Megatron (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aminerproblem) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
robothell2015-11-06 09:32 am
aminerproblem) wrote in robothell2015-11-06 09:32 am
Entry tags:
[video]
[It isn't often Megatron decides to post to the network, but the darkened expression presents quite a different air to initial plea for cooperation he'd posted sometime back.]
I've seen what we can do when we put our efforts together. We've built a home out of ruin, a meager spark of civilization on the graveyard of our predecessors.
But there are still threats to the existence we've carved here. Cybertronians who are stuck in the past and seek to inflict violence where none is needed.
[He steps back to allow a better view of the space around him.]
Tarn is bound on his knees on what could be identified as a slightly elevated platform in front of the Decepticon stronghold. Megatron wanted to be sure whoever was nearby would see what was about to undergo. Even if he didn't particularly plan on broadcasting the entire grisly execution over the network, it was clear enough what was about to occur here.]
[He steps to the ex-Decepticon's side, the red-hot edge of a makeshift (but oddly well-crafted) blade hovering next to his mask.]
I'm sure you're all aware of Tarn. He has taken it upon himself to torture our allies to the point of near death, something he seems particularly fond of doing. He's broken the pact he's made with our faction, and sought to destroy the peace we've built on this planet numerous times.
He has been given many chances to redeem himself, but squandered them in favor of engorging on his own thirst for blood. He will be punished accordingly as fitting of his crime. Let us hope this will not be necessary again.
[And from there the video goes to black, though it doesn't click off completely. He'll be letting Sixshot deal with whatever responses people feel the need to send. He was never one to completely close off all ties.]
I've seen what we can do when we put our efforts together. We've built a home out of ruin, a meager spark of civilization on the graveyard of our predecessors.
But there are still threats to the existence we've carved here. Cybertronians who are stuck in the past and seek to inflict violence where none is needed.
[He steps back to allow a better view of the space around him.]
Tarn is bound on his knees on what could be identified as a slightly elevated platform in front of the Decepticon stronghold. Megatron wanted to be sure whoever was nearby would see what was about to undergo. Even if he didn't particularly plan on broadcasting the entire grisly execution over the network, it was clear enough what was about to occur here.]
[He steps to the ex-Decepticon's side, the red-hot edge of a makeshift (but oddly well-crafted) blade hovering next to his mask.]
I'm sure you're all aware of Tarn. He has taken it upon himself to torture our allies to the point of near death, something he seems particularly fond of doing. He's broken the pact he's made with our faction, and sought to destroy the peace we've built on this planet numerous times.
He has been given many chances to redeem himself, but squandered them in favor of engorging on his own thirst for blood. He will be punished accordingly as fitting of his crime. Let us hope this will not be necessary again.
[And from there the video goes to black, though it doesn't click off completely. He'll be letting Sixshot deal with whatever responses people feel the need to send. He was never one to completely close off all ties.]
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[He finds his face wrinkle with distaste. He was tired of being told what he should and shouldn't do. Tired of having his choice taken from him - even if it's the wrong one. For the first time since they'd first met, he was tired of receiving the same lecture about his terrible future, ignoring what he'd said altogether. He's finding pure words are having far less of an effect the longer he stays here. Well, if words weren't working, then he needed to act.]
[His voice is a dangerously thin calm:]
Sixshot, be quiet.
[He steps in front of Tarn and seizes a grip on the axe, with Ratchet's hand and all. He doesn't pull it away, but he does push it back up above the medic's head with ease.]
I've heard you, Ratchet. I know perfectly well what I'm doing. I know the consequences. And no, I'm not going to allow to you shoulder all the responsibility to protect me from whatever fate happened in your time.
I've listened to you because I trust you, now I need you to trust me to make my own choices.
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All right. [His voice is a little strange, but it's steady.] You're right. And I do. Trust you, I mean. I mean it, when I said I think that this is a very important decision to make. But I would let you in my medibay if I didn't trust your judgment. [His mouth tilts, lopsided and a little sad as he lets his hand slide away from the haft of the axe.]
It's your call.
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[His tanks churn with barely suppressed panic as Ratchets hand falls away from the axe. Of all the ways to die, Tarn would have never guessed that this would be his. He tries to scoot away from Megatron but ends up backing himself against Sixshot's legs.]
[He looks up at his old lover, Searching his optics for a moment before locking onto Megatron. If he is to die, he will do so without cowering.]
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[Unthinking, Sixshot falls to his knees behind his ex-lover and throws his arms protectively over Tarn's chest- over his spark.]
Please.
[He's never asked Megatron for anything, not his Lord and not this young mech before him, but this...]
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[His disappointed glare is all he needs to say to Sixshot, but no matter. He did not plan on fighting the Sixer over this. Grip tightening over the weapon, he raises it over his head...]
[And slams the point into Tarn's knee joint, digging the curved edge into the mechanisms like a hook and pulling back to tear off some of the armor and the mechanisms it was attached to. His voice begins to approach a familiar commanding tone, though not quite:]
Get the hell out of my sight, Tarn. If I see you anywhere in this city again, you'll be slaughtered without a moment's hesitation. Do you understand?
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[the moment that Megatron lowers the axe and it becomes clear that he is being spared, Tarn collapses back against Sixshot in relief. Very quickly that euphoric emotion begins to warp Into something terrible and ugly and confusing.]
[Tarn thrashes out of Sixshot's embrace, flopping to the ground where his hands finally come to his mangled knee, prodding at it and investigating the extent of the damage.]
I-- You--
[He's indignant and his emotions are wildly out of control, although he can't think of anything to actually say.]
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[He holds Tarn as the mech cries out in agony, watching the sight of the DJD commander's knee being shredded with morbid fascination. He holds Tarn when the mech slumps back against, him paradoxically relieved and confused and a little terrified.]
[It's not something he gets to reflect on for too long. Before Sixshot could say anything, Tarn thrashes out of his arms. Suddenly, the full weight of Ratchet's and Megatron's disappointed gazes hit him fully and he watches his ex flop around like an angry fish. Not even a moment of acknowledgement.]
[The Sixer looks down at the ground, bracing his weight on his hands, willing himself to disappear. When he finally finds it in himself to speak, his voice is small and quiet but edged with razor sharp ice.]
Leave.
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If he isn't out of the city within the hour, kill him.
[He's made made his decision. He was done. He now ignores Tarn entirely to face Ratchet. Having him there watching wasn't how he wanted this to play out. He knew he'd have to do less than savory things to continue having the Decepticons follow him, to maintain some sort of peace, but he was hoping to strike some sort of balance between the two extremes.]
[It was getting harder and harder to agree with that sentiment.]
[His face softens slightly.]
Can you make it back on your own? You look exhausted.
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[Ratchet waits until they're out of earshot to speak again, though he watches Megatron as they walk with an odd expression on his face, calculating and warm all at once.]
You were right, to tell me off, back there. It was your decision to make. And I'm proud of you, for whatever that's worth. [He shrugs into his crutches.] I don't expect it to be earth-shattering or whatever, but it's true.
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[He sounds more tired than anything, but follows Ratchet anyway. He doesn't see anything to be proud of.]
Tarn will most likely die out in the Wastes on his own, you know that? It's a death sentence either way.
[It was all the same in his mind. Slaying Tarn himself was just the quicker way, without miserably slipping away from energon starvation. It was almost the crueler fate of the two. Though perhaps that's more befitting of Tarn. When was the last time he ever offered someone mercy?]
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[Ratchet watches him for another moment, considering, and his voice is quiet when he speaks again.]
You scare the hell out of me sometimes, you know that? Not because you could bench-press three of me, or whatever, just-- [His vents heave in a soft sigh.] Its a hell of a thing you're trying to do here, and it's hard, and sometimes it means you're going to have to make decisions like that one where there's no good answer. But it was little things like that that made the worse things easier, necessary decisions that were made that let things get so bad. I know you know all this, but--look. [Ratchet appears to struggle with himself for a moment, trying to say what he really means.] A few months before I got here, if you put me in front of the Megatron I knew with a gun in my hand, I don't know if I would have hesitated to fire. Now, here, if things go wrong again... I honestly don't know if I could.
It scares me. [Frankly.] It scares the hell out of me. I'm getting too damn old to keep shooting at people I care about. But that's why I keep crawling up your tailpipe about it, not... because I don't trust you. And I'm proud of you because I know you're making the best decisions you can, even when I'm not giving you a hard time. They might not all be ones I agree with, but I think you're trying not to lose sight of why you're doing what you're doing. That counts for a lot, with me. It's what keeps me thinking that things might turn out all right.
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[Ratchet might even get a political treatise on the matter if given a day or two. But his question was earnest. He understands its all varying shades of gray... but it doesn't make him feel any better about the ordeal.]
Why does the method matter if they have the same outcome? Is there really a 'better' answer with this?
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I'm not a politician, or a scholar, or a lawyer, or a judge. I'm not in a position to debate legal theory, or the nature of punishment, or the efficacy of executions in deterring future crimes. I'm a medic. I was taught to do no harm, and after four million years in a shooting war I still believe in it, except for a few notable exceptions. If I'm not killing someone in a fight where they're trying to kill me, the only other real acceptable excuse I can come up with for ending a life is if there's nothing else I can do for them. If there's no chance for anything but suffering for them unless I help them in this way. I won't sit here and tell you I haven't been betrayed or angry or hateful or grieved enough to have been tempted before, but you came into my medibay a little while before I showed up here, crippled from the waist down, and I fixed you instead of shooting you in the head. Because that's my job, and it's what I believe in.
I don't know if Tarn can be fixed--I sure as hell know I can't fix him, whatever him being 'fixed' would even mean, though not torturing my friends anymore sounds like a really excellent start. But I don't know--I'm not a hundred percent sure--that there's nothing else that can be done for him. And even if I was, I know how hard going through with something like that can be. I didn't want that for you. [He shrugs a little into his crutches.] That's selfish of me, I guess, but there it is. I don't have a better answer for you than that.
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...Thank you. Whatever help Tarn needs is well beyond what I can provide him.
[He continues walking. He may not feel entirely comfortable with what he did, but he is glad they could talk about it. He looks at the ground ahead of him.]
Personally, I think you make a stellar debater when you want to be.
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[Ratchet shakes his head, but he's smiling a little.]
You asked. I just wanted to give you a proper answer.
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[Ratchet gets a gentle squeeze of the shoulder before he's let go. It's been a while since he's seen the old medic smile. Which makes him grin a little in turn.]