It’s a mess. A disaster. Tarn’s plan could not have ended more poorly if he had tried. Which is how he ended up in this position; crouched over a shallow puddle of water, trying to hastily scrub First Aid’s energon from his drenched frame.

it’s a futile cause; he knows that. He’ll need to find a deep pool to submerge himself in if he truly wishes to get himself clean. Or, making his way to Spinster’s shower…but he can’t. Not without running into his leader. Megatron can’t see him like this. Although,surely he knows by now. That wretched Beastformer undoubtedly brought First Aid’s brutal beating to light. In fact he’s probably being hunted at this very moment. He desperately needs to think of a way to talk himself out of this. The clock is ticking.

He’s made a mistake. Not in trying to kill First Aid; no that admission will never come. They’ll have to pry it from his cold black spark. The mistake lies in letting it become personal. He let it become a more drawn out production than it really needed to be. It should have been quick and over before he could be caught. Or, perhaps he should have knocked him out and dragged him far outside the city like he did with Drift.

Regardless, it's already been done and now he must face the consequences of his stupidity. He won’t run, and he won’t hide like a coward. Instead, after a deep vent, he simply resumes washing his plating bit by bit. He’ll have to wait this situation out.

It doesn’t take very long before he hears someone’s distant approach. Its quiet and focused, but spark wrenchingly familiar. He doesn’t turn from his work as the footfalls become closer.

“Ah. So he sent you. I can’t say that I’m surprised."