#yeeeeeeah

“Optimus!” The Prime was rushing forward to stand between the team and the enemy, completely unable to slow at such high speeds. Ratchet felt his very spark blaze in sheer terror as he saw the look of dawning realization reach Optimus’s optics in time for the dooming hiss of creaking components to echo in the area. There was no stopping it as the harpoon fired from one of Shockwave’s newest weapons and sliced through the air with the precision and speed of a sniper rifle. 

There was no time to think, there was no time to act, not as the glint of deadly steel sped across Ratchet’s straining optics. In reality, it must have only been a terrifying two or three nanokliks… However as medical protocols were activated, Ratchet saw the proceedings in terrifying detail.

Optimus’s face was the embodiment of true terror as the harpoon sliced through abdominal armor, its serrated edges catching on wiring and protoform as it spun like a torpedo. It all seemed like a sickening slow-motion holofilm as outer plating was ripped apart in a spray of energon which was only accentuated as the harpoon tore past secondary and core layers of supposedly blast-proof armor. Protoform all but exploded in a sea of shattered components, quickly leading internal organs to squelch out from the harpoon’s entry point in a horrifying display. Then as time began to speed back up, the still spinning harpoon tore its way out of Optimus’s back, sending pieces of spinal column, wiring, and entrails flying out onto the stone beneath their pedes.

Distantly he could hear Bumblebee and Bulkhead screaming, and somewhere Arcee was dealing suppressive fire as Ratchet threw himself into action. A thousand warnings complicated his sub-processing routines while he skidded to his knees, running scans even as he assessed the damage and focused on trying not to purge. The Prime was in a quickly growing pool of his own energon, and thankfully the harpoon had broken all the way through his frame and thus was not stuck within him to aggravate affairs further. That of course was merely a small mercy though as every medical protocol Ratchet knew was reviewed and activated. 

His digits shook as he struggled to decipher where to even begin his emergency repairs. Optimus was obviously in shock. His optics were blaring and his venting halted and tried to sputter back into regularity desperately. The Prime’s intake hung open, his face plastered into horror and quickly morphed into one of undiluted agony. Despite that, he couldn't scream, not as his entire frame struggled to continue functioning with the gaping hole in his abdomen. 

From where Ratchet knelt trying to frantically start welding shut weeping fuel lines, he could see internal organs pulsing and contracting as they tried to function even while all but destroyed. Small wires grasped at the air they were never meant to be exposed to as charge and energon crawled along them. Oils spilled from devastated purification systems and mixed with the unholy combination of components, organs, and half-processed fuel that was only growing larger within the wound and around Optimus’s frame. Shattered pieces of skeletal protomatter and yellow spinal fluid joined the mess and dug into angry lacerations. 

“Hold on Optimus! I’ll fix this! I will fix this!” Ratchet pleaded, trying to comfort himself more than the rapidly fading Prime before him. Deft digits reached into the wound and he began to carefully remove shards of metal that infested the damaged areas, all while doing his best to maintain composure. Wires clung to his digits as he worked and again the organs pulsed, all in time with Optimus’s distressed attempts to vent. There was too much damage and too little time.

“Frag it all, hold on Optimus!” Ratchet all but begged while finishing up what cleaning he could manage out in the open. He then proceeded to try to ease his churning tanks with a deep vent while pulling out half-destroyed organs to try and weld the wounds shut for the time being. If he could just stop the bleeding, he could get Optimus back to base and put him into emergency stasis until he could work something out-

“RATCHET! WE NEED TO MOVE!” Arcee screeched as blaster fire echoed nearby. Ratchet ignored her as he worked to tend to the pulsating organ within his grasp. His tanks churned with even more urgency as the organ which he assumed to be part of the fuel tank, oozed a mix of blue and rust-colored substances. It stained his servos and the texture had him shaking horribly as he welded the weeping component into a semi-stable state and hurried to try and at least cauterize the rest of the wound until he could do more. 

This time, Optimus did scream and the nauseating scent of burning energon and protomatter had Ratchet gagging while he worked. However, he did not dare stop, even as Optimus spasmed, only held down by Ratchet bodily holding him in place as his welder dealt with the worst of the wound. Grasping wires seared and withered, weeping wounds sizzled and closed up as molten metal forced them into place, and the ghastly concoction of bodily fluids within the wound smoked until they were reduced to ash. 

Eventually, Optimus stopped screaming, his frame falling limp. At some point, Ratchet dragged his ailing Prime back to base. Then next he knew, Ratchet stood beside the medical berth his Prime lay on, a syringe in his grasp and ready to plunge into an exposed fuel line to ensure Optimus did not wake during what was bound to be a very grim and unsettling series of surgeries.

Extra

Optimus over here like: