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.

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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.

"The Autobot one." Tarn spits. "The one who abandoned the cause to go on a merry journey with a group of fragging misfits. The one who I served faithfully for millennia."

A deep stab of rage overwhelms him as he attempts to come to terms with his failure. He ends up just uselessly smashing his fist against the table.

Edited 2015-03-06 03:51 (UTC)

Pharma pulls his hands away now that the soldering part is more or less over with, just in time to be mildly startled by Tarn's little outburst. "Alright, you're not doing yourself any favors right now," he chides, handing over more nanite tape to Spinister should he need it.

And then he double-takes. "Wait -- an Autobot Megatron?"

"Oh, have you not heard?" there is a certain unhinged quality in Tarn's normally smooth voice. "Yes, Megatron has switched sides. Apparently he has had a change of heart after three million years of killing Autobots."

He shakes the sting out of his hand. That was unnecessary he supposes but it did help to vent some of his anger.

"As you can imagine I was rather shocked."

"Yeah, that was kind of a bummer," Spinister mutters, wringing one of the energon soaked rags out over a bucket before going back to soak up more of the pooled energon out of Tarn's innards. "I mean, I'm not that surprised it happened, but I kinda wish it hadn't? Figures he'd ditch us when the going got tough though."

"There's some energon cubes in the box over there. Think we ought to start prepping some of that for a transfusion," he says, accepting the tape as he checks over their work for any more leaks. Next bit was working through alllll the broken bits and bobs in their patient's torso.

Pharma's still a little stunned over this revelation. His last response before proceeding with work? "I swear I just felt the Pits freeze over." He still has work to do, though, so he heads for the cubes, hesitating once he grabs one. However, he gets a hold of himself, grabs three, and brings them back to Spinister. "I'm surprised he's still conscious, really. Stubborn aft."

"I may be injured but I'm not deaf." Tarn snaps back. He really wants to be unconscious to be honest, but his apprehension keeps him on his toes. Unfortunatly for him he is fading fast despite it. His optic flickers briefly. "Please, just get on with it."

He pins Spinister with a weak glare. 'Kind of a bummer' was really a rather insultingly light way of putting his disappointment. "Perhaps you should consider a bit of respect for the memory of our esteemed leader."

"Tarn, it's okay to say bad things about people who've ditched us," Spinister consoles, very gently patting Tarn's... Well, that used to be a piston of some sort but it was pretty warped and currently mashing a bunch of wires into Tarn's coolant tank.

"Nah, this is pretty normal for Decepticons. Everyone's got this deep seated distrust of medics and medical procedures so they're always trying to be awake for everything," the heli explains as he starts working at getting said piston out of Tarn. "It's a thing from the Functionist days when medics and medical facilities treated our people like crap."

"Also, Decepticon medics tend to be evil part-time mad scientist nutholes."

Pharma moves in to assist Spinister any way he can, scoffing quietly, both out of laughter at the concept of Tarn being patted like a pet turbofox and from the explanation. "So you have different breeds of Decepticons, then. Funny, I always saw you as all the same -- aside from the varying degrees of insanity and number of murders committed."

Pot, meet kettle. It's black.

Edited 2015-03-10 03:55 (UTC)

Tarn would be glaring at them both but he is barely coherent at this point. His hand twitches in an attempt to swat at Spinister's hand as he pats him, but it barely makes it a few inches off the table.

"Shut..up..." He doesn't want to sleep but, Primus, his HUD is pinging errors and displaying precursors to system shutdown. "Keep me awake...I don't care how. Just...keep me talking."