[272 days after Megatron's appearance]
The hospital was in complete disarray. Patients were being rushed into surgery, while others were treated in the hallways. The tension was so thick that the chaos raging outside seemed insignificant by comparison.
The overwhelming strain of the scene and seeing so many bots in such terrible condition left Orion with a bitter, helpless feeling. He wanted to help them all, but he didn't even know where to begin.
His gaze fell upon a red femme leaning weakly against the wall, her blue optics dimming as if the light was draining from them. Trusting his instincts, he rushed to her side, catching her just as she collapsed. That's when he saw it a gash across her abdomen, energon leaking slowly from the wound.
"I need a medic!" Orion called out, his voice urgent. But the shout was drowned in the noise the cries of other patients, the shouts of staff struggling to keep up. No one noticed.
"Orion! Over here!" Alpha Trion's voice rang out. The old Prime was holding up a metal couch large enough to serve as a makeshift stretcher for the wounded femme. In his other hand, he clutched a basic first aid kit.
Seeing his mentor, Orion slipped his arm around the femme's back, lifting her legs with his other hand. Gently, he carried her to the couch, laying her down with care.
"She's lost a lot of energon," Orion said, examining the wound, frustration rising as he realized no medic had come. "We need to stabilize her."
"Did you study those medical books?" Alpha Trion asked as he opened the kit, frowning at the lack of proper tools.
"Just the basics. But we have to try buy her some time!" Orion replied, grabbing a tool to cauterize the wound, hoping to slow the loss of energon enough to keep her alive. "I need you to look around find anyone in even worse shape. We have to set priorities fast."
Alpha Trion nodded. Scanning the room, his experienced eyes picked out two more bots whose conditions were far more critical than they appeared each showing signs of severe damage to their life support systems.
For hours, Orion worked like a makeshift doctor, tending to the wounded who hadn't yet received care. Together with Alpha Trion and two overworked medics, they treated those with moderate and minor injuries as best they could.
Whatever had been used in the terrorist attack, as the rumors now called it, had been powerful enough not only to kill many robots, but also to leave parts of the city's infrastructure in ruins.
As time passed and the flood of patients finally began to slow, one of the surgeons emerged from the operating room, exhaustion etched into every movement. He slumped into a chair in the cluttered hallway, letting out a weary sigh, his hands resting heavily against his head.
It was Ratchet. He had performed multiple surgeries without a single moment's rest. As the city's finest medic, the most urgent cases had fallen to him. But even with all his knowledge, there were limits to what his hands could mend.
With a serious gaze, Ratchet scanned the hallway, his optics tracing the trails of energon left behind by other victims of the explosion. He straightened and began walking toward the front of the hospital, unable to relax even for a moment, not while there was still work to be done.
To his surprise, the situation seemed to be under control at last. The chaos of incoming patients had eased, and for the first time in hours, he felt a small sense of relief. Still, he decided to do one final round, just to make sure no one had been overlooked.
With his wealth of experience, Ratchet needed little more than a glance to assess a patient's condition. His sharp, meticulous eye caught every detail, he had built his reputation on never missing what mattered most.
But his focus was broken when he spotted a massive bot towering over ten meters tall standing at the far end of the hall. Ratchet was struck by the sheer presence of the figure, but what truly left him momentarily speechless was realizing who it was.
"Lord Alpha…" Ratchet approached, not expecting to see the old Prime in a place like this. "What are you doing here, sir?"
"I'm helping my friend," Alpha Trion replied, holding a tablet that displayed the names and reports of every bot admitted to the hospital since the explosion. "It's a grim situation."
"It is," Ratchet agreed, stepping closer until he stood side by side with the legendary Prime. "I heard from the medics that there's some kind of riot outside."
"From what I've gathered, they believe the one responsible for this cowardly act is inside these walls," Alpha Trion said quietly, his voice heavy with understanding. "It seems Megatron's words earlier were the final nail in the coffin."
"Yes… most likely the High Council will have no choice now but to hear him out in person," Ratchet said, his tone tinged with bitterness.
"Is he all right?" Alpha Trion asked, more out of curiosity than concern. It hadn't been long since Orion had gone upstairs to check on his friend.
"Physically, he's fine. The enhancements to his armor from his days as a gladiator absorbed most of the blast's force. In other words, he came through it completely unscathed, despite the explosion."
Alpha Trion nodded. He hadn't known just how powerful or destructive the blast had been, but judging by the number of injured bots he'd seen, it was remarkable that Megatron had emerged unharmed, as Ratchet had described.
"Did you tend to these bots?" Ratchet asked, glancing at several patients who had been treated with what looked like makeshift medical care enough to keep them stable until proper treatment could be given.
"Orion handled most of it. He managed to keep the situation under control, at least for the moment."
"Orion? That boy did all this?" Ratchet looked around, unable to hide a spark of admiration and respect for Alpha Trion's pupil. "I'm glad to see he knew what to do under pressure. But… where is he now?"
"He went to see his best friend."