Tarn and the very bad no good terrible week

[sparkwhisperer]

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.

Comments

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn pats Drift on the cheek "Good." He runs his thumb over the now chipped and scratched Autobrand on Drifts chest, contemplating his next move.

"I need you to deliver this exact message, do you understand? I want you to look him in the eyes as you say it too."

Tarn wraps his fingers around the brand, finding a corner and ripping it free from Drift's chest and tossing it into the dirt, leaving a startlingly empty spot on his chassis. It wont stay that way for long, however. Grabbing a sharp peice of Drift's own broken plating he sets to work, dictating his message as he goes.

"You tell him in exact detail everything that I've done to you today. You tell him that this is his fault. That he can't protect all of his precious crew. I will work my way methodologically through every one of you pathetic mechanisms that O come across until there are none left. Until its just him and I." Tarns voice stabs into Drifts spark with every word. As if he is physically carving them into it for him to remember for the future. "You tell him that I will be waiting. If he decides that he is brave enough to face me one on one. I will have this settled."

Sitting back he admires his handiwork. A sluggishly bleeding, perfectly drawn Decepticon brand standing out against the white.

"You tell him how proud you are to wear his brand."

[auramatic]

Drift's never felt so beaten down in his life, not like this. Even years and years and years ago back in Rodion, when he'd been nothing but gutter trash, it had never been so personal. Every one of Tarn's words burns itself into his spark, deeper and deeper, but none of it hurts as much as the sting when Tarn rips off his Autobrand, watching Tarn toss the mangled badge away out of the corner of his eye, and he lets out another rush of helpless static.

Drift can't see it, but he knows what Tarn's done. He can feel it, etched into his plating, a ghostly ache in his spark casing. If Drift could move his hands, he'd scratch it out, cover it or break off his chestplate and replace it with something new, because he discarded that symbol long ago.

But he can't move, not any more. Energon leaks from dozens of wounds, some in uneven drips and some in slowly forming pools on the ground around him. Drift struggles, straining, desperately urging his circuits to carry out the commands of his brain, but all he can manage is disjointed twitching, his head lolling to the side as his optic finally flickers out.