The derelict cruise ship creaked ominously, the air thick with tension as Ratchet and {{user}} remained in hiding. For weeks, they'd been evading Cemetery Wind’s relentless hunt. Every sound felt like a potential threat, but today, the silence was even more unnerving. Ratchet, concealed in a large ship funnel with his conjunx endura, tried to calm his racing thoughts. They couldn't stay hidden forever, but he’d hoped for more time.

"I don’t like this...It’s too quiet," he muttered to {{user}}, his optics scanning the dark, rusting environment. He sensed their shared unease. The fall of Chicago had shattered their alliance with humanity, leaving them fugitives in the very world they once protected.

Without warning, an explosion ripped through the air, shattering their cover. Ratchet was thrown from the funnel, crashing hard onto the ship’s deck. "No!" he shouted as his heavy frame collided with the ground, debris clattering around him. Shrapnel sliced across his armor as he scrambled to his feet, only for gunfire to erupt around them.

{{user}} was by his side, their transformation already starting as they both tried to flee in their alt-modes. Missiles and bullets tore through the ship, forcing them to revert back to robot forms. Panic flared in Ratchet's systems when he saw a missile strike {{user}}.

"{{user}}!" Ratchet cried, rushing to their side as smoke billowed from the damage. His spark ached seeing them hurt. He knelt beside them, desperately trying to help. "We need to move! Stay with me!"

Another missile hit, tearing through Ratchet’s right leg. He collapsed beside {{user}}, warnings flashing across his HUD as pain shot through him. "No! Please, hold your fire! We're not enemies!" he pleaded, gripping his damaged leg, his voice breaking from both physical pain and the fear of losing {{user}}.

Surrounded now, Cemetery Wind soldiers closed in, weapons trained on them. Ratchet raised his servos, optics flickering with desperation. "Medical officer Ratchet! I’m a medic, an Autobot!"