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So it turns out that it might have not been the best idea to keep a bunch of Decepticons all crowded in one area.
Of course, they didn’t really have anywhere else to put them, the theatre was huge, and the Autobots had to keep track of everyone.
But that meant that anything that the Decepticons had in the prisons meant that they carried it over to the theatre.
Case in point, Jetfire.
He had managed to catch what seemed like a sore throat, but quickly became worse, to the point where he couldn't talk without pain. Jetfire would be fine, just without a lot of medical resources, it would take a lot longer for him to get better.
He had confined himself to one part of the theatre, hoping to not get anyone else sick. That didn't stop Red Alert from coming in to check on him every so often.
“Red… I don't… want you…”
“Relax, Jetfire, I'm not getting sick.” Red Alert had actually adopted wearing a mask around Jetfire and the other patients, he likely would’ve been fine.
Red handed Jetfire a ration of energon, and the larger mech drank it down quickly.
“Careful, we don't want you getting a tank ache as well.”
“Throat…hurts…”
Red Alert put a hand on Jetfire’s helm, and rubbed his thumb against it gently. “I know, Jetfire.” Red hated that he couldn’t do anymore for Jetfire, all they could do was wait.
Even if they found something that would help, Jetfire would insist on treating the other patients with it first than him…
“I have to get back now,” Red Alert whispered. Jetfire nodded as he offlined his optics, hoping to get some rest. Red walked to the door, and shut off the lights before heading back out.