robothell | Trashcan vs. Trashcan

Trashcan vs. Trashcan

Who: Tarn and Rampage
What: Rampage is pretty sure Tarn's life isn't shitty enough.
When: After Tarn's banishment.
Where: The boonies
Warnings: Two horrible murderbots for the price of one thread.

Rampage has unfinished business with Tarn. Now the the immediate rage of Tarn's attempted murder has faded, he's not certain what form the business is going to take, but he did tell Tarn that there was nowhere he could hide, and as such he's determined to pay the now banished mech a visit.

He wasn't lying about Tarn being unable to hide from him, either. Rampage isn't certain just how sensitive his spark is, but there's certainly nowhere any Cybertronian can go on this planet that's too far for him to sense them. So into the wasteland he goes, trundling over the terrain in beast mode, many legs devouring the miles between him and the ripple against his spark he knows to be Tarn.

When he gets close enough for Tarn to hear, he calls out, "Come out, come out, wherever you are, unless you're too frightened to face me!"

Does he still welcome the challenge?

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The shove knocks Rampage back, but he grabs Tarn's arms as he stumbles and turns, dragging the ex-Con with him. He grips him tight, tight enough to dent, but not enough to break, and tries to push him down to the ground, bearing down with his own considerable weight.

"Such pain," he hisses, his optics bright with delight. The miserable mix of emotion and rage is intoxicating, and he can feel his spark pulsing with it, drinking in the sweet pain. Oh how he missed this, pulling the dark emotions out of others and making them hurt as much as he did.

Why did he ever give it up?

Because of Transmutate, he reminds himself, a cold dose of sobriety to temper his excitement.

But it was alright. He wasn't going to kill Tarn. And as far as he was concerned, Tarn was an acceptable target. Who was going to care if Rampage hurt his feelings?

"How does it feel," he asks, trying to further exploit the sore spot Sixshot seems to be, "Knowing that you'll never touch him again? Never feel his warm plating against yours? Never feel his body moving against yours? How does it feel knowing that you'll never have Sixshot again, while he can have him whenever he wants?"

Tarn goes down easily the minute that pressure is put on his injured leg. A yelp of pain is covered by a sharp crack of static from his maimed vocalizer. As Rampage bears down upon him, Tarn begins to thrash in an attempt to free himself from the pinning weight of his opponent.

The taunting words hit their mark as Tarn's processor spins, plagued with images of his lover’s disappointed and furious gaze. And, for the first time since his banishment, he realizes that Rampage is right. The thought that he may never be with Sixshot again tears viciously at his spark, robbing him of his strength. As he stops struggling against Rampage, his helm falls back against the ground with a dull clang; consumed entirely with crippling sorrow.

First Aid had won, after all.

Rampage refuses to let himself be tossed off, forcing Tarn's wrists to the ground and straddling him. His horns curl with the unique sort of sadistic ecstasy that comes with another's utter despair.

"That's it. Give in to your pain. It's all you have left now." His voice is almost tender now, soft and soothing. His grip on one of Tarn's arms loosens, slides up his wrist to lace thick fingers between Tarn's. "He'll never forgive you, and it's all your fault. You've ruined everything."

It's euphoric, feeling another fall so low. Addictive. His spark buzzes with the emotions and it's a feeling not unlike being drunk.

"You should have known it wouldn't turn out well. Angered murdered rarely does."

He tugs Tarn's hand up, lowering his head to nuzzle at his fingertips. Surely a little nibble couldn't hurt?

Tarn turns his face away as Rampage leans closer. The almost affectionate contact makes him uncomfortable, and he feels utterly humiliated and trapped as his heart breaks in front of his enemy. He’s pathetic. His fingers try to twitch out of Rampage’s grip, but the laced digits hold him fast.

“wasn’t supos— to find—“ He wasn’t supposed to find out. No one was supposed to know beside himself, and Helex, when he eventually had the parts smelted down.

Tarns optics snap back to Rampage as his hand is lifted up to his face. The affectionate nuzzle has Tarn balking, and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s ripping his hand free and delivering a powerful slap to the toothy face hovering above him.

"Ha-ha!" Rampage laughs as Tarn's slap knocks his head to one side. "You've still got some fight in you!"

He grabs for Tarn's hand again, ready to grip tighter, his jagged mask splitting down the center to bare his teeth. He wants a taste of sweet metal, lovely energon, tangy hydraulic fluid... Just a bit, just a bit, just a fingertip-!

"He was always going to find out!" he crows. "There's nothing you could do to keep him from finding out!" His voice drops into almost a sing-song. "Oh, he knows, he knows, his nose knows..."

Wild laughter echoes around the pair as Rampage enjoys himself far too much.

The maniacal tone tinting Rampages voice puts Tarn on edge as he tries to pull his arm in and keep his hands close to his body. His sharp maw snapping so close to his fingertips certainly doesn’t help. Though the beastformer is still straddling him, he tries to curl onto his side and keep everything tucked in.

However, Rampage is heavy and he finds that it is easier said than done. Especially when he is weak from his injuries and low on fuel.

“Get off—"

Laughing louder, Rampage keeps a hold of Tarn's arm long enough to lunge forward and - snicketysnack just like that - neatly bite off the tip of his pinkie finger, right at the knuckle.

Ah, such a tiny morsel! He really wants more. To crack major fuel between his fingers and drink them dry. To set a fire in his frame and let the fluids pop and sizzle. Peel open his chest and pick out all his favorite treats until all that's left is his aching, beautiful, agonized spark-

But he can't, and he sighs sadly, shifting his weight up and away from Tarn, crouching back on his heels instead. Killing Tarn means his fun has to end, and he's hoping to keep this source of tasty emotions around for a very long time.

Tarn hisses and jerks as Rampage snaps off the tip of his finger; though it takes a moment for him to realize what has actually happened. When he does, his eyes go wide with shock, yanking his hand back and holding it to his chest protectively

“Y-You F—“ words are getting harder and harder to force out, and certainly the bewilderment isn’t helping.

He ate it. He didn’t just break it off, the fragger ate it. And here comes the tinge of fear that Rampage has been missing, just in time for Tarn to frantically start bucking and pushing at the beastformer as he sat back to enjoy his snack.

"Ho-ho!" Rampage laughs as Tarn squirms frantically away from him. He doesn't try to stop him, but nor does he move. Watching him wriggle in the dirt like a worm is great entertainment. And, ah!, that spark of fear, the finest seasoning for his meal.

"You what?" he asks jovial. "You freak? You monster?" He rests his chin on his hand as he watches Tarn, fingers tapping against his cheek. "You're only just noticing? You have quite a reputation of your own! I thought us monsters recognized our kind."

“You fragger!” Tarn bites out, frustrated by the downright jovial tone in Rampage’s voice. He wants to punch him in his smug face, but refuses to risk putting his fingers anywhere near that gaping maw ever again. After all, he has no idea if the mech intends to continue to snack on him.

Instead, Tarn continues to try to wiggle free of the legs straddling his hips. He just wish he knew what to do to get Rampage away; some way to strike back at the seemingly indestructible.

The only thing he can do is protect his most vital parts and hope for the best. He just needs keep the monster away from his t-cog. It's all he has left to soothe himself.

"So now we're name-calling, hmm?" Rampage leans forward, bracing a hand on either side of Tarn's head, weight slowly shifting onto his hands and knees and off of Tarn. "I see how it is. So eager to give pain, but so hesitant to receive it! How generous, of you. But please, won't you let me return the favour?"

He lunges forward, teeth and mask snapping audibly. He doesn't intend to actually take a bite, but it would fun if Tarn thought he was going to. If only he could wring some proper terror out of his lovely treat.

Tarn takes full advantage of the weight lifting from him, twisting more fiercely and shoving at Rampage with his knees. His injured joint throbs in protest to his actions, but Tarn is desperate as those jaws snap so close to his face and throat.

If Rampage is wanting fear, he gets it; despite the DJD Commander’s express wishes. It’s a brief, but strong, flare of emotion, accompanied by a staticky shout. He doesn't cower away, instead he fights savagely, fingers gouging at the beatformer's plating, drawing vivid energon. He's determined to at least leave a mark of his own.

"Oh, that tickles!" Rampage laughs as Tarn's fingers rake his plating. As fast as the energon spills out, the torn metal seals itself again, leaving nothing but a bright stain to show that it was there.

The scent of energon, even his own, makes the hunger blossom stronger in him. He wants more. More pain, more fear, more energon...

His self-control is slipping. If he stays much longer he'll regret it. After all, if he eats all his cake now how can he have it later?

Pressing his weight back down on Tarn - and he can feel that knee twinging - he grabs Tarn's face with both hands, holding him in place long enough to lean in nuzzle him.

"I won't kill you today," he says softly, oddly affectionately, "but some day I'm going to devour you alive."

Tarn grunts in pain as Rampage's weight is put back on his knee. It twinges and creaks in protest against any further exertion, leaving him weak. Frustration grips him as every wound that he leaves behind heals almost immediately making it impossible to inflict lasting damage. How jealous Tarn is.

He stills completely as the mech grabs his helm, preventing him from turning away. He stiffens even further as Rampage nuzzles at him affectionately, steeling himself for pain that never comes.

Despite the fear gripping him, Tarn fights to keep it from his voice
,
"We will see." He growls lowly, glaring fiercely up at his attacker.

"We will," Rampage agrees with a deep chuckle. His mandibles squirm as he pulls back, and he's so very tempted to take a bite out of Tarn's mask but... he moves away, climbing slowly to his feet. His spark is singing with Tarn's fear, and it's as good a place to end this tryst as any.

As he turns to walk away, leaving Tarn to deal with himself however he pleases, he can't help but offer one last parting shot.

"You know, I'm fucking Sixshot, too."

Tarn waits for Rampage to stand fully before beginning to drag himself a safe distance away, gathering to his own shaky legs. He clutches his throbbing, injured hand to his chest, taking a few more steps back to put extra distance between them.

“Send him my regards.” Tarn growls, refusing to turn his back to Rampage even as he watches the beastformer start to walk away.

Rampage is just going to laugh all the way home. Not that he actually has a home. Whatever.

He'll see Tarn again. He's not sure when, but he'll definitely be back for a second serving.

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Trashcan vs. Trashcan

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