robothell | (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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Partnership isn't dependence and compromise isn't weakness," Sixshot draws his hand back, spark achingly heavy. "If you really wanted strength and self sufficiency, you would concert your efforts with the rest of ours and present the Autobots with a united front. You acted as a rogue agent instead."

He stands there for a long moment, expression unreadable and half hidden behind the hand he'd covered his face with.

"... I don't really know why I'm trying anymore." The Sixer's voice drops to a whisper, static laden and exhausted. "You can't undo anything anyways."

Slipping his gun back into his inventory, he transforms once again into his wolf mode, shadow falling over his kneeling lover's form.

"Megatron is waiting. You can come with me or I can make you."

A sharp stab of anxiety hits Tarn at the mention of Megatron. He has no idea what his leader intends for him, but he knows it isn’t good. For the first time since this fiasco started, the idea of running crosses his mind. He could go someplace and wait for this all to blow over…

Tarn quickly tamps down the thought. Sixshot is far faster than he is and would surely catch him. It is better to face this with dignity than be dragged in like some common felon.

Sighing, Tarn looks up at Sixshot’s hovering form.

“Very well. What is to be done with me?”

"He didn't say," Sixshot says, turning to leave.

It was true. Megatron didn't say.

But Sixshot was Megatron's hound and no good hound didn't get by without learning to read their master's moods. This Megatron was young, but that just made it all the more obvious: where the older Megatron controlled and suppressed, the younger mech's fury roll off of his frame in tangible waves instead.

This was probably Tarn's last day.

Tarn pauses briefly, before getting up to follow several paces behind Sixshot. He’ll be receiving a verbal thrashing for certain; perhaps even a physical one. But, if Tarn has learned anything from his time here, it is that this Megatron is soft. He quickly manages to convince himself that he is in no danger that he can’t handle.

It shouldn’t be overly difficult to talk to miner’s rage down to a manageable level.