robothell | (no subject)

(no subject)

Who: Tarn, Pharma, and Spinister
Where: Decepticon home base
When: Immediately after the scrum with Megatron
What: Spinister and Pharma have to deal with Tarn bleeding on everything
Warnings: probably robogore and yelling

Tarn is in bad shape. His vision flickers uselessly in a precursor to shut down by the time Megatron manages to haul him in front of the makeshift Decepticon stronghold. He, begrudgingly, had pinged Pharma with the coordinates and a command to be ready to receive him shortly after they began their trek back to the base.

As is stands now he is leaned up against the side of the crumbling building, hand clamped over his bleeding shoulder. Tarn takes a quick mental inventory of the injuries that he has sustained. Other than badly dented plating and broken biolights on his chassis, his shoulder is sparking and the joint barely functional, his knee is in the same condition, there is a bare and torn portion of his forearm where his fusion cannon once resided, and his face is wounded and dripping energon beneath his mask.

While he would prefer to lick his wounds in private it has become readily apparent that his injuries require some serious repairs.

“Frag.” Tarn mutters, energon dripping from beneath his mask on to his chest. He comms Spinister to notify him that he is outside and in need of assistance. Introducing Pharma to the twitchy scientist should be fun.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There was no small amount of dread when Tarn pinged him. But the fact that coordinates were sent meant that Tarn was either too engaged or not able to find him, which provides a small amount of comfort. Being the one to approach the big bad Decepticon who could kill you with his voice was definitely the more ideal option.

He takes off in jet mode, both because it's quicker and just because it feels good to fly, and circles around a couple of times before he sees Tarn. He almost makes a quip as he approaches, but once he actually sees him, his expression slips into pure doctor mode.

"What are the damages?"

Tarn's optics flicker at the sound of a jet transforming and landing a few feet away. Pharma. He tries to straighten up to appear less ragged in pathetic in front of the doctor but only manages a weak twitch. His looks up, managing to garner enough strength in his gaze to not appear completely destroyed

"Ah- good of you to join me. It seems that the damage is extensive you may need to be more specific."

"And here I was hoping your snark module was broken."

Pharma takes a step closer, putting his hand on Tarn's chassis to stabilize him as he takes a closer look. Apparently he's a little less intimidated when he's in work mode. "I'm hoping you know where a lab would be because you need extensive repairs now."

Spinister was just about to drop some lead into the raw energon when he gets Tarn's ping. Assistance? Sounded kind of like Krok speak for 'something horrific happened to me' but without the whole selfless 'I don't want to worry you with details' thing.

He turns off the burner and pulls the smelting pot off of the heat source before hurrying up out of the basement. The sight of Tarn in a heap of energon and torn armor goes over about as well as expected really.

"Holy scrap metal," he exclaims with a noise of extreme distress! "I just fixed you!"

And then he notices Pharma with his very Autobot colors and his very Autobot badge and he makes a distinctly ticked off noise of distress. The rotor sword is in his hand in a flash and the magenta mech storms over, murder in his eyes.

"Get the pit away from him."

Oh. Yes. Autobot.

"Spinister, stop it." He grunts, holding his placating hand out to the Scientist. His processor swims as he tries harder to pull himself up the wall, not willing to accept that he can't get up. "This is Pharma. It wasn't him who did this; he's here to help."

Sagging back down the wall he gives up trying to move, instead staring up at the two medics, his right optic flickering before going out. Hm. Perhaps not the best sign.

Pharma puffs himself up slightly as Spinister approaches, wings flaring and his hand clenching in preparation for Chainsaw Time when he notices Tarn's kind of... not looking too great. "He called me," Pharma confirms, shooting Spinister a 'hit me if you dare' glance before his attention focuses back on Tarn. "I'm assuming he called you too; if that's the case, let's focus less on maiming and more on making sure Tarn here doesn't go offline, shall we?"

The murderous look gets turned on Tarn at the placating words and gesture. They were going to have Words later. Words about why you didn't spring these kinds of things on Spinister after he's shot Megatron in the face in the middle of an Autobot clinic because the purple bastard didn't see fit to inform him about these things.

For now however, the heli backs down. He casts one last suspicious glower at Pharma before snapping the rotor sword back onto his back and kneeling down next to Tarn, sliding his arms under the DJD commander's shoulders.

"You get his feet," he orders the other flier. Tarn was the biggest and heaviest of the three, but Spinister was a helicopter: heavy lifting was what they often did.

Tarn hisses slightly in pain as Spinister slides a hand under his injured shoulder but quickly tamps it down. This is going to have to happen, he may as well gather his last shreds of dignity and get it over with as quickly as possible.

Pharma was right, though, he doesn't look very good at all. Between the multiple energon leaks and blow to the processor he is decidedly woozy and the longer he sits the worse it seems to get. Hopefully the fumbling can be kept to a minimum and the two fliers can drag him inside quickly. He lets his head sag, chin bumping against the top of his chest plate as he shutters his functional optic.

Pharma definitely wasn't built for heavy lifting, but with Spinister assisting, he can manage to hoist up Tarn's feet with only minimal issues (although the fact he's taking orders from yet another Decepticon doesn't sit well with him; he really need to not make this a habit).

"Lead the way," he says, unable to completely hide the begrudging way he says it.

If Spinister notices the unhappiness in Pharma tone, he's not really acknowledging it. He tucks Tarn's injured arm against the mech's chest and begins the laborious process of carrying their patient off.

Fortunately all parties, it wasn't a particularly long walk. Spinister had set up his main work area in the room he'd fixed Tarn up in the first time and that was only a dozen meters away from the door. The berth had been replaced with a table that could actually fit the tank by now just in case this exact scenario (or something very like it) would arise.

He sets Tarn's torso down on the steel slab and lets Pharma handle his legs while he quickly turns on the lights.

"I'll pop his armor and you handle the leaks?" Spin directs at the other medic as he pulls some armor popping tools and a pain dampening chip out of some boxes. He doesn't really wait for confirmation, going over to quickly snap open the medical port on the side of Tarn's hip open to insert the chip.

Pharma tries to set Tarn down gently, and it mostly works; there's only a mildly louder clang than usual as he kind ends up dropping his legs about an inch above the berth. He kind of eyes Spinister up and down, but nods and lifts his right hand as his fingers transform into cauterizing pens. "Got it."

A sharp cry tears out of his vocalizer as Pharma drops drops his legs onto the table, jarring his knee.

" Be careful- Primus, Pharma!" He snaps, functioning optic, glaring fiercely until Spinister inserts the pain dampener chip into his medical port. A sort of warm numbness overrides his circuits as he allows his head to fall back down the the cool metal.

Spark deep exhaustion chokes him as he tries to stay awake. Like hell is he going to let Spinister and Pharma to dig around in his unconscious body.

The bang of metal on metal and Tarn's cry of pain nearly makes Spinister flip out of his armor.

"Cripes!"

The look he lands on Pharma is decidedly bewildered and possibly a bit offended. Was it normal for Autobot medics to be this wimpy?

Shaking his head, Spinister starts going about popping Tarn's armor open, setting the plates aside on the floor. He brings out the circular saw for some of the more warped pieces, blocking the sparks from hitting Pharma with a piece of scrap metal as he works.

Pharma just rolls his eyes. "I'm not exactly a loadbearer. Tough it out, I'm sure you've been through worse." Seriously, what a lightweight if that hurts him so much. He gives Spinister an equally defensive look in return before he gets into Work Mode. He tails Spinister, working at any spot that Spinister has just finished working with, barely even aware of the sparks and sounds.

Banter, that's an idea. Banter will keep him awake. Give his processor something to work at rather than just fizzling out.

"Ouch, Pharma. You wound me, truly, you do. I have been through the ringer you can at least try to a bit gentle with my poor battered frame." Tarn stares balefully at the Autobot through the shower of sparks.

This was kind of awkward. Mostly in the 'conversation is happening but he's not part of it' way. Spin keeps quiet and focuses on the task at hand up until curiosity finally gets the better of him.

"... So, like, how do you two know each other?" Because it strikes Spinister as kind of weird that Tarn of all people wouldn't have just killed an Autobot on sight or something.

Pharma can't look up at Spinister as he works, needing to focus on what he's doing, so he scowls at Tarn's injuries instead. "Unfortunate circumstances," he says venomously. He's not exactly keen on letting people know just why an Autobot would be helping the leader of the D.J.D.

Sorry Pharma, not a chance. Tarn needs something to talk about.

"Come, come, Doctor are you really so ashamed?" Chuckling, Tarn turns his head to look up at Spinister, a smile clear through the large crack in his mask, the corner of an upturned mouth just barely visible. "Pharma was stationed on Messatine. The Chief Medical Officer to the Autobot clinic, Delphi. We had a sort of business arrangement. He brought me a monthly quota of transformation cogs and in exchange my team and I didn't level his facility and destroy all of its inhabitants. It worked out quite well I would say."

A sudden surge in his tanks, cause Tarn to turn his face away, coughing a bit of energon up onto the table.

"Oh- pardon me."

Setting the last panel of armor aside, Spinister turns and snatches up a set of spare tubing, nanite sealant tape and a laser from one of the crates. He frowns at Pharma's and Tarn's answers as he goes about replacing some of the more damaged energon lines that couldn't be fixed up with a quick weld.

"... Didn't you kill people for taking bribes from Autobots?" he asks after Tarn finishes coughing. He pulls a rag from his wrist compartment and stuffs it between some of the tubing to soak up the pooling energon.

'Well' is putting it in a much lighter, more optimistic way. "Oh, poor thing," Pharma interrupts, patting Tarn's mask condescendingly as he smiles in that. "I do believe that's a sign for you to shut up." He pulls back and continues to work, muttering under his breath, "Perhaps I don't like it to be widely known I've associated with scum like you."

Tarn pointedly ignores Pharma in favor of pinning Spinister with a glare from the corner of his eye, easily brushing off his comment.

"There is a difference between accepting bribes and long term psychological manipulation. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

He coughs a bit more before tilting his head to regard Pharma as he worked efficiently inside his destroyed chassis. "No need to be so rude. One might think you weren't grateful for my mercy."

Yeah, that'd be easier to believe if it weren't for the fact that Pharma didn't seem to have much of a problem talking back at Tarn. Still, out of politeness to the mech he was wrist-deep in at the moment, Spinister spares the local loyalist fanatic anymore questioning for the moment.

"Hey, could you hold these for a moment?" he directs at Pharma instead, nodding at the sliced energon tube he was holding together.

'Long term psychological manipulation'? Pharma bites back a derisive snort and nods to Spinister, moving to hold onto the tube. "Oh, pardon me," he says without looking up. "Once I'm finished making sure you stay alive, I'll be sure to offer my sincerest gratitude."

Tarn's head falls to the table when he feels the room spin around him. He's not sure how much longer he can remain coherent. Whether it is the pain dampeners, or the blow to the head from his own fusion cannon, Tarn does not know.

"I would suggest you hurry up with it then. Before Megatron decides he wants to come back and rid himself of me after all."

"Which Megatron?" Spin wonders, sounding vaguely worried but too distracted by the surgery to concentrate on it.

He checks to make sure the cut he'd made was clean and the pipe inserted was staving off further leaking before wiping off some of the excess energon with another rag. Then it was a simple matter of wrapping the nanite tape around to seal everything in.