So Tarn walks into a Bar...

[sparkwhisperer]

Who: Tarn and You
Where: the NEW Maccadams Old Oil House
When: right now
What: Tarn tries to make some new friends
Warnings: None :0

It has been weeks since Tarn’s fight with Megatron and he has kept himself as scarce as possible, nursing his wounds, and even more recently, his broken pride. Spending his days mostly alone has begun to wear heavily upon him, too ashamed by his recent fall from the Decepticons to face most of the mechs in the base.

The bare patch on his chassis still jars him when he glances down at it.

Still, he can’t help but think about what Sixshot told him. He can’t hide forever, and the longer he waits the more the Autobots will think that they have won. A change of tactics does seem to be in order.

Tarn has wandered from the base still wearing his scars from the battle and hobbled by a slight limp; but otherwise at nearly full strength. Heading deep into the city, the DJD Commander begins his search for any flicker of civilization in the vast, crumbling, nearly desolate city. He wants to be seen. To let it be known that he is done hiding and won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. They will be forced to face him whether they want to or not.

Before long he stumbles upon a small establishment, clearly Autobot owned. Maccadams, it seems, has made it to even this Cybertron. He isn’t surprised; though as he approaches the door he does note a small sign clearly stating ‘No Tarns’ in bold lettering. A Deep booming guffaw rips from him before he quickly tamps it down, muffling his chuckling by clearing his throat. Tarn straightens his back, lifting his head and purposefully ignores the sign. The former Decepticon pushes the door open and steps confidently into the dim lighting of the bar.

This can only go well.

Comments

[sparkwhisperer]

"I know nothing other than what Megatron, himself, told me."

"Mostly that the war is over and he has to atone for the mistakes that he made. Nothing about how it actually happened, or the events leading up to it. Just his weak reasoning as to why it has to be."

Tarn locks eyes with Shockwave's singular yellow optic.

"Tell me."

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn is lucky that the his mask hides the shit eating grin that has taken over his face when Rodimus absolutely loses it. It really had no business being this easy to get under the flashy Autobot's plating. And in the end, he has in fact given Tarn exactly what he wanted.

The punch, he will admit, had more force behind it than he was expecting, knocking him just slightly toward the edge of his stool. His lip catches on the edge of his own grin, splitting it and causing his own energon to mix with the sweet taste of the engex on his tongue.

Straightening up slowly, he casts Rodimus a sort of quietly arrogant look. "Well, that was quite uncalled for. So juvenile too; name calling is for the crass and cavalier, hasn't anyone ever told you that?"

[lifepersists]

Tarn's laughter made First Aid feel sick. He could feel his tank roiling like he swallowed spoiled energon, burning up his chest and the bottom of his intake. He swallowed it down, fighting the feeling, since he doubted that the leader of the DJD would take kinder to being purged on than the insult of spilled engex.

"There's no List here," he says quietly, his optics cast down at his drink. "And if you return you won't find him. He's dead. I killed him."

His hand leaves his drink, dropping to his lap.

"I don't feel like drinking any more. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get back to writing."

[sparkwhisperer]

"So soon? But we have just begun such an interesting conversation." Tarn nudges First Aid's drink closer to him. "Please, I insist."

Such a bold little medic. Willing to give Tarn so much attiude; he is not at all surprised that he worked under Pharma.

"Perhaps there is no list here, its true." Tarn leans forward toward First Aid, lowering his voice every so slightly, "But, it does tell me what he is capable of, and certainly where his loyalities lie. If not back there, then certainly here."

[lifepersists]

When the leader of the DJD was nudging a drink in your directly after politely refusing, sometimes it was best to just shut up and drink. At the very least First Aid was certain that it wasn't poisoned.

He can feel the warmth of Tarn's vents against his plates as he leans forward and he fights the urge to recoil. His spark starts to ache as he speaks, pulsing slightly irregular, and First Aid's visor widens slightly. It wasn't that he feared death; it's the pain that's startling.

"You can keep him. He certainly deserves you," he spits bitterly, his hand closing around his drink again.

First Aid's mask opens so he can drink and he takes a pull from it, looking at Tarn's face. He hoped he was satisfied.

"He might mistake a chainsaw for a scalpel though."

[rodders]

It is intensely satisfying to have at least punch him, even if it doesn't really do much. But any sense of satisfaction is washed away by the fact that Tarn just shrugs it all off. 'Name calling is for the crass and cavawhatever.

"Do you see this?" He says, pointing to himself. "This is me, not caring." But one more thing: "It's not uncalled for, Tarn. You deserve everything you get."

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn delights as the tiny Autobot stiffens, glaring bitterly in his direction as that spark deep pain begins to take hold. Just enough to ache, but not really enough to do much damage. Surely it wouldn’t sit well with Megatron if he were to harm another one of his medic friends.

"He has his uses, that's for certain.” Tarn smirks behind his mask as First Aid begins to sip at his drink. Reaching over the bar top , he begins to fix his own hearty helping of engex.

“He certainly didn’t find it necessary to break out the chainsaw when he spent hours of his time preforming repairs on me just last month. Perhaps its just…well…you.” Tarn nods at the residual stump of First Aid’s arm.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn reaches up to swipe away a drop of energon that dared drip from behind his mask.

"That certainly is not true. And if it was, wouldn’t you say that Megatron evened the score when he beat me to the brink of death as you hid nearby like a coward?” He turns back to the bar, lifting his drink smoothly to his lips.

"Regardless, all this talk over a silly traitor. You certainly are invested in Drift. Has he been showing you some of the tricks he learned while scavenging in the Dead End?"

[orerrible]

"All this and what good would that do me to dismantle the man for you now?"

Shockwave crossed his ankles over the other and sat straight almost prim on the barstool with one hand on the countertop and the cannon for the other set evenly over his lap pointed away but with the implication that was liable to change with the direction.

"Optimus Prime's young scout master Bumblebee and I had an unfortunate run in when I was," Shockwave's massive yellow optic flicked for a brief moment elsewhere. "Caught in over my head researching the energy crisis. Megatron apparently suffered a resurgence of conscious in the wake of his death. I've been told they bonded and some of that ideology rubbed off him.

Easily - willing."

[rodders]

For a good long moment Rodimus is too angry at Tarn to form a coherent response. He doesn't care about the accusation of cowardice... no, he cares. He cares a lot. But how much he cares is instantly eclipsed by Tarn's next comment and how much he cares about that. Which means there's really only one course of action involved - launching himself at Tarn.

Yes. Literally launching himself, because common sense and Rodimus were never on speaking terms and it has now completely abandoned him. Sure, Tarn is bigger and... Tarn-y, purple and very very much a walking, talking machine of death and destruction but Rodimus has faced Megatron head on and only come away with a giant gaping hole in his chest.

Aiming to throw himself at Tarn so he can hit and kick whatever his hands and feet can reach is clearly a well-reasoned, justified response and not resulting from bad judgement made worse by anger. Obviously.

And if he can slap that drink out of his hands, so much the better.

"Don't ever say that about him again--"

He'll show Tarn 'coward', goddamn it.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn sees Rodimus gearing up for launch but there isn't enough time to brace himself. The force at which the red Autobot springs forward knocks him right off the other side of the stool, landing on his back with a loud clang and a quiet ‘oof’. His drink flies out of his hand spraying engex cross the floor and a nearby wall; cup clattering a few feet away.

Tarn manages to easily block most of Rodimus’ punches. To be honest, they barely even register when they do hit their mark. After a few moments, however, he gently flings Rodimus away when a punch cracks one of his remaining biolights. Rude.

The DJD Commander eases himself up onto his elbows, fingers flicking the broken glass away.

“Well that certain was something. It seems i’ve struck something of a nerve. Still, you shouldn’t be so quick to fight; especially when you are so hilariously out of your depth. You’re lucky that I’m in a forgiving mood. I don't have time for such childishness."

He glances around the bar quickly to see who is around and how much he can get away with.

this is so late i'm so sorry

[rodders]

Rodimus hits the ground with a ringing clang, and while common sense would tell him to knock it off before it gets worse, he's not listening. There's just the ringing accusation that seems to echo in his head, blocking out what remaining common sense he has left. He practically jumps to his feet, hands still clenched into fists.

"Go to hell, Tarn." He frame heaves for a long moment, optics a furious white. "You started this, not me."

Not exactly true, but Tarn had clearly ignored the sign he'd posted. Which was important, he didn't just put it there for shits and giggles, alright? It was there for a reason - a place away from murdering assholes like Tarn. Who'd just-- he'd just ignored it like it was nothing!