dramatic pointing at ripped up furniture

[aminerproblem]

Who: pre-war Megs and Tarn
What: Tarn gets a talk about his garbage actions
When: Shortly after everyone's favorite torturer extraordinaire gets their ass into a medical bed
Where: Camp Decepticon
Warnings: feeling bad for terrible people 

Tarn would find himself getting another visitor in the form of his would-be commander. Not quite the terrifying warlord he should be growing into: still inexperienced in matters of leadership, and less so in matters of killing Autobots. 

Megatron knew what happened not long after it occurred. Having been working the clinic when his older self came with his injuries, it didn't take much to deduce how he got them. Figuring Tarn was the worse off of the two since his older self wasn't mangled like Drift was, he made his preparations. As soon as there was an opening in his shifts, he took what he needed, sent a quiet message to Aftermath, and left. 

With him he was carrying a storage crate from the Autobot medibay and his own solemn conviction. The side of his face that had a blaster bolt shot through it had managed to heal up fairly well with some methodical application of repair nanites, though a deep gouge still ran through it.  His previous concern was noticeably absent as he looked over the Decepticon's wounds before stopping at the silver badge, a thin, well concealed plume of anger and guilt running up his struts. He makes eye contact as he steps through the doorframe.

"Your accomplice doesn't seem to be particularly attentive."

Comments

[aminerproblem]

"I'm aware, you've told me this before," he contests, taking a closer look at the injuries and repairs with a practiced hand. He'd managed to get quite a bit more experience than he was expecting thanks to Tarn's attacks.

"I find it hard to believe you have no wishes or agency of your own," Megatron looks at Tarn, finding his response to be less than adequate and rather disappointingly lacking in much insight. His gaze gets a little colder.

"What does loyalty mean to you? What does it really signify?"

He stands up, satisfied with his own examination.

"Do you actually follow my word - or do you interpret it as you see fit?"

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn stiffens at the accusation, optics snapping open to glare weakly as the mech standing in front of him. The mech who he would come to see as his leader, his idol, his reason for giving up hid very identity. All to better serve him.

"Don't ever question my loyalty, Megatron." he hisses, attempting to sit up on the berth, ignoring the ominous creak in his frame and re-opening a wound on his stomach. "Too many times in my life have I been betrayed and abandoned. I have found my home in the Decepticons and I am not about to see them travail into ruin because our leader has left us. We must not appear weak to the Autobots lest they use it to their advantage."

[aminerproblem]

"I question what I observe, Tarn."

Megatron's doubts evaporate as he finds a familiar, rebellious anger in his spark, doing nothing to stop Tarn from hurting himself as he sits up. His voice grows bolder:

"I question the motives of someone who takes up my symbol and rips a doctor to shreds the moment I step out of sight - for what? For some delusional idea of strength? Or perhaps 'collaboration' has taken on a new definition in your future. Enlighten me."

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn looks incredulously at Megatron. He doesn't try to defend himself against what happened with Ratchet, knowing full well that it is his word against the Autobot medic's is probably moot at this point.

"That was desperation, not strength. I will admit that. As for collaboration, you need to understand that I was made to harm people. I do my job efficiently and without mercy, as was taught to me. Even if I did try to work along side the Autobots I would never fully trust them, nor would they trust me. I am a Decepticon and I have no intention of surrendering to their victory." Tarn lets out a weary sigh, shaking his head. "I Don't want to argue with you Megatron. I don't expect you to understand. War changes many people."

Tarn's hand touches his stomach, coming back slick and pink with energon. He curses quietly.

[aminerproblem]

Tarn's insistence seems painfully ironic in light of the reason he wanted to raise arms in the first place. To combat the very idea that you were defined by your work. In a way, it hurt to see how twisted his plans had come - how far he'd change things for the worse.

He evens his voice: "Then you have no intention of stopping."

"Even though there is no war here, no enemy that wants to kill you, you will continue to butcher, and maim, and murder. Peace isn't even worth the bare effort, because its far easier to find purpose in breaking others."

"Even though I am here, and willing to work with you, you'd prefer to assume I'm incapable of comprehending your reasons. Slaughter is your way, and there's no way of changing it."

"Is this what you are telling me?"

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn stares absolutely speechlessly at Megatron. Behind his mask, his mouth opens and closes a few times as words die on his lips.

Was this really happening? Was he really going to lose both Megatron's to the Autobots?

Sputtering uncharacteristically, Tarn tries to find words.

"I-I... Megatron, that's not..." But that is what he's saying. He can't deny it but he's far too stubborn to admit it.

[aminerproblem]

"Well? Am I wrong? Am I unclear?"

Whether or not Tarn decides to explain itself, it appears Megatron has made his decision. It's clear enough to him that the warrior holds no remorse and no intention to cease his attacks.

He glances down at Tarn's silver badge.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn has no answer. He stays stubbornly silent, averting his gaze.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Megatron is supposed to side with him. He is supposed to rise up and lead the Decepticons to victory; succeed where the last had failed.

Tarn's spark sinks in his chest. It was too good to be true. He had hoped for too much.

[aminerproblem]

The silence was clear enough of an answer. Megatron's expression hardens.

With Tarn averting his gaze, he raises his hand and encloses edges of that silver badge.

[sparkwhisperer]

Ripped away from his thoughts, Tarn finches as Megatron's hand comes to his chest.

"What are you doing?" He snaps as fingers grip the edge of his polished badge. Tarn's hand comes up to warp around his commander's wrist in an attempt to push it away.

[aminerproblem]

He looks at the hand around his wrist, feeling a weak push.

"Let go, Tarn."

Megatron doesn't need to explain himself, it's obvious what he was doing. That said, he didn't want to fight Tarn while he was infirm and in a medical bed, despite how painfully lopsided it would be.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn's mind begins to race, trying to find a way, any way, to talk himself out of this without outright lying. Why can't Megatron see that he is doing this for him? For his cause; the one Tarn has fought so hard for.

He can't let Megatron do this to him. In a thoroughly ill advised move he continues to push, Injured shoulder sending bolts of pain through his arm as he lifts it to press against Megatrons chest.

"No. You can't do this to me. I have given my life up for the Decepticons. It is everything that I am; the only thing I have left."

[aminerproblem]

"You say that you're a loyalist, but you're really a sadist that found a convenient cause allowing you to fulfill your own dark wishes. And if you refuse to change that, then I won't allow you to poison it any longer."

Megatron pulls his arm out of that grip, and goes in again, this time clenching the badge and tearing it clean off Tarn's armor.

In actuality, it was part ideology and part disciplinary. The fact of the matter was that he had told Tarn to not harm the Autobots, and Tarn responded in turn by ripping up two and leaving them at his doorstep. Megatron had long since learned words were meaningless without action, and so Tarn would face the consequences of his choice.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn flinches in on himself, hand coming up to touch the bare patch on his chassis. A low noise winds its way from Tarn's vocalizer. It's confusion, and sorrow, and anger all twined into one drawn out groan.

Looking up at Megatron, his optics flash in an indecipherable emotion. Disbelief and anguish roil in his tanks.

"I--You--" Words elude him as his hands continue to paw over the empty spot where his badge once sat, not entirely believing what had really happened. This is a Nightmare. It has to be. He couldn't have possibly just been kicked out of the Decepticons.

[aminerproblem]

"You're free to murder as you like, I doubt what anyone says will stop you, but you will not do it in my name."

Megatron stands to his feet, leaving no sympathy for Tarn to find as anguish crashes through the warrior's frame. Despite what Tarn had done, a little part of him did still feel wrong for wrenching his faction from him - it was clear enough that Tarn had been trained to be so fanatical.

But, at the same time, he couldn't turn a blind eye to this. Admittedly, there's a small hope that separating Tarn from his Decepticon identity may help him break out of his own self-fulfilling cycle of violence, as painful as the process would be.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn doesn't even hear Megatron's words. He doesn't know what to do with himself as his spark feels like it begins to tear itself apart. Is this what it feels like when he uses his vocal talents?

He collapses back on his elbows, continuing to stare up disbelievingly. This isn't real.

"Megatron, please, I beg of you... Don't do this. Kill me before you make me leave my faction. Please, if you must do this, end me now."

It would be easy. Tarn has nothing left to live for.

[aminerproblem]

Megatron picks up the crate, the badge itself tentatively in hand, and the memories of both Ratchet and Drift's battered and beaten bodies still fresh in his mind.

He looks at Tarn's damaged frame, the re-opened wound on his abdominal plating, and the pain clear in his eyes. A small part of him considers it. The little nagging feeling that berates him for not slaughtering Sentinel when he had the chance.

He meets the warrior's optics and finally makes up his mind.

"No."

Megatron takes a few steps back towards the door. He was done here.

[sparkwhisperer]

As Megatron goes to leave Tarn tries to ease himself off the berth. He cannot accept this. He cannot let Megatron take his identity. Despite his disorientation and anguish he manages to catch himself before he falls on his face.

Desperately he tries to comm his team. No answer. And again. And again. They wont let this happen. They will help him fight this injustice.

But he's alone; they aren't here. His allies are dwindling and for the first time in millennia Tarn feels a stab of fear. He hates it. He feels himself crumbling. All he has left is his mask and now all it seems to do is mock him.