Unknown Soldiers

Casually rolling up some newspaper in his hands if he needs it to whack the tank. "It is likely. Sparks can vary from the light spectrum, and texture that shapes them depending on if they are harvested from the planet's crust or merged between two sparks. The multiverse must certainly affect each in such a way that all have their own unique way to code where the originate from."

New Kaon on the cusp of night was a sight worthy of praise by the Vosian poets of old. Swathes of gold and crimson faded to the dawning stars, a last cry for triumph before darkness would overtake them. But New Kaon was never dark, not anymore. Fuel was not yet plenty, but there was enough, at last, to sustain a growing, thriving city. They could now afford the luxury of a glittering cityscape that did not slumber.

Tarn had once been fond of Vosian poetry, a time during which he'd had many hours to dwell on text meant to fill a page. Excess had been easily afforded then, and he hadn't known its true cost.

Content for the while, he thought of his associates and comrades, Decepticons and the rare Autobots he'd once known yet overlooked due to his work. Nostalgia was a difficult fiend to overcome once it's reared its helm. The tankformer sifted through his contacts, and extended his greetings to a few of them before coming across a frequency he hadn't used for several years. Curious of how his old friend fared, he sent a polite ping, and attached a text message to his hail.

How time has gone by. Had the message emerged when they last spoke, a response would have been swift. However, life times had passed by and not the name had far more meaning than simply a dear friend. There had been two others that bore the same name and likeness of which Lieutenant would gladly like to never see again.

This one is different. He knew him before his universe implemented their Decepticon Justice Division. In fact, he recalled that being one of the last conversations he had with the mech prior to the drop in communications. Informing Tarn that he would be attending a rally in a few months-- a rally in which Megatron revealed these five monsters that would be set loose upon the Decepticons who dared to think of turning away from the cause.

Those five would end up killing his former crew for the crimes of leaving the Decepticon cause and harboring a double agent, Lieutenant. A guilt that, over the years, hasn't fully ever healed.

The other Tarn was a threat by a petty rat bastard to come for his Conjunx. Regardless of the outcome, it nearly ended Lieutenant's Conjunx-ship. That trepidation made the mech's spark casing knot up. The guilt and fear surrounded him as he spent his time pacing around with the text message left seemingly unread. Hands wrung together as Lieutenant's mind was a cloud of what he should do. He knew this mech. He knew this version of Tarn was unlike any of the others.

In honesty, he yearned for a friend.

He would first have to speak to his Conjunx about it to avoid the medic finding out and assuming the worst of things. This would delay Tarn's answer, but he would send a response.

[[txt]] My, it has been ages since I have heard from you. Memories of the crystal garden walks and drinks of absinthe feel like faded fingerprints on an abandoned handrail.

No one seen it coming, but Pharma could not say he was surprised. He had no words, but one of the nurses that held onto his arm looked up at him "What are we going to do?"

"What can we do?" Pharma answers flatly without taking his optics away from the screen. As medics there really wasn't anything they can do any differently.

As always, they just have to take it and survive simply to help others survive through it all.

There was a crash of doors, a secretary running into the room yelling frantically "They're here!"

But what could they possibly want with a facility full of medics?

The secretary quickly loses their helm to a gunshot, nurses around Pharma screaming, the ones that were holding his arm pulling him "Pharma what are we supposed to do???"

"Run, get out of here- do not all hide in the same place—" Pharma pushes them away, shoving them along with the crowd but he wasn't going anywhere.

"What are you doing to do???"

"Give you time—" Pharma's servo transforms, the long saw giving a rev at his side as his other hand pulls his pistol from his holster waiting for the Decepticons storming the facility to make into the lab.

The mech rushed to find his footing as Clutch transformed and dashed further into the hospital. Seeming like he was hiding something, what Decepticons had breached the facility took chase after the medic.

Skirting around the corners with screeching tires, Clutch drifts past the main lab to spy Pharma with a chainsaw and gun. What got to him was the expression on the medic’s face. Gone was that irritably smug smirk and smarm about the Chief Medical Officer. The mech’s icy optics alone could kill and the aura radiated off the medic.

That, and the absolute carnage that was taking place in the lab.

Clutch had been in the war, he had seen some horrific scenes, but Pharma against the Decepticons? This wasn’t just him fighting to save the hospital, that was hatred.

BEHOLD

MY HUSBAND

Now to set the mood for this current... flirting session.

With SONG.

♫ OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH,

Two birds with beautiful feathers, always stick together~

Tweeting and chirping even as the days go by.

They're never ever really apart. Just take my woooooord!

*snorts*