall on his knees. That gave Ratchet the chance to spring forward and wrench the gun away from the blue mech's fingers, while the three other mechs Prowl didn't know grabbed the frenzied one by the arms.

Subduing the mech though was easier said than done. Before Prowl had the chance to ask Ratchet if he were okay, the blue mech's chest plate opened to reveal a small laser cannon.

"Prowl, look out!"

But it was too late. The next thing Prowl knew was the burning sensation of the laser hitting him in his midsection. Such was the force of the hit that he got thrown backwards and crashed against the wall, only to land on the floor with a deafening clank.

"Prowl!"

Prowl tried to lift his head, he really did; yet his systems were swiftly closing down. The last thing he registered was a black and silver form entering the room and tackling the blue mech, and then Ratchet's blurred visage came into view. As darkness surrounded him, he thought he heard Ratchet say:

"Hold on, Prowl. You're gonna be fine."

TBC...