robothell | [ INTRO LOG ]

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[ INTRO LOG ]

You don't know how you got here. One minute you were walking, sleeping, maybe dead -- then you're here, your feet suddenly carrying you down an empty street. Where's here?

Any Cybertronian would recognize this as their home planet, Cybertron, but it's not a Cybertron they've ever known. It has all the familiar hallmarks, but none of the specifics -- the city isn't one anyone here could identify, and even at a glance it's obvious that no one's set foot on the planet's surface in hundreds of years. The city and its surrounding areas all bear the marks of devastating war, of dust and rust collected over centuries. With no one in sight -- right at first, anyway -- there's plenty to explore. In fact, if you start walking, you'll find that your feet may just carry you in one particular direction.

A) The crater.
On one edge of the city is a massive crater left by some wartime weapon that seems to have taken out a large chunk of the surrounding metropolitan area. At the center of the crater it's broken through the surface of the terrain to reveal what looks like it might be a promising energon deposit. There is some strange but native vegetation growing around the edges, too, that no Cybertronian would be able to identify -- small, metallic, brittle-looking sprouts that bear a curiously organic-looking fruit of some kind that doesn't look like it's intended for consumption by any natives of the planet. In one rocky nook of the crater, light catches on the surface of a pool of water, which seems strangely out of place on Cybertron. On closer inspection, it seems that somehow an underground water source has formed a spring in the crater.

B) The center of the city.
If you follow where your feet seem to want to carry you, you'll find yourself in the middle of the ruined city. It seems that the center of the city was once home to a massive forum, and some of the pillars and structures still stand. At the very center of the forum is a massive, elaborately constructed fountain, although it has now long since run dry of whatever used to fill it. One of the low, inner walls of the forum has a terminal embedded in its surface, although it looks curiously ancient, out of place with the rest of the city, and unlike the rest of the technology still left around, there doesn't seem to be any way to power it on or operate it. There are a few scattered pools of water and a few of the strange metallic plants in the city, too, but they're not quite as plentiful as in the crater.

The planet was obviously once home to a massive network of communication relays, but those have all been long since destroyed. However, with the bits and pieces left behind and a few determined minds, it wouldn't be too hard to build a working, if rudimentary, one...

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Tarn stares blankly at Megatron, as if the words aren't even computing. That's impossible. Megatron would never give up the fight. not so long as he still had life in him. And yet, somehow the words still came out of his mouth.

This is a test. It has to be. Megatron is testing his loyalty. But still, Tarn is at somewhat of a loss of what his lord wants him to do. Does he side with Megatron who is embodiment of the cause? After all if he says the war is over, it is over.

But...things have changed. Its one thing to declare the war to be over, but to wear the enemies mark? That is treason. A spark deep betrayal to the cause as a whole. Decepticons have been added to the list for lesser slights. He wonders briefly what has become of Soundwave and other loyal followers.

Minutes pass as Tarn just stares wordlessly at Megatron. He will not fail his esteemed leader. He needs to make a decision. He needs to say something instead of looking like a slack jawed idiot.

"Pardon?"

Well at least it will buy him time to decide which course of action to take...

Mask or no mask, the naked shock in Tarn's optics is clear, and Megatron is struck with a feeling that at first he can't place. This his his fault, he realises after a moment or two. That this problem exists at all is on him. He made this monster; he'd be a fool to assume he could simply turn his back on what he's created.

But what is he supposed to do with him?

He doesn't know.

"The war is over," he repeats. "The war is over, and... things have changed. Tarn... I am sure you must have many questions, and you will have your answers, but for now our utmost concern is how we have been brought here and why, and how we might reverse this."

Tarn continues to stare before quickly bowing his head in a nod. This will give him the time he needs to best decide his course of action. While he doesn't want to seem as if he's going soft, something this significant will require more information. He cannot fail this test.

"As you command...my Lord." Somehow the title seems wrong, but Tarn isn't sure what to call him anymore. Regardless, Megatron is right. Solving this puzzle should take precedent over all else. After all, he would really like to discuss the situation with his team. He stands from the dust, overwhelmed with the need just to move.

"Have you come by any information as of yet?"

"Not as much as I'd like," he admits, watching uneasily as Tarn rises to his feet. 'My Lord' makes him somewhat uncomfortable, he finds – but everything about Tarn makes him uncomfortable. The mech is the walking embodiment of the worst extravagances of his overexaggerated arrogance. The whole thing seems so ridiculous, in retrospect, and he isn't even sure if on some level he realised that when he was orchestrating it.

"What I do know is that while this is Cybertron, it is not our Cybertron... and it is not only individuals from our Cybertron who have found themselves transported here. Why or how is still beyond me."

Edited 2014-12-29 15:53 (UTC)

Tarn takes a step toward Megatron - wanting to take a better look at the Aubobrand on his chest. That horrid red smudge of paint. Anger rises briefly before he tamps in down firmly. He cannot let his emotions get the better of him. This isn't some lowbrow grunt in the Decepticon army; this is Megatron. His gaze lifts away from the brand as he stands at attention.

"Who have you come across so far? We should gather a team to better discuss the situation and begin formulation of a plan." Some honest, loyal, Decepticon company may do Tarn some good. Perhaps they can shed some light on the situation that is facing Tarn.

Megatron's frown is a tight line. He can't imagine Tarn getting along enough with most of the people he's encountered here. to form a team, never mind a plan. For the time being it seems like his own influence is enough to keep him in line, but for how long, once it really sinks in that Megatron has turned his back on everything he holds dear?

"Optimus Prime," he says. "A few individuals who... do not seem to hail from the same time or universe as ourselves. A number of organic life forms inexplicably bent on monopolising my time... And one or two members of my own crew." A brief pause, and then he adds, "I am... captain of an Autobot ship. Some of its crew would be worth locating, if they're here."

Some of them not so much.

You called?

Rodimus is minding his own business, he is - at least until he hears a very familiar voice utter the words: I am captain. Nope. Not allowed. Not here and not while he's around. So it takes him a little scrambling over ruins and one or two scuffs of paint but he manages to find where Megatron is standing in short order to correct this incorrect statement.

"Co-captain. He's co-captain of the Lost Light with me." This is said at Megatron, rather than at whoever Megatron was addressing just to make sure that the point was made. His ship might not still be around but he'll be damned if he's going to let his ship be stolen any further from him. So there. "Should have known you'd be here. Did you know there's some guy wandering around with huge eyebrows calling himself Megatronus?"

And then it clicks that he might actually want to look at who Megatron was talking to. And then he just. Stares for a moment while he tries to deal with the fact that Trailcutter is dead because of the mech standing in front of them. Also: Tarn.

"You."

Edited (SPELLING) 2015-01-02 18:11 (UTC)

This wasn't going to end well.

Tarn slowly turns to glare at the flashy red Autobot as he scuttles down a pile of rubble, completely bewildered that he has the audacity to address Megatron in such manner.

It's not until he seems to notice him, that recognition and understanding take hold, twisting his face into something poisonous. Tarn's gaze flits back momentarily to Megatron, before he turns to slowly approach the stunned mech who so rudely interrupted his meeting with Megatron. He intends to use this moment as a test of his own. How far can he take this, he wonders, before Megatron intervenes (if he does at all).

"Yes, me. You seem upset Autobot. Am I not a face you were hoping to see?." He starts to widely circle Rodimus, taking the opportunity to look back to Megatron. "That seems to be a trending reaction today, does it not?"

Anger rises steadily despite his attempts to quash it. He can feel his impeccable control beginning to slip ever so slightly. Perhaps it was Megatron's reveal, or Rodimus's arrogant attitude, or the fact that he is trapped on some sort of alternative Cybertron surrounded by Autobots with no allies and the rest of his team mysteriously missing.

Any one of those would be a viable explaination for the rage curling in his tanks.

Oh, hell.

He thinks he might almost have welcomed Rodimus's flippant discussion of his eyebrow-toting alternate universe younger double, under different circumstances – which is a dismal realisation in and of itself – but these circumstances are pretty much the worst circumstances Megatron could have conceived of.

"Rodimus," he says, too tense to sound quite as tired of this shit as he absolutely is. "I take it you've encountered Tarn before." He absolutely cannot afford to take sides here and he knows it, which means that an attempt to avoid the escalation of a confrontation between two people who are probably pretty much ready and willing to murder each other ends up sounding more like Megatron's talking to two coworkers who don't get on all that well at some kind of company social event.

"If you count that as a face." It's a mask in the shape of the Decepticon badge. That's pretty tacky and unnecessary if you ask the bot with flames on his chest. Which, of course, no one did.

Megatron's tone doesn't put Rodimus at ease, nor does it cause him to back down - Tarn is large and huge and pacing around him, but the sensible response that is 'shutting up and letting the adults handle this one' doesn't register with him. So instead he practically puffs up, hands clenching into fists.

"Never personally, but Drift's told me stories." That feature dismemberment, electric shocks, and all manner of horrible things ending in a very real and final death very prominently. "And you know what happened to Trailcutter. And what you said he and the rest of your little fan club did to my crew."

Is he allowed to be angry about an alternate version of his ship meeting their ends in ways that weren't explicitly detailed but definitely implied to be horrific and terrifying? He's going to be, because they're still his crew even if he wasn't alive to protect them. Rodimus doesn't even bother looking at Megatron, eyes trained on Tarn and a second away from adopting a far more offensive pose.

Edited 2015-01-03 08:22 (UTC)

Megatron's tone isn't helping. Hes clearly trying to ease some of the tension, but Tarn is picking it up as a weakness, only adding to the maelstrom of outrage brewing inside him.

"Hm. Of course he has. A shame about him, really, I expected more of a fight from the esteemed Deadlock. He sincerely was a disappointment. His friends weren't much better, either." He circles closer, brushing Rodimus' spoiler. "And, your crew, you say? Curious that you were nowhere to be found during our brief time on that ship. I suppose I should show you my thanks for incapacitating Overlord for us, though. It made apprehending him much easier than I could have ever anticipated."

Tarn stops behind Rodimus again, staring at Megatron over his helm. Time for his test he supposes. A large hand claps on Rodimus's shoulder, anchoring him in place as Tarn leans down to brush his mask against the Autobot's audiol.

"Would you like to join them...Co-Captain? Such a thing could surely be arranged" His voice twines around Rodimus' spark like razor wire, slowly constricting as Tarn's grip tightens warping metal.

"Enough, Tarn," snaps Megatron; the fingers of one hand curl into a useless fist, and he knows all too well how useless it is. There's genuine authority in his voice, though – which is pretty much all he has left, but it's not like he led the Decepticons for four million years just by punching people.

"Both of you. I know we all have our differences here, but for now we share a common goal, and pointlessly antagonising each other isn't going to help achieve it."

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.

He flinches slightly, recoiling at Megatron's authoritative tone, before pushing back. Tarn stares down at Rodimus as his hands scramble to grip at him. The vague threat of his weapon pointing at his throat borders somewhat between amusing and irritating. The discernible look of pain on his face is refreshing, however small.

He looks back up at Megatron, anger and betrayal overcoming him once again as he lays eyes upon the red Autobrand on his chest. pointlessly antagonizing? Rodimus is an Autobot. Tarn is a Decepticon. They have been at war For millions of years. Is he insinuating that, somehow, that holds no weight? That the entire war was nothing but some silly misunderstanding that could so easily be set aside for the sake of some absurd mystery? A thought that seemed so benign before Rodimus showed up now seems ludicrous. How could be possibly be expected to unite with the Autobots for any reason?

And so he readdresses Megatron

"My Lord," Tarn spits, not daring to pull his party trick on him quite yet, "I am merely performing my sworn duty as leader of your Justice Division." He deftly grabs hold of Rodimus' arm, twisting his servo and pulling until he feels the joint dislocate. "Is it not my obligation to dispose of any uppity Autobot imbeciles that I may come across?"

"No, Rodimus, Trailcutter is dead because of me," says Megatron, curt and serious. "He was killed on my behalf, just like everyone else you've lost in the last four million years. And yet you tolerate my presence on your ship, however grudgingly." His eyes narrow as he watches the painful twist of Rodimus's arm in Tarn's grasp. He doesn't make any move to intervene.

"I'm not telling either of you to forget about your animosity; I'm not a fool. But until we know what's going on here you're more good to each other alive than dead."

Edited 2015-01-05 15:34 (UTC)

You know what hurts? This. This really hurts. And even Rodimus can't help the sound that escapes him, teeth clenching so hard he thinks he might dislocate his jaw as well. Whatever, he's had worse. Time to show Tarn he's still not impressed by this over the top display of whatever the hell he thinks he's doing.

"'Uppity Autobot imbeciles'? Is that really the best you can do?" Rodimus, no. "I'm kind of fond of Decepticreep. Maybe I should use it more often."

But Megatron's omission gives him a kind of grim satisfaction, and a distraction from the obvious problem of his arm gently being twisted out of place, and probably off. "Great, you've finally realized what everyone else has known from the beginning. I'm still standing by what I said: you deserve to die, and you know you do." But could you possibly do it after you've called off your horrible teenage oc, please and thank. "Yeah? What use is having a psychopathic killer alive when half the people here are on his list? Are you just going to let him kill them, too? Just a few more deaths that are your fault."

Ripping out his voice box might be the simple solution to getting things done at this point, honestly.

Decepticreep? Wow he sure hasn't heard that one before. (Really though they are usually too busy running and screaming to say much of anything so ridiculous)

With a sort of put upon sigh, Tarn tears the arm in his grip free from Rodimus's body, energon spraying onto his chassis to mix with the few streaks that were already there. He takes a step back, looking down at himself. Perfect. What a fucking mess. He glances at Rodimus with a weak glare, before locking eyes with Megatron again.

"My lord, do you honestly expect me to allow this? Such blatant disrespect is not something I will stand for. Besides what use do we have for...that" he gestures vaguely in Rodimus' direction with the severed arm. "No, I'm afraid this is the only choice that I have."

If he can't dissuade Tarn, Megatron knows, then that's pretty much the end of it. For a moment he's tempted to just cut his losses, let Rodimus die, and lie to Tarn – claim that this was all some kind of test, secure his obedience until he can get out of here.

But he thinks about the conversation he had with the Megatron from before he became a murderer. He thinks of that feeling of responsibility that settled on his shoulders as he realised what had happened to the other Lost Light, and of the profound hypocrisy of claiming ownership of every death Tarn has caused and then standing by while he causes another one.

He swears inwardly as he steps forward, letting fury darken his optics and drawing back one too-weak hand as he rolls it into a fist. "Tarn!" he roars – his voice is still strong even if the rest of his body isn't, and he hopes against hope that the former will distract from the latter as he charges towards his old follower.

Even expecting to lose an arm doesn't make the reality any less painful, and the small scream that gets out of Rodimus before he shuts his mouth in an attempt not to give Tarn any more satisfaction than he already has is a clear indication of just how much it hurts. Well that's one gone, he's just got to get through Tarn tearing off the other three. But losing a limb doesn't shut him up, as much as everyone wishes it would have.

"Rodimus," he says. "It's Rodimus." Because correcting the guy who just ripped off your arm is totally the thing to do. His hand goes from trying to peel Tarn's off and to the joint, getting covered in energon in the process while he tries to stop himself from losing too much. "Why don't you take up some other hobby to keep you occupied instead? Like crosswords or, I dunno, slam poetry. Put that voice to good use."

Doubtless about to continue down this road, he's distracted by Megatron - that's kind of an attention grabbing roar and and step forward. One that Rodimus wasn't actually expecting at this point in time so he kind of just. Stares at Megatron, still clutching his wound.

Huh.

Edited 2015-01-08 03:31 (UTC)

The booming sound of Megatron's roar snaps Tarns attention away from Rodimus's chatter. His head swiveling only to catch sight of his commander charging toward him, hands clenched into fists and fury blazing in his eyes.

Tarn backs away, immediately dropping to his knees, instinct taking over completely. He is neither emotionally or (to the best of his knowledge) physically prepared for a fight with Megatron. This is the leader of the Decepticons. The mech who he has dedicated his life to serving. There is something inherently wrong with this entire situation in Tarn's eyes.

But the test has been completed he supposes; and Megatron failed. He desperately needs to regroup and evaluate what to do next. Tempestuousness roils in his tanks but he stays down. He will need to better prepare himself for this fight if it is to happen- though it seems inevitable at this point.

He scowls at Rodimus from the corner of his eye but keeps his head bowed in submission.

Megatron wants to sag in relief, but he holds himself steady, his optics still burning with anger as he looks down at Tarn. It's anger with himself as much as anything else – how far can he really blame Tarn for doing what he himself taught him to?

"Get out of here, Rodimus," he orders. He doesn't look away from Tarn, but he doesn't say anything to him.

Rodimus collapses on the ground when he's dropped, legs buckling underneath him. It takes him a fair amount of time to recover, and a little while longer after that while he grabs his arm. But it's when Megatron speaks that Rodimus scowls further, leveling him with a glare he won't see.

"Are you ordering me around? You can't--"

So yeah, he's not smart enough to take the hint and bolt. Sorry Megatron.

Megatron has pinned him with a fierce glare, even as he orders Rodimus to go. Tarn remains still, waiting begrudgingly for his prey to flee.

Then Rodimus opens his mouth. Words and disrespect come tumbling out. In that moment an all encompassing, white out rage overcomes him. His gaze snaps up, locking on the red Autobot only a few feet in front of him. Any sense of logic that may have been in his mind, keeping him from actually murdering this Autobot in front of Megatron, goes sailing out the window.

With an almost feral sounding roar, he lurches forward, grabbing Rodimus by the foot.

The look of furious incredulity Megatron turns on Rodimus would, in centuries past, have had Decepticons shutting down where they stood from sheer terror.

He tried, he thinks. No rational person could possibly blame him from leaving Rodimus to a fate he has clearly earned. And honestly, if this was anyone but Tarn, anyone other than this masked monument to Megatron's most catastrophic mistakes, he probably would just let the idiot get himself torn in half.

"You fool," he shouts, and with gritted teeth draws his pistol and fires – at Tarn's hand, at Rodimus's foot, honestly he doesn't care which at this point

Whatever Rodimus was expecting, it isn't this. He scrambles backwards the moment he sees Tarn lunging for him but his missing limb and the entire thing means he doesn't get out of the way quick enough, and the tank's strong grip grounds him. On the plus side: Tarn's so angry that Rodimus' has gotten him to stop using words. That's got to be an accomplishment, right? He needs to get free as soon as possible, and he focuses for a second, the air around him and his own frame heating up.

It's when Megatron starts shooting at him that he yelps again - trying to tug his leg free while covering his face with his remaining arm just in case he's gone full Decepticon. "Are you trying to kill me too?" If he is does that mean Rodimus gets the Lost Light back once he's exposed this?

Anyway. Attention back at Tarn, he aims a kick at his stupid masked face before, grit out through the pain: "Hate to break it to you, Tarn, but I'm just--" Wait for it, wait for it-- "Too hot for you to handle," he finishes, with the biggest shit-eating grin he can manage.

And then he literally erupts into flame.

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