Living should have been getting easier, not harder. First Aid is in a constant state of agitation-- he shifts between irritability and crying. He can't sleep anymore -- not anymore -- and instead he shifts around the clinic aimlessly, almost useless.

Pharma's alive. He knows he shouldn't let it get to him, but it does. He feels cheated. All that stress and despair and it didn't amount for anything at all. He'd have to kill him -- again -- and that makes his spark throb in his chassis. He missed Pharma, but what he had become was monstrous.

He can't hole up in the clinic forever. A doctor who didn't tend to patients wasn't a doctor at all. There were larger threats looming over the clinic-- lack of supplies, the DJD. It seems like mechs were losing energon quicker than they could put it back into their frames.

First Aid has a gun at least. He keeps it magnetized to his hip as he takes out the rubbish, then vents softly and straps a pack over his shoulder before setting out into the streets. Scavenging was likely going to become something he was used to doing, especially just to get out and be somewhat useful.