"I think you proved yourself to Red Alert already." Wry amusement colors his words as he recalls the rather rocky meeting with the head of the clinic.

"As for Ratchet, well," Aftermath leans against the side of the berth. "I have quite a few stories from other soldiers talking about a doctor who'd helped them when they'd ended up in the Dead End slums."

"Mind you, 'Ratchet' is a rather common name for their lot." Giving Megatron's shoulder a firm pat, the old truck's visor lights up in a smile before he turns to go hunt down a chair. "I wouldn't go around assuming he was the one they spoke of."

Bit of a survival tip there, youngster.