robothell | the shit train just keeps rolling

Ratchet shifts warily as Tarn pushes up, putting himself firmly between Tarn and the other medics. His optics are still bright and intent as his chin jerks up, glaring defiantly up at Tarn.

"Go on, before I change my mind and call Megatron. Or Sixshot. I wonder what he'd think of you now."

The mention of Sixshot has Tarn backing toward the door. He wont have the Phase Sixer see him like this. Anyone else he might be able to handle, but not his old lover. He's seen enough pity and disappointment in his optics to last a lifetime. No, having Sixshot see him this way is unacceptable. Especially when he has no words to defend himself.

With a short weak glare, completely uncharacteristic to Tarn, he turns and makes a hasty retreat; leaving Ratchet and Ambulon with a destroyed medibay. He has what he needs and slowly begins his trek out of the city with his hand wrapped around his throat in an attempt to stanch the bleeding.

Ratchet glares at Tarn's back until he's sure Tarn isn't going to come storming back in before he whirls around to take in the destruction of the medibay, and Ambulon and First Aid.

"Are you two all right?" he demands, hobbling over towards Ambulon, the first threads of panic tightening his voice now. "Did anything hit you, are you okay?"

Ambulon’s eyes are like saucers. He’s pressed up against the wall, as far from Tarn as he could get without leaving First Aid behind in his terror. As Ratchet turns to make his way back to them, Ambulon is snapped from his trance.

“f-fine…” he clears static from his throat “I’m fine. We’re ok.”

He shakes his helm slightly, trying to snap himself out of the horror gripping his mind. He’s gone. Tarn is gone. He’s still alive. He stares very levelly at Ratchet.

“I can’t believe you just did that."

"I didn't have a whole lot of choice," Ratchet says, his voice still sharp before he comes within arm's reach of Ambulon and leans into one crutch to close a hand on his shoulder and squeeze hard, his vents stuttering a little.

"I thought he was going to go after you, or First Aid again. Scared the hell out of me."

“Ratchet…You just beat up the leader of the DJD…”

Ambulon hasn’t quite snapped out of his panic induced daze quite yet. In fact the squeeze of a hand on his shoulder barely rouses him. To be honest the minute Tarn stepped through the medibay doors, Ambulon was already saying his prayers. He didn't think that there was any way around his inevitable gruesome demise.

Only to be saved by Ratchet, crutches and all. He can’t believe the ball bearings that it must take to look that hulking giant in the eye and think ‘yes, I am going to fight that’.

“That was…incredible.”

"I--what? No." Ratchet balks a little, huffing warm air out of his vents. "The leader of the DJD, who was already injured, stormed in here and made a bunch of stupid mistakes, all right? I was lucky he didn't twist my head off."

On second thought, that's probably not the best thing to say to calm Ambulon down. Ratchet shakes his head, trying to center himself again, feeling quite off-balance.

"I didn't do it to be 'incredible,' or whatever, all right? I just didn't particularly feel like dying this afternoon." He nudges Ambulon a little. "We still have work to do."

Ambulons frown deepens at the 'head twisting’ comment and his fuel pump does a weird flip. It’s a very graphic image; he’s seen mechs with their heads torn open and twisted off. The DJD’s handiwork is rather recognizable. Ratchet can say what he likes but he just gained some major points in Ambulon’s book.

He nods as Ratchet nudges him.

“Yeah…yeah, sorry, it’s just… I’ve never actually seen him. I’ve heard plenty of stories, i’ve seen the aftermath of his work, but actually seeing him…”

Ambulon shakes his helm looking down at First Aid’s unconscious frame. He certainly wasn’t so lucky.

"Hey--hey." Ratchet reaches out impulsively, getting a better grip on Ambulon's shoulder and tugs, but the memory of the terrified look in his optics is hard to shake even as Ratchet pulls him in and wraps an arm around his back.

"We're all right. You're all right. So's First Aid. You stayed with him--you did good. We're okay."

"I'm on his list, Ratchet. It's only a matter of time." His tone isn't full of terror like one may expect. No, instead its even, and dull, and resigned. He came to terms with this long ago; right after he left the Decepticons.

He doesn't move from Ratchet's comforting hold, instead he slumps, resting his forehead against his shoulder.

"He'll be back for me."

"He's going to have better things to worry about if I've got anything to say about it," Ratchet says darkly, before he swallows and drops his head to Ambulon's shoulder. "And I'm not--nobody's going to let that happen to you. It's--"

Ratchet takes a slow, shaking vent of air, the last of the adrenaline wearing off, and suddenly he's painfully aware of the spray of energon on his plating, of every scrape and dent and small injury he sustained in the scuffle, of the huge mess all over the medibay. He draws up a little, wobbling on his crutches, and shifts to sit down hard on the nearest stool, struggling for control.

"Sorry. Sorry, just--one sec." He flips his comm open.

"Ironhide?"

"Yeah?"

He answers it... embarrassingly fast. Then again, he wasn't doing much else at the moment, other than making sure Optimus didn't fall into a hole or something. Being a bodyguard. That sort of thing.

Which left a lot of time for pouncing on his comm when Important People -- see: Ratchet -- called him up.

"You don't sound so hot. Everything okay?"

"Yes. Well. Nothing that is an immediate emergency but--"

Ratchet's vocalizer shorts a little and he hesitates, but he can't just tell Ironhide not to worry about it now, that'll just make things worse.

"Could you come to the medibay, please?"

"... well, that ain't concerning or anything."

He's going to worry. No matter what Ratchet says. He's going to worry. But he'll also get moving. Even before the word "please" is fully finished.

"On my way. Sit tight, okay?"

"Yeah. I--"

Ratchet's voice wavers and he cuts himself off for a moment, his jaw tightening hard.

"...yeah."

"I'm comin'. Okay?"

Now he's really concerned. And transforming to move as quickly as a big, heavy guy like him is able to. Something has the other bot rattled. Maybe... more than rattled.

"Promise. Gonna be there in a minute."

"Okay. Okay."

Ratchet cuts the comm and just sits, watching Amublon check First Aid over and surveying the total wreck Tarn made of the medical bay, wincing slightly at the light spray of energon on one of the walls, courtesy of his scalpel and Tarn's neck. Maybe he can tell Ironhide they've been redecorating.

It really isn't long before he shows up. A spray of gravel as he slams on the brakes, heavy tread a little too fast for normal strides. The door slams open. Yes, okay, he could have handled this better, but he's worried. Which... doesn't get any better at the sight of the place.

Or the mess on the wall.

And that's why, heedless of anyone else in the room, he makes quick strides to the one who called him, and just...

Grabs him.

Sorry, Ratchet, you're getting a crushing hug right now. Care of your embarrassing bara friend.

"Oof--" Ratchet manages as Ironhide scoops him up and drags him into a crushing hug, shuddering against Ironhide's broader chassis for a minute before he slumps a little, just letting himself dangle in Ironhide's grip.

"M'all right," he says with difficulty, his face mashed into Ironhide's massive shoulder. "M'fine. S'okay. We're all okay."

Sure, he hears Ratchet's voice. And the reassurance is welcome. But at the same time, he doesn't quiet let go just yet. Right. Everything's fine. Sort of...

"Whose is that?"

He jerks his head toward the wall without elaborating. He feels he doesn't need to. And it's then he realizes Ratchet said "we", and not just "me". And slowly levers the medic down to the ground.

"Sorry, I... Got a little concerned there..."

Yeah, he's not letting go quite yet.

"Tarn's," Ratchet says, his ventilations still a hair unsteady. "He came back here half out of his mind looking to pick a fight. I kind of had to give him one." He shakes his head, rubbing the palm not covered in energon up to his wrist roughly over his face. "He grabbed me and pulled too close and I got him in the throat. He won't be talking anybody to death for a while and he left after that, cut his losses."

He looks around at the medibay helplessly, trying not to lean into Ironhide's hands on his arms, or press his face to Ironhide's shoulder again, or do anything else embarrassing. He shivers a little with the effort.

"I figured we could use a little backup, just in case," he says, his mouth crooking in a weak half-smile as he manages to look up at Ironhide's face. "And some help cleaning up, since Tarn's gone and half-wrecked the place again and I'm next to useless picking stuff up. And--" He stops, bereft of other excuses for him calling Ironhide here in a panic before he feels suddenly and extremely foolish for even needing them in the first place. He swallows, words sticking thick in his throat, surprisingly difficult to say.

"And I wanted to see you," he says simply, but he leans in against Ironhide again and his helm clanks gently to the flat plate of Ironhide's shoulder, his shoulders slumping in.

"Who is that? Where did he head off to?"

He feels like he should know the name, but there's nothing in his memory to match up to it. The words come out angrier than he means them to. Tenser. Like he's spoiling for a fight, now that he knows some new threat popped up to try and mangle something of his. Er -- something he wants to protect.

"You got it," he says, and he means it, with everything he's got. Ratchet might not get a choice in whether or not to lean on him, because he's pulled him even closer again, while his optics flick around to all the destruction.

Looks like he's got a new place to stay for a while.

"All of it. I'm not goin' anywhere, all right?" One big arm drapes across Ratchet's shoulders, keeping him where he's leaning. "I got you."

Ratchet chokes down the impulse to wriggle away, to tell Ironhide he's fine, to try to get back to work--he shudders with it against Ironhide's broad heat before he lets it go, letting himself rest against Ironhide a little harder. He is all right, really, but... this is nice.

"Thanks," Ratchet says, a little belatedly, then shakes his head a bit. "Tarn. Head of the Decepticon Justice Division. He's just bad news, but I don't think we'll be hearing from him anymore for quite a while. Not half because he can't talk now, I guess."

"They give him a long enough name? I'm callin' him Torn. Easier to say."

And a terrible joke. He's not sure if it will have the intended effect, but hey. He tried.

"... What's he look like, anyway? Aside from the missing chunk out of his neck."

As he asks, he lets his hand gently smooth across the other bot's plating. He's never really known Ratchet to be rattled like this. So whoever this idiot is -- or was -- he's got to be more than just 'bad news'. More reason to look into it himself.

"I'm not telling you so you can go after him," Ratchet says firmly, though he can't help leaning into the slow stroke of Ironhide's hands against dented plating. "Megatron already damaged one knee badly, which is the reason that fight went the way it did, but I took care of it. I want you to stay out of his way unless he comes back here--don't go borrowing trouble. We have more than enough of it."

the shit train just keeps rolling

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)