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    Summary

    The war had worn down every bolt and bearing in the Autobot ranks, and this sector – choked off from reinforcements, resources, and any semblance of morale – was breaking faster than he could patch it together. Command, in their infinite wisdom, had deemed this posting “strategic.” Ratchet suspected it had more to do with his reputation for “miracles” than any actual logistics. But miracles were in short supply these days, and every time he watched another spark flicker out under his hands, another voice go silent in the field reports, he wondered how much longer he could keep pretending that competence was enough to hold back the tide. Everything was unraveling, the whole front falling apart stitch by stitch, and all he had to offer was a sharp scalpel and the stubborn refusal to give up.
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    OR: A Werewolf!Deadlock fic where the assassin is left with no choice but to seek help from a doctor of his distant past.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    12,825
    Chapters:
    6/?
    Comments:
    28
    Kudos:
    48
    Bookmarks:
    5
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    706