( @quibble-auk This happens way way after the Dropmix trials, when the two problem gladiators have sorted themselves out. I wrote most of this in one sitting, it just kept getting longer. Maybe everybody is in character, I tried to proofread it but my brain is actually so done. So..Yeah-)
Tw. Gore, violence, pain, war, over all lots of badness.
Technically they were not supposed to be having problems with rogue Decepticons trying to encroach on the outpost.Â
Their coms said the enemy was contained.
 Yet Dropmix had to send Comet out to keep the threats neutralized.Â
The young pretender was there on technical business, on his way back to his home base after a long mission. The young mimic had stopped to check on them when he saw they were having trouble.
Dropmix had to admit, he was grateful.
Another wave of gunfire rang through the air past the horizon. It sparked and lit up the sky. When Dropmix looked up from his newest casualty, he felt his optic narrow. He and his team were never supposed to be this close to the front. Ever.Â
Their usual protection of armed bots were called up to head off the movements at the pass, the others dead. It meant they were sitting ducks drowning in casualties.
Jeopardy and the large mech worked in sync, the surgeries were not as clean as they should be, but they had no time to smooth the edges of their welds. The front was moving in fast. Dropmix couldnât give the orders for them to move until the mechs under his hands were stable, some part of him hoped that the autobot forces could push the Decepticons back and give him time. But the world never seemed to give that out freely.Â
He huffed deeply glancing up to survey the medbay, nurses and aids rushing to keep up with the influx. During the chaos the operating room now housed more than one patient at a time, Jeopardy working on his own on the other, a nurse assisting.
He trusted Jeopardy completely as the medic worked, closing up mechs with a clench to his jaw. A complete natural, not a tremble in his hands. Pride worked its way through Dropmix, Jeopardy had improved at working under pressure by miles.
âThis one is stable Dropmix,â the younger mech quickly allowed the aids to rush in and take the bot to the recovery room. â Arrow, get the next mech in here!â Dropmix added the mech to the countless frames already housed there, they couldnât take much more. Eventually it would be impossible to actually care for all the casualties if they didnât have room.
âSonar! Start putting the low risk wounded in the private rooms, keep them marked and leave the doors open!â Music still hummed in the back of his mind, keeping any sort of anger at the situation at bay. Whoever had planned this attack must have lost their minds.
âThere's only a couple left in triage! No more transports either Doc!â Arrow panted, his red plating flared with stress, the Aid covered in energon from carting the wounded.
âA couple isnât a number Arrow.â Jeopardy bit out as another mech was set in front of him. While he worked on quickly sterilizing his hands Dropmix closed up his own patient.
âHow many?â All because transports stopped landing didnât mean the wounded had stopped trying to come in. Dropmix knew the seekers were never above shooting down an Autobot flyer, armed or not. They couldnât afford to relax on this. Not yet.
âTwo, the injuries aren't high risk. The nurses can work on them-â
Jeopardyâs plating flared from across the room as his nurse explained the injuries of the mech on his table. Dropmix didnât have time to ask about them however, as the mech under his knife began to twitch.
Outside amongst the shell fire and debris Cometeater kept watch.
He had taken down two mechs that had slipped past the frontâs enforcements, which he could feel was closer than it ever should be. In quick steps he began another lap around the perimeter of the base, allowing himself to go on all fours to cover the ground quickly. He hoped he wasn't the only mech on the ground trying to guard the outpost, but it sure felt like it.
He had found two of the soldiers left that usually kept watch on the base dead on the east side. They had managed to kill the con, but bled out due to the utterly overwhelmed medical facility.
Comet elected to not mention it to Jeopardy when this was over. He knew the guilt would eat his friend alive.
The air was thick with the smell of death now, chips of bots crunching underfoot as he went. He almost missed the seeker as it came crashing out of the sky. He stopped and watched as the red and green thing exploded far out in the horizon. In cascading flames and a resounding boom that rippled through the pretenderâs skin. He shook his helm quickly moving again, intentionally breathing in the smells of the war.
Any smells that didnât belong got dissected, and trailed.
He went around the base again, padding softly and without a sound. Then the smell hit him. Wild and burning it scorched his nose.
Comet felt his whole body scream in distrust, and then in fear. Mingled with the horrible smell was fresh energon. In a flash he was running hard after the scent, hoping he could cut the source off before it broke into the base.Â
His legs burned as he tore down to the south side after the smell, how the hell had this thing gotten past him? When he had stopped to look at the seeker? Guilt and rage billowed through him. If those mechs died because he was sightseeing he could never forgive himself.
The door was wide open, the emergency locks undone to probably help with the influx of wounded, the smell heavy and making tears burn in Cometâs eyes. He didnât stop though, darting past the door. No, he had no time. Surrounding the now open door, were the bodies of medical Aids, probably trying to lock down the barrier after bringing in mechs.Â
Comet threw himself into a dead sprint down the halls, claws scraping as he desperately followed the stench of danger, he didnât even stop when he saw the damn thing.Â
In the medical wing Dropmix did another round on the living patients, checking and taking notes. The flood of wounded had stopped, for now. Leaving the staff to rush and ready themselves for another wave. Dropmix had the whole staff on their feet, moving mechs and reporting their injuries where Dropmix and Jeopardy could access them. The mech stretched his back as he glanced down at the reports. It looked as if two may have had complications in their surgeries. Oneâs breathing was ragged, but that could have been the stress from surgery. Or the amount of rust the mech had inhaled. Dropmix quickly told one of the nurses to begin a deep clean of the mechâs vents, a cursory one hadnât been enough.
Jeopardy was working with the other, whoâs internal temperature had climbed far too high during surgery. The young mech was checking the fuel line, and double checking the mixtures of needed medical grade fluids.Â
Dropmix however could not relax, an itching in the back of his processor. He hadnât heard an update from Cometeater. The organic he knew didn't have an internal com link, so accessing it took a little longer for him. But silence and delay were different, he hadnât said a word since he reported the dead mechâs outside.
Dropmix wasnât worried for the young male, he didn't allow the thought to even sit and make its case. Cometeater was supposed to com him, and he hasnât.Â
Till his internals blipped with a new message.
: Lock the outer west door of the A-12 hall:
Then he heard the screams.Â
Comet was bleeding heavily, his side busted. But he couldnât let this thing get any closer to the medical bay.
It was hardly a mech now, the Decepticons had done something to it. The horrible smell was the thingâs half rusted frame, thick lines of some chemical lodged inside its internals. Poking out of its spinal strut like a deranged fan of quills.Â
It didnât seem to feel pain, roaring in a thrash of crushing gears and gnarled engine noises.Â
They had done something to it.
Comet jumped again, digging his claws deep into the armor and letting out another warning screech, internally begging the noise to reach Dropmix and heâd know what it meant. Comet had no time to check if his message went through, hoping the medic got his warning.
The thing screamed and reared trying to get the smaller creature off its back, it twisted and tore at its own plating trying to reach him. Comet held on, his limbs shaking from the effort as the ugly misshapen bot bucked. Comet tried once more to get the damn thingâs neck, he had pried the armour off in his last attempt. Which had led to him almost getting crushed against the walls while hanging onto the creatureâs back, then lobbed down the hall.
Cometâs teeth clamped on nothing as one of those clawed hands narrowly missed him, Cometeater rearing up and away scrambling for purchase on the sunken in armor. Then the mech took advantage of his change in position, and slammed his sharp helm back onto Cometâs face.Â
Comet cried out as the edges sliced him, blood pouring down his front as he struggled to just hold on. He couldnât let go.
The thing did it again, wrenching sideways and getting Comets eye.
Agony bloomed past his exhaustion as his eye went dark with his own blood. Under him the mutated mech moved his helm back to try again. The ex gladiator grit his teeth and forced himself to take his chance. Comet unlocked his jaw and blindly went for the beastâs neck cables.
He locked his jaw and with what remaining strength he had, he ripped.Â
His cells sizzled loudly in his ears.
Comet let out an agonized wail as the mechâs energon sprayed him. But it didn't do what it usually did, it didn't just numb his mouth and coat his face. It scorched him.Â
He couldnât hold onto the horrible creature as the acidic energon worked its way into his eye, eating into his open wounds.
A horrible noise echoed around him as he hit the ground, the creature screaming as its throat only bled harder from the pure amount of fluid jetting from the wound.Â
Comet realized with a jolt however it wasnât just the dying mech who was screaming.
Cometeaterâs mouth was open wide with pain filled screeches, as the pain only grew worse as it burned through him. He shook his head violently trying to get the blood off. His own claws scraped his face as the agony only worsened, shorting out any pretense to sentience.
Something was eating him.
Burning and eating him from inside.
The loud crash of the mech hitting the ground shocked him back from the pained fog, Comet on all fours panted hard trying to think. To form thoughts as the acid ate away at him.
The moment the thought hit him he was fighting for his control again, almost drowning when the acid ate through his armor on his chest, and began to melt his flesh.
Comet focused on the footsteps, trying to breathe. Trying to not let panic swallow him. If he lost it he wouldnât survive this.
Jeopardy crouched beside him trying to look at his face past the blood and gore. Comet could smell he was afraid.Â
The smell hit a switch and suddenly any control he had began to slip through his fingers. His whole body convulsed in utter misery.
âNO- No no Jep get,â He was interrupted as another wave of burning cinched his eye.Â
The blood was eating him.
âDROPMIX!!â The scream tore from him before he could choke it down, his breathing hard and fast as that panic came back and bit down. He didnât realise how badly he was writhing, before a large blissfully cool servo shoved him down.
The deep baritone cut past the panic like a knife, Comet stole a breath while he could. He couldn't see anything on his left side as Dropmix pressed him down. Instead of panicking, Comet almost wept. Dropmix could fix this.
âJeopardy get the bases out of the lab. Now.â The mech watched him with a smooth calm expression, optics critical. Comet couldnât hold in the pained groan as the acid bit him, âI know, easy Comet.â
Cometeater forced himself to focus on Dromixâs cold icy scent, almost numbing in juxtaposition with the absolute heat burning him all over.
âThis is going to hurt like hell, focus Cometeater.â
Cometeater did as he was told, zeroing in on the cool thumb that was rubbing circles on his unhurt shoulder.
Then his face prickled with an excruciating pain akin to being burnt alive.
Comet hadnât realised he was gripping Dropmixâs arm. He focused on the hard edges and the circles that hadnât stopped, stuffing every other instinct into the furnace that was his upper left body.
âI know Comet I know, Jeopardy get his chest, hurry he won't be able to make it if he loses anymore down there.â
Inside is body every muscle clenched from stress, cramping and twitching as another hard wave of the pain crashed into him.
Focus, keep breathing. Dropmix hadnât let the organic go once.
The pain finally dulled. Slowly the burning faded, his body relaxing in twitches and sharp jumps.
He could feel his head start to roll.
â Comet you need to stay awake.â
