robothell | [ INTRO LOG ]

Entry tags:

[ 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...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

It all happens in sort of quick succession.

The sharp sound of the gunshot quickly draws Tarn attention as he turns to look at Megatron in consternation. Just as he turns, Rodimus's foot connects with the side of his helm causing Tarn's gaze to immediately snap back to mech who's foot was still firmly in his hold. he would like say it was Rodimus' stubbornly irritating attitude laced with the sort of over the top cockiness what one would expect from a pre teen boy in gym class, that surprises him. But really the cherry on top, the coup de grace, was when Rodimus literallybursts into flames with a cheesy one liner.

Tarn pulls his hand back with a hiss, scuttling away from the blazing inferno in front of him. He sits back bracing himself on his uninjured hand, pining Megatron with an incredulous look, equal to that he gave Rodimus.

He is confused, angry, his hand hurts, but god damn we would be lying if he wasn't a bit jealous of that little trick. Imagine the uses it could be put to...

Unfortunately Rodimus will still have to share – when Tarn drops him and backs away, Megatron's pistol stays trained on the Decepticon, his expression hard, optics narrowed.

"Leave, Tarn," he snaps, in the dim hope that, between the surprise of his victim setting himself on fucking fire like a jackass and the shock of being threatened like this by Megatron himself, he'll do as he's told where Rodimus wouldn't.

"Ow," is all he manages to say, once he's burned himself out and his HUD is giving him an exact rundown of the damage he did to his system with that little trick. Still, it did what it was supposed to do, and Rodimus grabs his detached arm and struggles to his feet. Ow, ow, ow do they even have medic here? Because he does not want to die like this. He doesn't want to die at all.

When he's not bleeding everywhere and barely standing he's going to think about the fact that Megatron effectively saved his life. But that's not really important right now, and instead he's a bit unsteady on his feet next to his - ugh - co-captain. Everything hurts, but at least Tarn will have to reach through Megatron to get to him and that's always an improvement.

Ha ha Tarn, you giant ugly Decepitcon loser. "Yeah," he says. But very emphatically. And okay he can't have Megatron have all the fun and it's more for show, but he does raise his remaining arm up so the exhaust pipes are leveled at Tarn. You know. Just in case.

Tarn looks between Rodimus and Megatron, clutching his injured hand close to his chest. He considers going back and finishing the job with Rodimus, but he doesn't trust that the Autobot won't play up his fire trick again. So he goes with the other ill advised option and starts stalking toward Megatron.

He ignores the multiple weapons aimed at him and moves in a slow but purposeful way, trained solely on his old Commander. He stops a few paces away locking eyes with the pistol aimed at him.

"You have made a mistake, Megatron." he growls, curling his injured hand into a fist, ignoring the sharp sting. "You have betrayed the cause, those loyal Decepticons who have sacrificed their lives in your name, your followers. You have betrayed me."

Tarn bows his head just slightly. "I will mourn the mech you once were but I can not allow this egregious failure to go unpunished. It is my duty. I will not fail as you have."

"I betrayed my followers millions of years ago," Megatron growls. "I betrayed the Decepticon cause when I allowed it to produce you." He doesn't lower the gun.

Tarn stares at Megatron as emotions flit across his optics, from sorrow, to
betrayal, to burning anger.

"Take care of it then, Megatron. Shoot me where I stand. Atone for your mistakes." He doesn't move away despite the gun still leveled at him, "Prove to me that at least you aren't a coward."

Megatron's expression hardens. He doesn't lower the gun. He considers it, for a second or two – considers the ever-more-familiar feeling of guilt that bites into his spark at the look in Tarn's optics – and then he fires.

It isn't enough, of course. He was allowed a weapon, but not one powerful enough that it would have gotten a job like this done. But he has a point to make.

Tarn staggers back but doesn't utter a sound. The shot shatters one of biolights on his chassis, piercing the plating beneath. I hurts, of course, but he refuses to show that to Megatron. He can handle pain.

Tarn straightens the best he can, pinning his old commander with a burning glare. "At least I can count on you to not disappoint on one front. I have done everything you have wished of me. I have been exceedingly loyal. Have I disappointed you, my lord?" he spits the honorific like poison but takes another step back, glancing at Rodimus, before turning to leave. He is in no shape to take on Megatron. Soon. But, not today.

"No," says Megatron, meeting Tarn's furious gaze. "Never."

He lets him go. If Rodimus tries to stop him Megatron's going to smack him upside the head.

Rodimus has been watching this conversation with a bit of mild amusement (he might have snickered 'oh burn' under his breath at one point because Tarn's hand, get it?) but also a deep appreciation for Megatron being Megatron that he is actively choosing to ignore until later. Probably never.

"Nice seeing you, Tarn. Don't keep in touch." Ha ha ha. Well. That was a thing. Rodimus smirks at Tarn's retreating back before he turns to Megatron, attempting to clutch at his wound while keeping a hold of his arm. This-- is gonna be difficult. "Well that went well. I mean, nice job with the rejection thing - but we're still going to have to deal with him. Properly. When we get back."

Rodimus, no.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject