robothell | (no subject)

Who: Brainstorm, Tarn, and guest star Spinister
Where: Brainstorm's workshop
When: After Tarn discovers their liasons
What: MAKE ME A WEAPON
Warnings: Anxiety

For spur of the moment fragging, Brainstorm had to pat himself on the back for a job well done with clean up. Spinister had made sure his joints were oiled and his paint was fresh. He still had ached like he'd gotten punched in the valve rather than fragged in it, but overall he was fairly pleased with the events.

There was still the fact he didn't have to hang out with a sociopath and Spinister did, so he hopes that after they had triple checked over the mech's frame for any missed transfluid splatters or paint flecks the mech had done it another three more times because he was fairly comfortable with Tarn having no motivation to take a visit to him.

The bow had been set in storage with the rest of his finished weapons, while he'd set to work on something new, first drawing up concepts and taking stock of the material he had to work with. He was running a bit low on nucleon, which meant that he was going to either have to convince Spinister to get more for him or go and do the dirty mining work himself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ignoring Brainstorm’s comments, Tarn focuses his attention solely on Spinister when he doesn’t immediately let go.

“I’m not trying to kill him, I’m trying to have a conversation with him! Don’t make me press the issue.” He snaps irritably.

Tarn doesn’t let go even as Spinister starts tugging. What does he possibly think he can gain? Tarn is clearly stronger and his grip is like an iron vice around Brainstorm’s ankle.

“Stop pulling. I’m not letting go and you’re going to make me hurt him.

"That- okay, for once, I actually believe you having a conversation with someone isn't going to murderize them," Spinister admits, frowning unhappily. "But I'm not letting go either!"

He re-fluffs his armor and spins his rotor blade, although at least he's stopped pulling. There's a long moment of internal struggle followed by an unhappy engine growl and then...

".... What're you guys talking about."

Suspicious squinting.

With an perturbed huff, Tarn stops pulling on Brainstorm’s leg.

“Yes, of course. That would be a waste of perfectly good talent; especially talent that is ready and willing to help. And the term is murdering, Spinister, not murderizing.”

Easing his grip slightly in a show of good faith, Tarn cocks his head

“Your gifted lover, here, had just agreed to build me a gun. With that cannibalistic beastformer on the prowl, I though a bit of protection might be in order, wouldn’t you agree?"

It was absolutely ridiculous, but the praise makes Brainstorm fluff a little, preening like a peacock at being called gifted. He is, after all, a brilliant genius and more people should acknowledge that.

Still, he was suspended in air between the two mech's grip and he'd rather the circumstances be different.

"We're not lovers. Not really!" Of all the things to protest, he picks that. Lovers typically entailed more than mindless fragging right?

At that point, Brainstorm also realizes he has Tarn under his thumb in this regard. "Wait! Second stipulation. No killing any Autobots with my stuff, okay?"

When Tarn lets go, Spinister abruptly gathers Brainstorm up and closer to his chest before sitting down, cross-legged, and making noises of great discontentment.

"Well, it'd be nice not to have to keep replacing your fingers," Spin admits. He doesn't seem to be particularly bothered by the fact that Tarn called them 'lovers': it's not TRUE, per say, but he's not going to be the one to sit down and talk to Tarn about which kind of relationship they're in. The afthead thought he was banging Sixshot for some blinking reason.

"You're making a gun for Tarn," he points out to Brainstorm instead. "Even if he's not killing them, there's going to be some 'Bots who might try and off him. We don't even know if the beasty guy is an Autobot or not."

Ignoring the melodramatic glaring and mumbling with a subtle eye roll, Tarn only nods along with what Spinister is saying.

“Exactly so. Although he doesn’t wear a badge, I am still unsure of his affiliation.” Agreement? With Spinister? What is this witchcraft. “But I will promise you this: so long as they don’t pursue me, I will refrain from using the weapon against any Autobots. However, the minute they overstep their bounds I will have no choice but to protect myself.”

Tarn holds his hand out to Brainstorm for a gentleman’s agreement

“Do we have a deal?"

Despite being bundled up into Spinister's arms, Brainstorm doesn't exactly feel any safer. In fact, that point just makes him shrink further down and drag his fingers down his face.

"They're going to find out it was me who built it, you know. They've been looking for reasons to arrest me! Somehow Rodimus found out I'm a Decepticon."

There's not much to be done though. Slowly he reaches out, and gives a very shaky grip on Tarn's hand.

"Not everyone is an Autobot or Decepticon, Tarn. There's plenty of neutrals since the war ended."

Tarn reaching out to shake Brainstorm's hand earns the purple mech a low, warning rumble. Fortunately, Spinister resists the urge to bat the hand aside, although he keep glaring at it like the hand was made of needles.

"If you go out and you actually start a fight with anyone before the wounds you have are healed up, I'm not fixing you again."

That's about the end of his input on that matter.

“Ideally it won’t come to that. It isn’t as if i’m going to be flashing this at every mech I see, only those who I have no other choice but to fight. And, if you do the job correctly, they’ll never live to tell.” Tarn’s hand almost entirely encompasses Brainstorms as he gives it a firm shake.

Spinister’s disapproval of the new alliance rolls off of him in waves. Tarn gives him the smuggest look he can manage with his face covered with the roughed up metal of his mask.

“I’ll be back later this week with a portion of your Nucleon and to check on design progress. Is there anything else you need from me?"