robothell | (no subject)

Who: Tarn and Megatron
Where: in the city :T
When: sometime
What: Tarn gets caught exactly where he should not be.
Warnings: threats of violence. possibly actual violence.

It’s been a hectic day. It all began when he was rudely awoken by Spinister kicking him in the face, shouting about the energon refinery having sprung a leak. With his tanks almost empty and roughly 80% of their acquired energon spilt into the dust, both Tarn and Spinister are touchy to say the least, leaving tensions running high.

Tarn needed to get out and clear his head; to be alone for more than a few minutes at a time. The buddy system has it purpose, and Tarn would never disagree, but being attached to Spinister every waking moment of every day has begun to grate on him. Seriously, who kicks someone in the face to wake them up? Walking aimlessly, he is itching to transform, but the metal contraption welded to his leg has effectively locked him out of his alt mode. Tarn can't transform without wrecking the brace and risk ruining his knee beyond Spinister’s repair. Trying to walk it off, the ex-DJD Commander makes an attempt to distract himself and somehow ignore the minute twitch in his t-cog that throbs with every step.

It only makes him more moody.

Tarn is far enough from the center of the city that he’s let his guard down the slightest bit, not expecting any unfortunate encounters with the local inhabitants. What reason would anyone have to be out this far? His only concern is Rampage, but to be honest, he has just as much of a chance of stumbling into him in the wastes as he does in the city.

He already feels himself beginning to calm just by getting some alone time. A lap around the outskirts should be plenty time to fully cooled down. That’s all it will take.

Lost in his own thoughts, and distracted by growing hunger, Tarn may have ventured into dangerous territory.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

“I’ve always been loyal to those I choose to serve.” the statement is quiet, but clear. Though Megatron has cast him away and forsaken him to a pit…Tarn still finds himself unable to let go. He’s tried so hard to leave his hopes for the young miner behind, locking them tightly in a box out of sight. But, even now, after all he's been through, the thought of Megatron’s approval has his spark swelling uncontrollably with pride.

Tarn finally tears his gaze away, realizing that he was staring for perhaps too long. Clearing a buzz of static from his throat, he glances down at his chest. Fortunately, there is not even a scratch in his paint. The only evidence of the threat being a tiny indent right against his center seam, slightly below his adopted badge. Straightening himself from his slump Tarn assumes a more dignified position in the dirt, before attempting to raise himself into a standing position. It’s a bit of a struggle as always with the stiff brace. Alone he’s able to ignore the shame, but with Megatron staring right at him with appraising optics it makes him burn with humiliation. He must appear strong. He has to earn his respect.

“If it means rusting in the wastes, then so be it."

Megatron's gaze had lost some of it's aggressive fire as Tarn struggles to stand to his feet. As much as he despised what Tarn did and stood for, seeing an injured mech try to stand proud was a little too close to the day to day deep within Nova Point. Even someone as monstrous as Tarn.

He reaches for a canister stored within his armor. It was beaten to all hell, clearly picked from the ruins of the city. Megatron hands it to the ex-Decepticon. It was heavy, and a little jostle of the canister would reveal it was filled with a viscous fluid.

Energon. High quality and immaculately refined by their outpost.

"You'll need this."

Tarn steadies himself on his feet, shifting to alleviate some of the pressure on his joint. His optics dim and he purposefully looks up at Megatron, just in time for the cask thrust into his field of vision.

The ex-‘Con stares at the canister with wide optics. His hands twitch, curling into fists at his side. He can hear the dull slosh of fluid inside, taunting the hungry mech. Tarn wants so badly to disagree, to tell Megatron that he’s wrong that he doesn’t need his help, or pity. He wants to prove to his old leader that he’s still strong. But he can’t.

Slowly he reaches his hands out to take the offering from Megatron. They need the energon too much for Tarn to refuse it. His pride will recover.

“Thank you."

Megatron rests his weapon on the ground, by the side of his boot. With an injured leg, it wasn't like Tarn could make any rapid movements without heavy retaliation. He approaches and rests his hands on the dirtied treads of Tarn's shoulder.

"What you've done cannot be easily forgiven, but I will leave you with this offer."

He gives the metal flask a glance before meeting Tarn's optics.

"Assist me in protecting the cause against the parasites lurking for the shadows, waiting for opportunity to upend what I've began here, and I will begin to reconsider your exile."

He looks down at the badge on Tarn's chest.

"And perhaps return something of yours that I've held on to for some time."

Spark flipping in his chest, Tarn’s gaze flicks briefly to the hand on his shoulder. It bring him back to simpler times. Times where they had each other’s complete trust. Still, Tarn can’t back down now. Has to stick to his word.

"Megatron… I’ve given you my answer.” His voice is steady, despite the occasional crackle of static.

“But, know that I will never condone acts against the ideals of The Cause.” He stares up into Megatron’s optics, straightening proudly and clutching the energon to his chest. "Should the situation arise I will alert you of any misdeeds. While I am loyal to my allies, I am first and foremost loyal to the Cause. If they conflict I will always side with with the Decepticon doctrine. You have my word.”

Having his exile lifted, being allowed back into the Decepticons, getting his own badge back…He had all but given up hope. It was a pipe dream, held together only by his last threads of foolish optimism. To have it offered? It makes Tarn almost willing to do anything.