robothell | (no subject)

(no subject)

Who: Tarn and First Aid with a guest appearance by Rampage, Tarn and Sixshot
What: Tarn has "words" with First Aid
When: a few weeks after pollen
Where: somewhere near the Autobot Medibay
Warnings: gratuitous robot violence. Seriously.

Embarrassment. It’s the only word Tarn can find to describe how he feels upon recollection of his last meeting with First Aid. The tiny Autobot had taken him firmly in hand, taking advantage of every shameful desire that he could muster; drunk with the effects of the pollen that had clogged his systems.

Worse than what the medic had seen was what he probably thinks. After how Tarn had acted, any respect or fear that First Aid had was surely long gone. And what rumors had he been spreading? Who else knew about the incident? His tanks churn at the thought.

Really, Tarn knows what he must do. The only thing keeping him contained, so far, was the thought of Megatron finding out. They had come so far, trust was just beginning to be rebuilt. Was his pride really worth shattering all that work?

Yes. It was.

Which is how Tarn found himself prowling the back alleys near the Autobot Medibay, optics scanning for a certain small red and white Autobot that he was to have words with.

Fortunately it doesn’t take him long.

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He looms overhead, his frame a dark mass of murderous anger as he sends Tarn deeper into the ground with a heavy stomp to the gut. He keeps his heel there, digging the boot into the less armored plating just below his chest, bending and warping and cracking what was underneath.

"You're a bigger fool than I ever took you for, Tarn," he snarls back, bending forward on that knee, optics beginning to spark,"You can't even follow the one command I gave you. Do you even remember what it was?"

Tarn wheezes, thrashing under Megatron’s foot. He claws wildly, trying to shove it off as it pins him to the floor, crushing some of his internals.

“Release me!” he grunts, flailing under him “You’ve given me multiple commands, you may need to be more specific.”

He spits energon up at Megatron, aiming for his face. The irony hits him punch to the face. Megatron has finally done what Tarn wanted from him. The anger, the violence…only it’s aimed at the wrong person.

"This is absurd, Megatron!"

"Allow me to remind you, then ."

Tarn's excuses do nothing to win him back any favors, and he instead get a ruthless squeeze to his internals until something under his boot finally pops.

Megatron lowers down so that the DJD commander can get a good look at his face, energon and all, and how very much he wasn't in the mood to fuck around.

"Don't. Touch. The Autobots."

Tarn makes a pained growl, trying to curl in on himself as agony spreads through his internals. All it takes is a brief moment for him to lose control before he finds the palm of his hand connecting with Megatron’s nose, shoving with all of his strength and kicking out with the pointed tips of his feet, trying to gouge metal.

He just wants Megatron’s weight off of him as he violently spits static and energon.

So this is what it took to finally get some resistance, huh? He turns his head as Tarn shoves his palm up, moving back up with the force. Metal sparks and scrapes as his feet kick up, and Megatron does stumble a bit, but manages to stay on his feet as the pressure on Tarn's stomach is alleviated.

He says nothing as he gains his bearings, leaving Tarn to tend to his new injury on the ground. Maybe now his intentions were clear to him.

Tarn immediately curls away, hand coming to his crushed stomach plating.

"What do you want from me?"

Its an honest question. Tarn has no idea what the future holds for him. It's perfectly clear now that Megatron no longer considers him an ally and a part of Tarn has to agree.

This could still go many ways.

There's no sympathy for Tarn here. His gaze is steely and cold as Tarn curls up, almost the same look he gave Sentinel on his medical bed. At one point, he may have felt guilty over hurting another Cybertronian, even Tarn. But it's been a long time since that softness had been beaten out of him. Even with Ratchet's efforts, he could never go fully back.

"I've made it abundantly clear what I want from you. But it's clear enough to me you are utterly uninterested in providing it."

He steps forward again.

To Tarn's credit, he doesn't flinch away as Megatron steps forward.

"You're right." He bites out, "You may have my apologies for that and nothing more."

He uncurls himself, exposing delicate stomach plating as he pulls himself up the wall to face Megatron head on. His knees wobble a bit uneasily, but hold.

"I suppose you have a punishment in mind."

Smoldering coals stare back, still bright with fury, but not quite intending to break him just yet.

"You're more trouble than you're worth, Tarn."

He stands straight.

"You will be dead on the ground in a cycle's time. Don't bother trying to run. I'd suggest you make peace with whatever higher power you believe in."

Tarn’s optics are wide with surprise. He expected a lot of things, but not death

“You can’t be serious.” he scoffs, “Be reasonable Megatron, certainly he isn’t worth all of this fuss.”

He slowly tries to shift away from the livid Decepticon, putting more space between them.

"You've ignored my wishes long before that," he merely follows Tarn with his gaze as he shifts away, the threat of his wrath still very much weighing the air.

He knows arguing the morality of the thing was pointless with Tarn. Teaching the Decepticon that his own words had power to them, and consequences for ignoring them, seemed to be the only angle left.

"My only mistake was not seeing you as a lost cause the first time you did this."

Edited 2015-11-28 23:28 (UTC)

Megatron is still situated between Tarn and the door and he’s pinned tightly in a corner unless he wants to go through his old leader.

“Come now, Megatron, those are awfully strong words I’m sure we can come to some sort of an arrangement. Lets not do anything too hasty.”

Taking a deep breath he puts his hands where Megatron can see them, attempting to appear as non-threatening as possible. He just needs to calm Megatron enough to make it to the door.

"Like what, Tarn?" His fists clench at his sides, utterly unconvinced of anything the Decepticon was spewing. "What do you possibly think could change my mind at this point?"

Edited 2015-11-29 12:52 (UTC)

"Let me go. I'll leave the base and you won't see me." He takes a step forward, optics flicking to the door.

He's sure that Megatron just needs space. He'll come around sooner or later, Tarn just needs to be patient.

He just needs to get out of this room.

"I won't come back."

"Let you go?"

He stays firmly planted where he was, unafraid of the approaching Decepticon.

"How many of your victims have you 'let go'? How many have you afforded that same mercy?"

Edited 2015-11-29 22:13 (UTC)

"None. You trained my to be thorough" Tarn doesn't back down, instead he takes a few more small steps forward, before attempting to begin edging around Megatron's murderous field.

"Be careful, Megatron, you are using me as an behavioral example. Whatever would the Autobots think?"

Megatron watches as Tarn begins to circle around him, stepping forward to meet him. The presumption brings a wrinkle of disgust to his features.

"Don't flatter yourself. We're nothing alike."

"Believe what you would like, but actions speak louder than words."

Tarn stops short as Megatron cuts him off. He is quick to tamp down a spike of anxiety. He can handle this.

"Consider carefully..."

He goes to dodge him by rounding in the opposite direction.

With a curse, Tarn takes cover from the blast as Ramapage’s missile hits a few yards away. He finds himself choking on thick smoke, trying to expel debris from his vents. Using the dust as cover, Tarn begins his his hasty retreat. He stops only to throw his last two cents in.

“I welcome the challenge."

Rampage is really very tempted to continue shooting missiles after Tarn, but time is of the essence. He can shoot at Tarn another time, but First Aid is only likely to die once.

Crouching over First Aid's battered form, he lets out a slight huff. The feel of his aching, shrinking spark is sweet, and for a moment Rampage wonders if this is the right thing to do.

"Do I extend your suffering, or end your pain?" he asks conversationally even though First Aid is far beyond answering now.

He has no moral compass to guide him. He would ask himself what Transmutate would do, but he doesn't really know. So he's left with his own desires, and his desires say he doesn't want First Aid to die. Not now, not like this.

He has no equipment for a proper transfusion, nor does he know how to perform one. So he simply casually tears an energon line from his wrist, ignoring the spray of fluid, then forces it over the torn end of one of First Aid's own dripping lines.

The pool of fluids soaking the ground grows.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Ratchet barely manages to modulate his voice into something that isn't a shriek, hobbling around a broken chunk of building and finding Rampage pressing one of his own torn lines to--he feels the bottom drop from his tanks and fall, endlessly, as he barely recognizes the medic insignia emblazoned on one energon-smeared shoulder of the crumpled mess on the ground. It's First Aid--it has to be, though he's unrecognizable. Ratchet takes a split second to be stunned and sick before he refocuses his attention, drawing himself up on his crutches.

"You want to help?" he snaps at Rampage, his ventilation short and shallow now, calculations for equipment and supplies needed already running through his head, triaging injuries as he sees them, barely taking his optics off First Aid. "Get him back to the medibay, now, let's go!"

Rampage finds himself hunching protectively over First Aid at the sound of Ratchet's shout. His head snaps up to glare at him - the medic red and whites actually make his horns bristle threateningly, never mind that the crumpled form he's feeding energon into shares the same paint job.

There's a soft growl escaping his vocalizer, and he hesitates. He doesn't want to go the medibay. He doesn't want this medic anywhere near him.

But... there's no way First Aid will survive without medical attention. He's not like Rampage. He can't heal himself. So before he lets himself think too much about it, he forces himself to his feet, clutching First Aid's tattered chassis to his chest and follows Ratchet. His spark is so weak next to his own...

"How long has he been leaking there?" Ratchet demands as he moves, all his attention focused on his patient now, barely acknowledging Rampage at all. He shoulders his way into the medibay and holds the door open for Rampage behind him, his optics pale with fright and concentration.

"There, on the operating slab. Grab me that cart, the one in the corner, and the pole stand next to it." He doesn't even question whether Rampage is going to stick around to help, just moves to the slab in question and spreads what's left of First Aid out on it before he starts to work.

"Not long-" Rampage starts. He makes it halfway to the operating slab, then locks up.

His optics fixate on the metal bed and Ratchet's words fading away, not even noticing as First Aid is pulled away and laid out.

On the operating slab, X.

No, he doesn't want to-

Follow the order, or there will be consequences.

Not again, it hurt last time-

Good. The restraints, please- thank you, now we may begin.

No, no, no-!

The only thing he ends up grabbing are his own upper arms, fingers pressing tight against the metal. Most useful assistant.

Ratchet looks to the side to grab his tools only to find them still across the room and Rampage curled in on himself.

"Out of the way," he snaps, moving around Rampage and hooking a crutch around the corner of the cart to drag it over, then turning his back on Rampage again as he starts to work in earnest, patching lines and reconnecting circuits, struggling to get First Aid stable.

"Are you hurt?" he asks over his shoulder, barely looking away--Rampage had moved all right getting there, and he hadn't complained, but Ratchet has no idea why he's just standing there. "What's your name?"

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