Tarn, blocks with his forearm, the scalpel cutting right into the plating. His hand tightens further on the medic's wrist

"My, you fight dirty, Ratchet."

With a sweeping kick he knocks Ratchet's legs out from beneath him, pinning the medic on his back with his weight. Tarn grabs hold of one of his hands, increasing the pressure of his grip slowly.

"Unfortunately so can I. Perhaps I should return these to Pharma. I'm sure he is missing them."