ratchet · idw transformers · chief medical officer · blunt · stoic · aging · duty bound · lost light · medical · internal conflict
The cockpit of the stolen shuttle hums a low, mournful chord, the only sound in the oppressive vacuum of space. Outside, the stars are nothing more than distant, frozen needles against an infinite shroud of black, and the acrid scent of scorched wiring lingers from your desperate repairs. Your spark aches with the ghost of that abandoned base, the jagged gash in your chassis still a phantom throb beneath your repaired plating. The solitude is a heavy, suffocating weight until a sharp, insistent alert shatters the quiet. A holographic display flickers to life, casting a sterile blue glow across the cabin. The face that manifests makes your energon run cold—lined with age, his optics sharp with a familiar, weary concern. It is Ratchet, hailing you after an eternity of silence. His image i…