robothell | [ THE "DRIFT GOT HECKED UP BY TARN" CATCH-ALL POST ]

"Spiky Megatron," Nautica attempted to clarify, waving a hand around her shoulder in a vague gesture with no explanatory power unless you'd already seen the Megatron in question. She happened to be using the arm with the fluid line in it, since she was lying on the other one, and she managed to catch the tubing on some of the plating on her forearm.

"Nice Megatron brought me to the clinic," she added absently, most of her limited attention on trying to untangle herself.

"He's executed many Decepticons who were still very loyal to the cause." There's quiet pain in Aftermath's voice. "Captured soldiers who'd given in during interrogation, non-combatants who committed the crime of not being useful in fights- and anyone who dared to speak up against the horrific command structure. The list goes on and it got uglier with so many people losing faith as the war wound down."

He really didn't want to make Megatron's day worse, but it wasn't fair to keep the truth from him either. Especially not now when Tarn was making his move.

"I imagine he's being friendly to you with the intention of grooming you to be... well." Ah, they might have hit a rather awkward subject here.

He stops.

It was difficult not to feel disgusted at what Aftermath describes. Memories of Croteus-12 were still vivid and fresh in his mind, and nothing seemed to sting quite like the judgment call of who is 'useful'.

Megatron is strangely cold as a wave of anger crawls up his struts, clenching his fists.

"He's failed to understand that I'm not his, nor anyone's to be 'groomed'."

The miner looks back at the clinic, his temper just hidden beneath a thin mask.

"I've clearly been too tolerant of the sickness that has entered my cause."

"Don't do anything to put yourself in danger, Megatron, please," Aftermath stands up, stepping after the younger mech. "He's a trained warrior with at least four million years of combat experience behind him and the ability to put out sparks with his voice."

He places his palm lightly against the back of Megatron's shoulder, voice growing quiet. "You cannot change the way of things if you end up dead."

"I noticed both of those things, Rodimus, thank you for your consistently incisive ability to state the blindingly obvious," Ratchet says, his voice caustic. He shifts as Megatron moves past him, reaching out to put an energon-wet hand briefly on Megatron's forearm and squeeze his thanks, the motion almost absent. "Just get some recharge, I'll let you know when Drift is up."

He leans in a little closer, his optics dimming before they flick up at Megatron, very briefly.

"What do you think of Tarn's handiwork, then?" he says, his voice quiet and deceptively mild. "Though I've patched the worst of the leaks by now. He one big smear when Rodimus brought him in, you can see it on Rodimus' plating."

June catches that sick look on his face and whatever Megatron said about Rodimus being a problem child gets brushed aside, because June can tell he's hurting. She doesn't see spite there, just something painfully earnest. June draws her hand away and realizes her own skin is smudged with energon. Looking up at Rodimus she frowns slightly and withdraws a handkerchief from her pocket, moving to wipe some of the energon from the plating on his leg. She's probably going to need a bigger cloth.

"No, maybe not. But it's a good start." June's voice is level, but she means it to be comforting, or she hopes it will be, anyway. Rodimus is on the sulky side, but June can tell why. She knows her shitty teenagers, after all. "From what I understand, Megatron intends to take care of Tarn. Hopefully that stops all this for good."

Ratchet, why would you not tell him Megatron is working in the clinic? Drift is starting to feel like people failing to deliver critical information is turning into a trend.

"You? You." Drift's clearly still stunned, although increasingly skeptical. He's having an awful lot of mind-blowing discoveries lately and honestly, he needs a break. Can he go, like, one day without having someone break his personal reality. "You're...working in a medibay. With Ratchet. ...You're not an Autobot too, are you?"

"I'm aware."

The worry in Aftermath's voice pacifies some of the fire Megatron's expression as he turns to meet him. It didn't feel good to make him worry.

"He's already had four million years of violence, I imagine he's quite acclimated to it. More of the same won't make any impact."

He squares his shoulders,"But I will make my point, and it will burn worse than any gunshot wound."

"There are officially too many Megatrons here," he muttered, rubbing the back of his helm. "Are you telling me there's another one beyond Eyebrows, Autobot, and-- okay, I'm not calling him 'nice Megatron'. Miner. There's one more?"

That settles it. He's died and his spark has gone to the Afterspark which, in some sort of cruel joke, has given him not one but four Megatrons. There is no other explanation he will take at this point.

Edited 2015-02-10 04:35 (UTC)

"He's nice!" she insisted, forgetting about the topic at hand and her efforts to disentangle herself (thanks for the help, Rodimus) to defend her friend.

Yes, pre-war Megatron's character traits was the hill Nautica was willing die on.

You're welcome, Nautica. "I'm letting you off easy because you don't know what happens like the rest of us do, but-- not nice. Pre-genocidal maybe. On a good day."

Rodimus was told that a true leader acted without regret after he blew up Nyon by a Megatron not so far removed from this one. He's got a hard time letting that and the near execution of Bumblebee go.

"I disapprove of any interaction with him, nonviolent or otherwise," Aftermath opines, bemusement belying his words. "... But I won't stop you."

"At least let me come with you should you find the occasion for such a thing," the old truck continues quietly. "You don't have to endure this alone. You shouldn't have to."

It turns out if Megatron doesn't start a war, the future gets even crappier. What a terrible universe they live in.

Nautica paused long enough that if not for the steady glow of her optics, it wouldn't have been clear whether she'd drifted off. She was simply taking a long time to arrive at the conclusion that she was not going to be able to put together a nuanced explanation of the ethical principles involved.

"Can't blame him for things he hasn't done."

...Close enough.

Instead of feeling even remotely better after his chat with Nautica he feels uneasy and off balance and greatly, greatly dislikes it. He needs to do something - just being witness to Tarn's beatdown wasn't enough because he didn't do it. Megatron did. Who took his ship and his crew because Optimus thought he could his job better, didn't give him the chance to prove otherwise. And now he can't do anything.

He guesses Drift felt the same, and something unpleasant churns in his tanks when he glances at his best friend - still sleeping - on the berth. Maybe if he just leaves before Drift wakes up he won't know he's been there at all. Ratchet's busy patching up Megatron so he won't be able to rat him out. This is the time he can make his escape.

Of course avoiding Drift after he's discharged is going to be a hassle since they live in the same building, but Rodimus is sure he can work something out. When has he ever not? Now, he thinks belatedly, might not have been the best time for that thought - a list of failures running through his head and preventing him from taking those final few steps towards the door.

Edited 2015-02-10 05:29 (UTC)

Megatron didn't have much time to reflect on Ratchet's rare and tiny gesture of approval, because the question immediately sends a bolt of rage through his body. It's firmly contained in his expression, but clear enough in the way he clenches his hands into fists and carefully steps away from Drift that exuded an almost palpable disgust.

An acidic gaze stays fixed on the damage as he reflects on the crudely scrawled Decepticon emblem on Drift's chest - his symbol - used for this revolting display of force. Not only that, but left for Ratchet to clean up.

It takes a moment or two to regain control of his voice - though some of the revulsion still bled through,"Why did Tarn target him?"

Edited 2015-02-10 05:37 (UTC)

"No. But I don't think my allegiance is really relevant here, is it?"

He tries again, large fingers gently pressing into the less armored joint of his wrist to feel the electrical current and palpitations of his energon lines.

Ah, right there.

Ratchet's optics stay focused on his work, his face set and still.

"Ah," Ratchet says softly, his hands very gentle against Drift's plating as he smooths out as many dents as he can, watching the back of Drift's helm impassively. "That would be because Drift used to be a Decepticon."

That does not make him feel better in the slightest, and Rodimus snaps "He hurt my crew" before he can stop himself - mouth snapping shut the moment it comes out. He doesn't want to talk about this at all, and he absolutely does not want to talk to some human who is--

"What're you doing?"

Possibly the actual, literal worst.

Rodimus had actually considered that she'd fallen asleep with her eyes open - she wouldn't have been the first, but when she speaks again his attention snaps back to her instead of that really interesting point on the wall.

"Does it actually matter? He's going to."

"No."

Megatron thinks of Drift's torn up body lying in the medibay. That's not something he'd want to risk on anyone else he knows.

"If I want to change the Decepticon movement for the better, I need to do this by myself. I can't let Tarn use you as an excuse to ignore what I'm saying."

A hand rises to the radio in his helm,"I still have your call signature if anything happens."

Edited 2015-02-10 07:18 (UTC)

There's a long pause there, as he notices Ratchet tending to Drift in a way that seemed subtly beyond professional courtesy.

He'd be lying if he said he absolutely didn't expect this is what Tarn did in the past, but part of him wanted to believe he'd be able to adapt. Change for the better. That, and seeing the damage there, right before his eyes...

"I understand why he'd defect," he remarks bitterly, as the monstrous nature of what his creation would become rears in its ugly head,"This is no better than what the Senate inflicted on its people."

"This isn't Tarn's worst," Ratchet says. "This doesn't even come close. I've had Decepticon POWs beg me to let them die rather than operate on them and let them risk being put on Tarn's list of traitors as punishment for being captured. He wanted to keep Drift alive to send a message, or Drift would be dead.

"Regardless," he continues, his voice tightening. "Cruelty like this isn't why he defected. He was called Deadlock back then, and he did more than his fair share of unrepentant senseless brutal murder. If you want to know why he's an Autobot now, you'll have to ask him." Ratchet snaps a piece of straightened plating back into place with more force than is strictly necessary.

"After I'm finished completely rebuilding his ruined vocalizer, anyway. I doubt he'll be able to speak when he first wakes up, if he even wants to."

Getting Ratchet to rest is a near impossible task, one that Rodimus knows well. It's one of those things he's just come to accept about the Chief Medical Officer - he's not even sure an order from him would get the other bot to stand down. Rodimus himself hasn't kept still, he's tried, sure, but no matter what he's always moving. It could be him just standing up and pacing around the clinic or fingers tracing a design into Drift's berth when the other isn't awake.

It keeps him occupied until something's going to be done, and that's all that matters.

His optics flick up once, meet Megatron's gaze, and narrow suspiciously. Not saying anything, because Drift's on the mend for all he can tell and maybe some of that is because of Megatron. But that doesn't stop his arms from crossing and giving Megatron a full on glare. So maybe he's a bit protective of Drift. Who wouldn't be after their best friend got mauled by someone who modeled his actions after the writings and beliefs of the person he's staring at?

Say something to him, Megatron. He dares you.

Megatron says nothing as Ratchet sees fit to inform him in more detail of what Tarn and his team had done. He can only imagine what horrors he would grow to subject his followers to. The very thought of this as fortunate treatment strangles his anger with an overwhelming sense of dread.

For a long minute, he's quiet, merely staring at Ratchet's hands as he works, unsure of what to tell him.

"I don't understand," he finally says, the gravity of Tarn's treatment weighing heavily on him.

"I can't see how I'd come to create this - to see this level of cruelty as necessary - under any circumstance."

Edited 2015-02-10 22:35 (UTC)

"And yet," Ratchet says, pulling his hands back and wrapping them around the handles of his crutches, wet with energon and oil as he limps slowly around to the other side of the stretcher, nudging Megatron out of the way with an elbow before he settles in again. His face is unreadable and his voice is oddly heavy as he reaches down again, hands curling against Drift's ruined plating, the space where his leg should be still a weird emptiness, unbalancing him.

"Here we are."

[ THE "DRIFT GOT HECKED UP BY TARN" CATCH-ALL POST ]

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FOR DRIFT goddamn it madi how many of these must i make

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