robothell | Tarn and the very bad no good terrible week

Entry tags:

ratchet | asafepairofhands

Tarn and the very bad no good terrible week

Who: Tarn and Drift and Tarn and You
Where: The city center
When: A few days after the Rodimus incident
What: Tarn has an unfortunate run in with some new friends
Warnings: Tarn. Violence to come

Tarn has had bad days before. Occasionally his latest victim would get a good punch in, perhaps they were particularly good at eluding himself and his team, or they managed to temporarily escape. Maybe the pet decided to gnaw on a particularly important set of data pads. Or Vos decided to poach parts from one of the cleaning drones. Again.

Any of that is a walk in the park compared to the viciously terrible week Tarn has had. So far he has been transported to an alternate Cybertron without his consent. He has been harassed by Autobots, burned, shot at, disrespected,; but really, the proverbial cherry on top of the whole mess, was the incident with Megatron. The founder of the Decepticons, the mech he has sacrificed his identity, his name, his very life to serving, turned traitorous. Betraying his own faction and trading his own badge for an Autobrand. Honestly, Tarn is having a difficult time even wrapping his mind around the whole thing. One thing is for certain though...he is angry and on the hunt for someone to take his aggression out on.

He has been prowling the city ruins for hours, stopping every few minutes to transform a few times, just to take the edge off. He can feel his T-cog grinding more and more with every transformation. He is familiar with the sensation and the knowledge that the cog probably wont last him the month only adds to his every growing ire.

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Tarn quickly turns around from his position, he recognizes the voice but not the younger tone. It isn't until he locks eyes on Megatron's younger self that some of the tension leaves his frame.

"Ah- yes, I'm fine. I have found a dwelling just outside the city to take shelter. I...don't think that at the moment it is wise for me to be around," He sighs slightly, reaching up to rub his neck,"people."

That's probably the kindest way to put being on a murderous rampage that he can think of.

Taking a few steps closer, he takes note of the new injuries in Tarn's armor, and distantly wonders if the sound he'd heard was related to it.

It doesn't seem fatal, in any case, but wandering around without any support at all didn't seem like a wise course of action.

"What happened?"

Tarn looks down at himself. His hand is scorched, one of the biolights on his chest is completely shattered and sporting a small entry wound, and his frame is littered with various scuffs and scrapes.

It's been a walk in the park, really.

"I had a run in with some Autobots." He explains, prodding a still leaking scrape on his arm.

"The war isn't finished for some of their forces, but staying isolated here isn't the wisest option."

Given their previous conversation regarding Autobots and his own recent brush with Sentinel, Megatron is inclined to give Tarn the benefit of the doubt and assume he didn't incite this run in - minor as it appeared to be.

"There's an Autobot doctor here, Ratchet, who assisted me without prejudice. You can ask him to look at your injuries."

Bad idea, Megatron. Really, really bad idea. Monumentally bad. Tarn knows Ratchet. In fact, to the best of his knowledge, he brutally murdered him alongside Drift not weeks before. He is sure the medic won't be pleased to see him. Surely, that isn't something that he can share with the young revolutionary though. Instead, he simply waves his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"I really don't think that to be the wisest course of action, Megatron. I'm fine, really."

The hesitance in not entirely unexpected - he'd been distrustful of going to the clinic without the history of war on the mind.

"Would you feel more comfortable if I were there with you?"

Tarn realizes he is not going to get out of this, and sighs. He will need to be repaired eventually anyway. Best to get it done sooner rather than later.

"Yes, perhaps that would be best. I'm afraid I don't have the best reputation among the Autobots." He begins walking toward Megatron to follow him as he leads the way. "War certainly has a tendency to push the boundaries of what one is capable of."

Yeah that's a diplomatic way to put it.

"Violence on that scale is effective in bringing out the worst in all its participants."

He doesn't doubt any of his Decepticon followers were responsible horrible things in the past. It was a path he was ready to take himself until recently. But he wanted believed there was more to them than that - and well, may have felt a little responsible for having helped cause it.

"Can you still transform?" The injuries looked relatively minor insofar, but he didn't want to exacerbate something that might not be obvious.

Tarn bows his head, a bit of an incredulous look in his eye. "Yes, of course. I am still completely functional." Ok, maybe not completely. To be honest. not being able to transform would drive Tarn into a complete frenzy. And he is starting to get antsy over the concept of his impending predicament.

Overcome by the urge, he transforms; t-cog audibly grinding and a deep ache spreads through his frame.

This is bad.

The tcog's whine sounds painful, though he holds back a grimace.

Megatron shifts alongside him, treads hugging the ground as black plating reassembles smoothly into place. He leads them back towards the clinic, at this point rather intimately familiar with its location in relation to the nearby area.

It wouldn't be long before the building would find itself approached by a duo of tanks.

Ratchet hears them approach even before he can see them out the cracked glass of the windows. He recognizes Megatron's alt mode as it roars into view, but the other one takes him a few moments.

When he does realize who it is--who it must be--he goes oddly still, the bottom dropping endlessly, nauseatingly from his tanks, his spark whirling. He doesn't move for a long moment, standing blessedly alone in the medibay, but when he can again a shuddering drag of air whines into his vents, cooling suddenly panic-heated systems, and he takes a moment to just stare down at his hands before he turns, going back to the cleaning he was doing before he'd looked out the window.

"No," he says when they walk in the door, not even looking up, his voice crisp and clear and his face oddly calm.

Tarn looks around the Medibay, silently evaluating as he stands quietly beside Megatron. He glares fiercely at the back of Ratchet's head when the medic so rudely brushes them aside. Honestly, though, Tarn expected no less of the Autobot Chief Medical Officer.

He looks at Megatron, giving him a shrug before turning to leave.

"As I expected."

When Megatron enters, he was certainly expecting one of many things - one being a loud earful from Ratchet about Tarn. The dead silence when he enters is new, and concerning, but it's far from successful at dissuading him.

He approaches the medic, taking note of his utterly new and different body language, but unsure what to make of it. His own stance is calm and familiar.

"Someone needs your help," Megatron reminds him, firmly, echoing what Ratchet had told him when they first met. He was still under the impression the doctor would assist anyone in need.

"No," Ratchet says again distinctly, and now he does put the tools down and look up at Megatron, his optics clear and cool.

"Not him. Bring me any other injured person here, Decepticon, Autobot, or otherwise, and I'll do what I can for them, but--not him. I won't have him in my medibay." Ratchet's optics narrow, his tone frigid now, though he doesn't look at Tarn. "He can curl up and rust, as far as I'm concerned. Get him the hell out of here."

Tarn remains a few paces back from where Megatron and Ratchet are talking, still half turned toward the exit. His eyes continue to blaze in fury at the Autobot's comments, but he remains silent in his rage, determined to remain on the moral high ground in his leader's eyes.

He can't help but to make a quip about his attitude, however.

"Yes, yes, I'm leaving- no need to be so impolite."

"No, you're not," he directs to Tarn, keeping his own expression level at Ratchet despite a little indignation entering his voice,"I understand you have every reason to despise your enemies, but personal preference shouldn't decide whether someone gets treatment."

Megatron rests his hands on the counter Ratchet was working on,"We have more than enough supplies to spare for him."

"Supplies aren't the issue, and I won't pretend they are." Ratchet cuts his optics at Tarn, finally, his lip curling back in vicious satisfaction. "Let me guess. Spot of t-cog trouble on top of all the injuries you managed to sustain trying to beat the hell out of my captain? Paint me scandalized."

He sweeps the tools he was cleaning into a drawer and slams it shut, anger mounting steadily.

"If my problem was that he's my enemy I'd just get over it and give him the care he needs. It's not. We'd all be better off if he dropped dead where he stood and left me to clean up the mess, and I'm not lifting a single finger to prevent that from happening." He looks down at them for a moment, faint chips of blue clear through the vivid red, at least to him. His tanks churn. "I can't, and I won't. Now get out."

Tarn stills upon Megatron's command. Ratchet’s comments needle at him, yes, but he remains stubbornly silent all the same.

The medic's anger is getting the best of him, Tarn can tell. This could prove to be more fascinating than he expected.

He begins approaching Megatron, glancing down at Ratchet with a smug satisfaction that just barely made it through the mask. He would come out on top of this one way or another. Either he receives treatment, or he gets kicked out- giving him a bit more ammo against the Autobots in his battle to prove his point to Megatron.

There's a look of concern that crosses his expression for the doctor. He didn't know why Ratchet was being so difficult about this, but it was obviously something very personal.

"I have made it very clear to Tarn that we will both be collaborating with Autobots from here on out. Whatever hate he holds for them will also be put aside.."

"Besides, your reasoning could be applied to me," he remarks, a little undirected bitterness seeping into his voice.

"We all know what lies in my future."

"I've treated you, when you've landed in my medibay. Not just here." Ratchet straightens, something too angry to be fear tightening at the corners of his mouth as he looks to Megatron and then up at Tarn, unflinching.

"You can collaborate with him all you like, though I wouldn't recommend it. I won't have anything to do with him, and he's not welcome here." His chin jerks up at Tarn, his optics bright and furious.

"These were Pharma's hands, and I'm not using them to fix you."

Edited 2015-01-27 01:03 (UTC)

Tarn stares, levelly, down at Ratchet.

"Then I assure you that they have repaired me more than once already."

Perhaps antagonizing the medic in front of Megatron is not the best course of action. But he certainly isn't lying-- Pharma replaced Tarn's transformation cog on multiple occasions.

"However, I am wondering how you came into possession of them. Surely, as a medic, you appreciate the importance of a medic's hands."

He's quiet as the two speak up, uncertain of what was being referred between them. It's getting clearer now that Tarn must have done something to a contemporary of Ratchet's. Probably executed him - or maybe kept him prisoner? It was a war, he was certain there was any number of awful things both sides did to each other.

It actually does beg the question why Ratchet would do something as morbid as take his hands, but there was no way to know without opening what was clearly a very big can of worms.

Megatron does give Tarn a harsh, cold look, not expecting the first words to come out of his masked mouth to be something to exacerbate this. It was difficult enough trying to convince Ratchet without anatagonizing him. His expression only slightly alleviates when returning to the doctor.

"I didn't leave Sentinel's cog with you so you can withhold it because of whatever past you two have had."

Ratchet's optics blaze white with fury and he actually takes a step forward before he stops himself, cool air catching in his fans as he struggles for composure.

"Pharma's dead," Ratchet spits, bare poison in his voice. "He was crazy, as you well know, and now he's dead because of it." He turns on Megatron, venting hard, his lips peeling back from his teeth.

"I took that t-cog from you for the express purpose of keeping it from him. I'm not installing it and I'm not giving it to him for someone else to install and this conversation is over. We'll discuss it further later."

At first, Tarn goes to withdraw from conversation with Ratchet upon Megatron's cold look. That is until he mentions Sentinels Transformation cog being on the premises. He cocks his head and, of course, does the logical thing and begins to look more closely around the Medibay for where it could possibly be hidden- ignoring Ratchet's furious gaze in favor of beginning to wander around a bit.

"Hm, a shame about Pharma, really. But his death was his own doing." Tarn pauses,turning to look Ratchet in the face. "I certainly didn't kill him. In fact, those hands of yours are rather incriminating. Perhaps it was your doing."

Ratchet's optics widen slowly, a kind of thick, choking rage numbing his brain and sending a faint crackling through his audials, soft white noise in his head for a long moment before he manages to draw in a shuddering vent of cool air.

"Pharma was one of the greatest surgeons and researchers we ever produced," he snarls, voice a little unsteady, "and he was my friend,, and you ruined him, and you murdered him, as surely as if you'd put a gun to his head. You aren't getting one single more t-cog from an Autobot medic, not if I can help it. We are done here."

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