The problem with intimidating Rodimus is this: it just doesn't work. Sure, spring a Megatron straight from the Grid on him when he's supposed to be dead and he'll hold the Matrix up like it'll save his life any day. But his gut instinct is to fight back, don't back down. Which is currently biting him in the ass. He knows what Tarn's voice is capable of - Drift had told him of that much - but he didn't think it would hurt so much. Common sense would dictate backing down, save the fight for another day. But when has anyone accused him of having a lick of common sense?

For a moment all he can see is white as the pain in his spark and his shoulder combine, and it's through sheer force of will that keeps on his feet - expelling air from his system in a pained grunt. That's something, he supposes, even though he's not sure how long that's going to last.

"Joke's on you, Tarn," he manages to force out through clenched teeth. "We're all still alive and well, Drift too." He doesn't know that for sure, but he's not letting Tarn win this. His face twists in pain, one of his hands reaching up to grab at Tarn's while he levels the other at Tarn's neck - the end of the exaust pipes glowing slightly. "I'm more than happy to send you on your way, though."

Oh right, Megatron said something. Not that Rodimus cares at the moment since he's busy. You know, with Tarn.

"Differences? Trailcutter's dead because of him and you want me to just forget about it?"

Fuck you, Megatron.