Winged Leadership

Though he was able to follow Tarn’s gaze, Deathsaurus remained silent. He was curious to see what the tankformer’s responses would be. Though he bristled slightly when Tarn appeared to be somewhat offended by his inquiries, Deathsaurus promptly composed himself. He mentally reminded himself that he would have to grow accustomed to any sort of outbursts, however restrained, from the masked mech…or members of their team.

“Well, that is assuring to hear, at least,” Deathsaurus murmured, rubbing along his jawline. He noticed that he seemed to have pricked the DJD leader’s ego, so the beastformer tried to take a more amiable demeanor. “I know. You and the DJD did not garner the reputation that you have without good reason. I was simply concerned.”

At the question of Nitrogear being discrete, Deathsaurus couldn’t help but chuckle. He waved a hand quickly and nodded.

“I can assure you that Nitrogear is one of the most, if not the most, discrete mechs aboard this warworld,” he stated firmly. “It is one of the reasons I employed him in the first place. I can promise that any worries you may have about him discussing what has transpired are completely unfounded.”

———

Fortunately, Deathsaurus ceased to press on the subject of Tarn’s addiction and more than questionable life choices, which, in turn, made the tank stop bristling and settle down a little bit. He’d have to take the beastformer’s word about Nitrogear, but Deathsaurus hadn’t lied to him so far… so Tarn was at least willing to trust him on that regard.

To be honest, the warworld commander hadn’t been anything but patient and understanding with him despite his past and reputation, and had been correct and honest at all times, both with him and his teammates. And that was something that Tarn couldn’t say of himself.

Perhaps…

Perhaps this wasn’t fair for the other mech either.

Heaving a long, slow sigh and looking away, the tank made the mental exercise of visualizing all his ego as a big pile of sharp metal scraps, pushed it inside a trash compactor, compressed it until it was the size of an energon treat, and then proceeded to swallow it up in one gulp. Like medicine, it tasted unpleasant and left a bitter aftertaste, but it was necessary if he wanted to make any progress with his new allies.

“Well, your apology is both appreciated and accepted. Admittedly, it makes me feel better about paying you such an, erm, abrupt visit,” Deathsaurus replied, finials still occasionally flicking.

At the mention of Tarn not having the best days, the warworld commander couldn’t help but chuckle knowingly. He nodded appreciatively as Tarn continued, a faint smile remaining on his features.

“If it’s any consolation, I believe myself to be well acquainted with not having the best of days. You can’t be a leader of any sort and not have a few days that are less than pleasant.” Briefly shrugging and stretching his wings before folding them politely behind himself, Deathsaurus smirked at Tarn. “Besides, I’m quite aware of your previous work experience. It would have been very remiss of me to not anticipate that there might be a few...misunderstandings here and there.”

The winged mech paused and blinked, as though remembering something else. He looked back to Tarn, raising a helm ridge questioningly.

Tarn saw Nitrogear leave with a touch on concern to his field. Was Deathsaurus’s assistant going to tell everyone about the real reason the fearsome Tarn lost a spar to their commander after a single direct hit? About his addiction? The tankformer suddenly regretted having blurted out such sensitive information.

Deathsaurus’s serious tone and question pulled him from those thoughts and back to the real concern at servo. And while he was glad that the other mech wasn’t planning to go back on their alliance…

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Tarn replied, half-offended at such scenario. “I would never go into battle with my T-cog in poor shape.” He felt insulted that the beastformer thought him capable of such foolishness. “I would never put the lives of my allies and teammates at risk.” While he didn’t lash out, Tarn did turn defensive. Today had not been a good day, and he was starting to be done with people patronizing him.

“I have not been leader of the DJD during millennia for my good looks. I think I know what I am doing.” He hoped this friendly reminder helped Deathsaurus remember who he was talking to. Tarn was one of the most feared mechs in existence. He was ruthless. He was infalible. And above all, he didn’t let insignificant health problems get in the way of his duties.

Tarn huffed, looking past the warworld commander and to the door. “I hope Nitrogear is a discrete mech.” He commented, wanting to change the subject.

Though he was able to follow Tarn’s gaze, Deathsaurus remained silent. He was curious to see what the tankformer’s responses would be. Though he bristled slightly when Tarn appeared to be somewhat offended by his inquiries, Deathsaurus promptly composed himself. He mentally reminded himself that he would have to grow accustomed to any sort of outbursts, however restrained, from the masked mech...or members of their team.

“Well, that is assuring to hear, at least,” Deathsaurus murmured, rubbing along his jawline. He noticed that he seemed to have pricked the DJD leader’s ego, so the beastformer tried to take a more amiable demeanor. “I know. You and the DJD did not garner the reputation that you have without good reason. I was simply concerned.”

At the question of Nitrogear being discrete, Deathsaurus couldn’t help but chuckle. He waved a hand quickly and nodded.

Now, the terrified shriek made Tarn finally take notice of the small mech hiding behind Deathsaurus. Nitrogear. Why did Nitrogear had to be here as well? It was bad enough that the warworld commander had apparently taken the time to review the footage of their combat time and time again until he had worked out the reason of his injury. But his secretary as well? Just how many of Deathsarus’ crew had had access to that footage?

Tarn briefly considered the medicine cabinet. He fleetingly wondered how long until he passed out if he chugged down a full bottle of painkiller pills.

He discarded the idea as quickly as it came though. Deathsaurus was already angry enough at him. Worse actually. He wasn’t angry.

He was disappointed.

The word came crashing on Tarn like a building. Tarn could deal with many things. But disappointing someone he had been trying to impress in favour of a mutually beneficial alliance wasn’t one of them. And the worst of all was going to be when his teammates eventually found out. He definitely couldn’t deal with that level of disappointment. Tarn had screwed up their best chance to have something resembling a stable future.

“I…” Tarn desperately tried to pinpoint the exact moment when everything went wrong in case he ever had the chance to travel back in time. He had disappointed Nickel, Deathsaurus, his teammates… He might as well pass on leadership to Kaon and bury himself in the first asteroid that flew close enough

“You’re right. I broke my T-cog.” Tarn said with a deep sigh, finally giving up, shoulder barrels dropping dejectedly. “I didn’t want you to find out because…” How did one say ‘because I am addicted to shape-shifting’ without sounding like a complete failure? “Because… I know  there are some rumours…” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.

Okay that wasn’t exactly true. They weren’t rumours. It was the truth. If he was going to dig his own grave at least he’d go out like an honest mech.

“Because I am addicted to changing shape, okay?” Tarn groan-sighed, throwing his arms up in a gesture of both exasperation and surrender. “And I am trying to give it up. And the first step to gradually do so was to make my T-cogs last longer. And that apparently is done by transforming less. And not by trying to stretch out the useful life of your current T-cog by delaying the replacement. And Nickel already gave me the scolding of the century for it so I really don’t need you doing it again, please.

My T-cog broke during our spar because it was in terrible shape, something that wouldn’t have happened if I had changed it when I should. And I didn’t want you to find out because I didn’t want you to think less of me- think that I am weak or a handicap… or that I am a bad choice for an ally or… I guess I just didn’t want to screw this up…”

All was blurted out in a rush and Tarn felt briefly good for finally letting it all out… but that was soon replaced by regret because it meant Deathsaurus would probably hate him now.

“But I have.” He added softly unable to look at any of the other mechs. “So if you’re thinking about going back on our alliance please consider at least taking my teammates with you. They are… so much better than me.”

Though he didn’t do it on purpose, Deathsaurus let Tarn’s admission hang in the air long enough that Nitrogear looked up at him questioningly. Blinking quickly, the beastformer tried to comprehend Tarn’s reasoning. While he could certainly understand the tankformer’s wish to keep their addiction private, Deathsaurus struggled to see the logic in it.

Did Tarn not think Deathsaurus was capable of keeping such information secret? What were they planning to do if their T-cog broke on the battlefield? What if Nickel was not available and a new T-cog was needed? Had Tarn been planning on remaining in agony until Nickel was available?

There were far too many questions running around in Deathsaurus’s mind to address at the moment. Right now, the more pressing matter was Tarn’s request. The tankformer made it sound like they were already planning to leave, and that was more than alarming for Deathsaurus.

“I...see,” the winged mech finally stated. He glanced down at Nitrogear, who, ever true to their nature, was huddled up behind the much larger mech. Stifling a sigh, Deathsaurus reached down and patted the smaller on the helm. “You may leave, Nitrogear. I do not think that I will need you-”

That was as far as Deathsaurus got before Nitrogear practically shot out of the room. He barely avoided crashing into the door before it could recognize the need to slide open. The sound of the scrawny mech’s rapid footfalls echoed through the hall until he was gone.

“Ahem. As I was saying...” Deathsaurus turned back to Tarn. “I have no intention of going back on our alliance. It is far too beneficial to abandon over something like this. However, I must now voice my concerns about something that could threaten our alliance.”

Frowning, Deathsaurus briefly took in his surroundings. He didn’t expect Tarn to lash out. At least, he hoped not. But the survivalist in the beastformer wasn’t going to continue without being at least a little cautious.

“This information that you kept from me was...critical, in my opinion. I have to ask, what did you plan to do if your T-cog broke in the middle of a fight and one of my crew, or myself, was relying on you to be able to function? Would we be left to our own devices then?”

Tarn heard the door swoosh open but didn’t pay it much attention. Judging by the noise of heavy pedestepes and the soft snort, it most likely was Helex, who came to check on his leader with his usual mix of concern and tease.

The tank toyed with the broken T-cog in the tray, poking at the fragments and glaring at the offending piece of technology that had caused him so much pain.

Well, at least so much pain had paid off, and his secret was safe from-

Tarn froze when he heard the voice calling for him and bluntly pointing out the cause of his ailment. That hadn’t been Helex.

Lifting his gaze to the source of the voice effectively revealed no other than Deathsaurus. He didn’t even notice Nitrogear at first, as he was practically fused with the warworld commander’s leg.

“Deathsaurus!” Tarn exclaimed, almost choking on his own words, flinging the tray with the broken T-cog against the furthest wall of the medbay in a reflex action, so quick that he surprised himself. “M-my T-cog? Why? What made you think that?” He hopped off the medical berth, trying to look healthier than he was and most importantly, blocking the view to the object he just threw away as he turned to address Deathsaurus, servos coming to rest on his hips in a casual manner.

No broken T-cogs to see here. Only healthy tanks that had never suffered any major ailments. Definitely not still wobbly from the anaesthetics.

Whatever composure Deathsaurus may have had was broken by Tarn’s exclamation and subsequent hurling of the broken T-cog. But while the winged mech managed to keep his surprise stifled to a wide-opticed startle, Nitrogear didn’t manage such. The smaller mech shrieked in terror and clung to Deathsaurus’s lower leg, squeezing their optics shut.

Glowering down disapprovingly at Nitrogear, Deathsaurus breathed out a snarl and turned his attention to Tarn.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. I reviewed the footage countless times, went over every strike that landed in my head, and even had the footage reviewed by a-” Deathsaurus glanced down at Nitrogear, who was trying to hide behind the warworld commander’s wings. “-um, a third party.”

Sighing heavily and rubbing the bridge of his forehelm, Deathsaurus gave Tarn a narrow look. His posture straightened, and his tone took on the one that the warworld commander used when chastising errant subordinates. There may have been a hint of aggression, but overall it was just chagrin.

‘You’ll be fine. Just … Smile like you always do around a show’ Socket offered as they descended down the gangplank to where trio of Decepticon’s waited to greet them. Symphony, scolding himself, had to admit he had had a completely different image in his head of the ship’s interior, mostly big purple banners bearing the Decepticon symbol or a statue of Megatron somewhere. But this? This was so … Normal. While lacking in luster and gold, it looked somewhat similar to his own hangar bay. Crates, tools, work stations, an oil stain or two. Maybe … He had it all wrong?

“Oh, no, Deathsaurus. The pleasure is all mine” Symphony smiled, giving a delicate little bow of his helm back politely as servos clasped at his front, hovering with all the grace and shimmer of the old Cybertronian Lilleth birds, his pearlescent paint almost mimicking the little facets in the interior lighting. The hovering and the reason he was here not at all helping such a mental image. 

“This is Weaselwing, my navigator.” A polished servo gesturing at the little matte grey seeker at his hip, flashes of a Decepticon symbol visible between adjusting their hold on the great flask of high grade in their arms nearly half as tall as they were.  “And these are Socket and Gasket, my stagehands” Another gesture at the pair proudly bringing up the rear of the little convoy. 

“But, no. I would indeed love a tour of your ship. I will not deny that I am curious the interior of a spherical ship. I … I have never seen anything like this before”

“Of course, of course. You are all welcome here,” Deathsaurus agreed with a nod. He turned and motioned for his guests to follow him. “This way, please.”

Both Nitrogear and Dreadnought fell in step alongside their commander. Occasionally, the silver and blue mech would nudge Nitrogear when he noticed them staring at Symphony for a bit too long. The smaller mech would start and scuttle back to Deathsaurus, but couldn’t help but be enraptured by Symphony’s appearance.

“Admittedly, I have kept quite a bit of the militaristic appearance of this warworld. Some believe that I should completely renovate it and make it more...civil.” Deathsaurus scoffed and chuckled at the notion. “What they fail to realize is that this warworld’s capabilities, the ones that have been kept and maintained, have saved me and my crew more than a few times. Even so, the upper floors have been revamped to a degree so as to provide more leisurely activities. Such as a bar and game room.”

As Deathsaurus guided his guests around the warworld, there seemed to be no shortage of whispers at the sight of the visitors. Mechs of various frames, builds, and demeanor studied the temporary additions to their home. Though there was the occasional snicker or unsavory comment, those aboard the warworld were, as a whole, grateful for Symphony’s presence.

Upon entering an elevator to take them up to the next floor, Deathsaurus glanced over to Symphony.

With the medbay in perfect sterile conditions and every tool cleaned and returned to its proper cabinet, Nickel let out a tired, but satisfied sigh and then wheeled up to her commander. “Do you need anything else?” Tarn might be a disaster sometimes, but she still cared. She had to, because she had the distant feeling nobody else would if she didn’t.

“I’m… fine.” He replied, which earned him The Look™ from the medic. The number of times Tarn claimed to be ‘fine’ when he wasn’t was enough to make Nickel doubt such statement. “Really,” Tarn waved a servo reassuringly. “Just a little dizzy from the anaesthetics. I’ll rest here for a while and then go back to work. You did a great job, Nickel. You should take a break. I’ll call you if I need anything else.”

“I sure did.” Nickel huffed. She knew her skills and performance were top-notch. She just wished she didn’t have to put them to test so often. “I’m taking that well-deserved break. But you aren’t going back to work either.” She replied, with a tone that brooked no argument. “As soon as you’re able to walk out of the medbay, you are going back to your habsuite for a long rest. Give your systems time to adjust to your new pieces. You’ll wake up feeling a lot better, I assure you.”

Tarn had been about to protest, but nodded. “Okay, I’ll do that.” He knew better than to disagree with the bot that just put him back together.

Satisfied, Nickel turned to leave. “Oh, and please, be a dear and dispose of that before you leave.” She added, gesturing to the burnt T-cog pieces that were still on the tray next to the tankformer before finally exiting the medbay.

Tarn let out a long, suffering sigh, posture slouching a bit and rubbing his mask with a servo. The day had turned out to be a complete disaster. He just hoped Deathsaurus didn’t hold this little ‘incident’ against him. He couldn’t afford to disappoint his new ally.

Not five minutes later though, the door of the medbay was wooshing open again…

The walk to the Peaceful Tyranny seemed far too short.

After having made sure that Nickel had turned the corner and he was out of her line of sight, Deathsaurus walked through the door to the medbay. The painfully clean, sterile lack of scent greeted him, making the warworld commander snort softly. He glanced around, and immediately saw Tarn.

Well...at least Deathsaurus hadn’t missed his opportunity to talk with the DJD leader.

With a sigh, the winged mech strode forward. Nitrogear followed him, staying so close that they had to shuffle rather than walk.The smaller mech might as well have been clinging to Deathsaurus’s leg. Though, given the environment and impending conversation, the winged mech couldn’t fault them for being nervous. Or “absolutely, positively, without a doubt, utterly terrified” as Nitrogear had put it.

“Tarn,” Deathsaurus acknowledged with a nod.

Stopping what he considered a polite distance from the tankformer, the warworld commander gave Tarn a pointed look before speaking.

Slowly dipping the nose of the ship to come about, angling the golden behemoth towards the indeed glowing window that was docking bay three, Socket piloting the little scouter ship back into the Solarwing’s hangar bay to dock, unload, and get to positions for when Symphony stepped off it.

It’s just a show.

He felt he was ready. Or, as ready as he’d ever be for stepping onto a giant planet sized war orb full of soldiers and mecha he was trying to ignore the fact of that had criminal records in the optics of an Autobot were he, too, a soldier. But, the war was over, peace had been made albeit shaky so perhaps this little performance would solidify that foundation to build on. Primus, if it all went to slag, perhaps even as an Autobot with the badge on his chassis they might look the other way for his exemption in the war.

You’ll be fine.

A low groan of the Solarwing activating the braking thrusters to slow trajectory and allow its hull to rest on the arms of the docking mechanism, and Symphony was collecting his little ragtag crew; Socket, Gasket, Weaselwing, and himself of course. He’d leave the rest on board to keep an eye on it and have extraction ready if this all went south.

Sing some songs and go home.

He had his trailing silks, the least flashy of his collection but that by no means meant they had been cheap, the peace offering of energon being carried before him by Socket and Weaselwing to extend a servo of friendship to this … Uh, Deathsaurus. He was a little concerned by someone with the word death as the start of their name. And their ship called Warworld. 

Activating his rotors to take him up off the ground, increasing his once tiny stature with how the silks fluttered and rippled out around him like the great fins of a fighter fish, to begin his descent down the gangplank to those waiting for him at its base.

“Those certainly don’t look cheap,” Dreadnought commented at the sight of the silks Symphony was wearing. His next statement was aimed at Deathsaurus. “Try not to step on them. That might not be taken well.”

Opting not to say anything, the warworld commander decided to just sigh in exasperation. Not at the vaguely veiled insult, but at the truth behind it. Symphony was smaller than Deathsaurus had anticipated. And while it wasn’t as though the winged mech didn’t have experience dealing with smaller mechs, the last thing Deathsaurus wanted to do was accidentally come off as insulting.

“Symphony. Thank you for coming,” the warworld commander said with a slight bow. He motioned to Nitrogear. “If you or your compatriots need anything, please do not hesitate to tell Nitrogear. He’s my secretary, of sorts, and knows this warworld quite well. And he is Dreadnought,” Deathsaurus motioned to tall, silver and blue mech. “One of the commanders of my...security detail.”

Though Dreadnought was at ease with the situation and appeared calm, Nitrogear was struggling to not stare at the silks that Symphony was wearing. The scrawny mech couldn’t recall having ever seen anything as delicate and expensive as them. Maybe in the occasional advertisement, but nothing more than that.

Noted.

Full removal. He’d find the memories in question, and sever all little red strings that connected them to the processor core itself. He couldn’t outright remove them as that would cause complications, but he could at least lock the files and move them to Short Term for Blinker’s processor to dump naturally for future information. 

That was easier, and safer, for all parties. It also meant that Blinker would just have little ‘fuzzy’ bits in his helm that he can’t focus on like grabbing smoke, rather than a great gaping void that felt wrong. 

“Wonderful. Well, as stated, I am here for quite some time so you are free to book yourself in when the time suits you, preferably with 48 hours notice to ensure no schedules overlap, and to ask for a few days off from Deathsaurus here afterwards. Aside that, you are free to come up to me if you see me wandering to ask any more questions you think of. And, of course, you are welcome to take those rust sticks with you.” 

His nervous twitching seemed to calm as the conversation wound down to a close. Blinker even managed a sincere smile at the mention of taking the rust sticks with him. He gave a nod of both affirmation and thanks.

“Of course. I will double check my own work schedule and then book myself as soon as I can confirm the proper time.” Blinker looked over to his commander questioningly. “...and the days off?”

“For whenever you need and as long as you need,” Deathsaurus replied without hesitation. He smirked faintly. “The crew could afford to learn to clean up after themselves for a while.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Blinker looked between the two quickly, appearing as though he was going to say something. After a moment, he shook his head. The smaller mech grabbed the rust sticks and darted out of the room. Deathsaurus watched them go with a quirked helm ridge. After a moment, he looked over to Trepan.

“He seemed...a bit more nervous than I had thought he would,” the warworld commander commented. He then shrugged as he leaned back in his seat. “I suppose that’s to be expected, however.”

The winged mech turned over the last bit of the rust stick they had been chewing on between their digits. He stared at the snack, fixating on the slow movements. Something had seemed a little off about Blinker, but Deathsaurus couldn’t place his digit on what.

There was nervous and then there was...whatever Blinker had been.

Nickel hadn’t been too happy about it. In fact, she had been quite displeased. Beyond upset, Tarn would put it if he was asked. Royally pissed off, if one was to ask Helex.

Nevertheless, she had carried out her duties to perfection -not without a thorough scolding- and Tarn was currently recovering from the surgery and trying to burn through the remnants of the anaesthetics. He sat up on the medical berth, staring blankly at some distant point while Nickel cleaned at put away her tools and instruments. The broken T-cog -and its numerous shards- lay on a nearby tray, completely useless and worn down. A reminder for Tarn not to delay his T-cog replacements so much, even if it was for the sake of gradually cutting off the number of T-cogs he needed.

“Giving up a shapeshifting addiction means you need to transform less, not delay your replacements until your T-cog shatters, Tarn. We’ve already been through this.”

Fortunately, the yellow-opticed mech seemed fixated for the moment.

“He reacts as soon as you knee him in the midsection,” Nitrogear commented for the fourth time, but then he continued. “I’m no medic, but I’m pretty sure there’s nothing vital located there.”

“There’s just a bunch of fluid lines, a pump, and...” Deathsaurus trailed off, poking lightly at his own middle to try and mentally map out his innards. Then something crossed his mind and he stopped. “T-cog.”

Pausing the video replay, Nitrogear looked up at his commander and blinked quickly.

“Wasn’t there a rumor that Tarn...?”

“Had problems with his T-cog? Yes.” Deathsaurus frowned in thought. “I didn’t think it was that bad, though. I didn’t hit him that hard.”

Looking over the winged mech’s massive frame, Nitrogear decided to keep any comments to himself. He knew that Deathsaurus could get a bit...rambunctious, if one were to put it politely. Putting it not so politely, Deathsaurus could be downright reckless if riled up.

“Even so, if it was his T-cog that broke, then that might explain why he was so quickly, uh, c-crippled,” Nitrogear pointed out. “I would imagine that would have to hurt. A lot. L-lot more than a torn f-fuel line.”

Humming quietly, Deathsaurus considered the possibility. It was a little unsettling to think that Tarn had such a devastating weak point. Then again, they had willing participated in the sparring and let Deathsaurus get close. Not many could say that they got close to the leader of the DJD and lived.

That didn’t change the fact that the masked mech had a weakness. One that could be easily exploited.

Sighing, the warworld commander looked over to Nitrogear. The smaller mech had been fiddling with a datapad nervously. It was fairly obvious that they wanted to be back in their little, monitor-filled room.

“If you had to bet on it, what are the chances that it was his T-cog that I broke?”

“I have to?” NItrogear asked, looking up at Deathsaurus as though the winged mech had slapped them. He made a short sigh and then shrugged. “N-n-ninety percent.”

Tarn couldn’t hide the relief washing across his field when they finally arrived at the entrance ramp of his ship without any unfortunate encounter. The last thing he needed was the warworld’s crew gossipping about how their commander had mauled the leader of the DJD in a sparring match. Or even worse, people actually inquiring about what had happened in sincere concern.

“Well… you accepted my help that one time… when we first found you fighting against those organics.” Tarn gave a weak chuckle that hurt a little somewhere in his mid-section. “I know the situation isn’t the same but… I felt it was only fair that I started accepting your help as well, right?” He gave the beastformer a grateful and hopeful look.

“I can manage on my own from now on, or I can call Tesarus or Helex for assistance.” He said, trying to sound reassuring. The warworld commander still had that look on his faceplates. A look that told Tarn that he was still evaluating if it was a good idea to leave him on his own. “Thank you. And don’t worry. I’ll be as good as new in no time. Also, don’t worry about Nickel.” Tarn alone was most likely going to be the sole recipient of her anger.

“Nitrogear needs you more than I do now.” Tarn waved the other mech off. “Let me know if he is okay, will you? A comm. will be enough.”

After giving Tarn one last look over, Deathsaurus decided that the masked mech could make it to the med bay in the Peaceful Tyranny. He waited until they had made it into the main part of the ship before pivoting. Though his wings still twitched occasionally, Deathsaurus felt considerably relieved that he had gotten Tarn back to the DJD flagship.

As he headed to one of the med bays of the warworld, Deathsaurus replayed the series of events that had led up to him seemingly crippling Tarn. No matter how many times he did, though, the beastformer couldn’t think of what he could have done. What strike he inflicted that could have been so severe to have lamed Tarn in the way that it appeared to have.

Besides, Deathsaurus had been taking care to pull his punches at the time. He hadn’t wanted to throw himself into the fight full force. Nor had he wanted Tarn to.

Well, perhaps he could ask Nitrogear if they noticed anything. They would be the only other ones that would have access to any security footage. Not to mention that, when you were as paranoid as Nitrogear, you had the tendency to notice minute details that others missed.

Of course, Deathsaurus would have to ask after Nitrogear was awake and coherent enough to understand what was being asked of them.

Entering the med bay, the warworld commander glanced around quickly. It didn’t take him long at all to find NItrogear. The scrawny mech was the only one in the med bay, at the moment, and Flatline was still hovering over them. The medic had his traditional, condescending glare on his features, and barely looked up when Deathsaurus entered.

“He should be waking up shortly,” Flatline stated sharply. “It was nothing more than his nerves getting the better of him...again.”

“I would hope so,” Deathsaurus replied, giving the medic a pointed look. After a moment’s thought, he activated his comm to send a quick, private message to Tarn. ::Tarn. I hope you were able to make it to your own med bay without incident. Nitrogear is fine and should be awakening soon. I appreciate your concern for his welfare.::

Though he was about to say something more, Flatline was interrupted when Nitrogear groaned softly and began to sit up. The medic scoffed and stepped away, giving Deathsaurus room. The winged mech shuffled towards Nitrogear, looking over them in concern.

“How are you feeling?”

“I had the worst dream,” Nitrogear groaned, rubbing his face and then side of his helm. “You let the DJD onto the warworld and then...then you and Tarn were sparring for some reason. And then-” The lanky mech stopped and looked at Deathsaurus with an accusing, but tired and knowing frown. “It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

One of these days -Tarn thought inwardly- he’d have to point out to Deathsaurus that his finials gave away every mayor thought that crossed his processors. While it was kind of endearing to watch, it could also be a major handicap during combat. Or maybe there wasn’t any need to do that. The beastformer had managed to achieve a position of power against all odds despite everything -Tarn reminded himself.

But enough musing about Deathsaurus finials.

There were more pressing matters.

“Alright,” Tarn sighed in defeat. Sometimes it was probably for the best to give in. Specially if it was going to give the winged mech some peace of mind. “I guess I could… lean on your shoulder. Just in case I lose my balance.” He finally agreed.

The tank stood up, not without a little help from Deathsaurus, and ran a quick system check to assess his own strength and injuries before they started walking out of the sparring room and back to the bay where the Peaceful Tyranny was docked. He just hoped they didn’t run into anyone of the warworld crew.

Though he took care to keep his pace slow for Tarn’s sake, Deathsaurus also disguised it as a pace one might have after a particularly rousing set of sparring matches. His grin, however, was had a definite tone of sincerity. He had worried that Tarn may have been stubborn and refused the assistance in getting back to the Peaceful Tyranny.

“I’m pleasantly surprised that you accepted my assistance,” Deathsaurus admitted as they walked down the halls. “I was a bit worried that I was going to have a very angry Nickel demanding to know why I let you return to the ship on your own.”

Chuckling lightly, the winged mech paused at the corner that they needed to turn. As casually as he could, Deathsaurus glanced around to ensure that there wasn’t anyone else in the hallway. Normally, he wouldn’t mind, but now was not the time to encounter someone who might want to have a conversation.

Fortunately, there was nobody, and the two were able to make their way to the DJD ship without delay. Stopping at the main entrance of the ship, Deathsaurus looked over to Tarn. While he was still leery about leaving the masked mech on their own, they had made it to the ship. Not to mention that Tarn had been adamant about keeping whatever it was that was causing them pain a secret.

So, as much it bothered him, Deathsaurus chose to respect Tarn’s wishes and give them the option of going to Nickel on their own.

Incredibly valuable alliance.

Deathsaurus had said that their alliance was of incredible value. Perhaps the transitive relation wasn’t applicable here, but that didn’t stop Tarn’s mind to run away with the idea and feel that himself was of incredible value. A sad smile formed behind his mask. How many times he had wished something similar had come out of Megatron’s mouth -anything resembling a compliment, really-, only for Deathsaurus to be the first to say it after all they had been through. The irony was almost cruel.

“I’m glad and… grateful to hear that.” Tarn replied, humbly. “And don’t worry. It can and it will be easily taken care of.”

Perhaps it was time to stop being a useless pile of expired parts and start taking worries and responsibilities off of Deathsaurus shoulders, like a good ally should do.

“I’ll… I’ll go back to my ship to see Nickel. The docking bay isn’t that far. I believe I can manage on my own. Meanwhile perhaps you should go and check on Nitrogear. It would help him to see a familiar face when he finishes rebooting.” He suggested. The mere idea of walking on his own was still painful, but it wouldn’t do any good to his reputation to be seen walking out of the sparring room needing the help of the beastformer to stand upright after their sparring session.

Still looking down worriedly at Tarn, his arms loosely crossed, Deathsaurus flicked his finials in response. At least Tarn, leader of the Decepticon Justice Division, seemed to understand and was appreciative of the importance their alliance with Deathsaurus had. For a brief moment, the winged mech had been concerned.

There was no missing the obvious sigh of relief that Deathsaurus ventilated when Tarn assured that whatever it was that ailed them could, and would, be easily taken care of. Now Deathsaurus just had to remember to pass that information along to Nitrogear. He was certain it would help calm down the jittery mech. ...a little, at least.

“Good. I am quite relieved to hear that,” Deathsaurus stated with a nod. When Tarn mentioned walking, though, a new look of alarm crossed the beastformer’s features. His finials shot straight up and wings briefly fluttered before calming.

“Are you sure you can manage? You could...barely walk just a few minutes ago. Are you certain your injury is that minor?” Deathsaurus was reluctant to point out that fact, but the last thing he wanted was Tarn trying to go on their own and making their injury worse. Quickly, the beastformer tried to devise a way that he could assist Tarn back to the Peaceful Tyranny without drawing attention to either of them. “You could...lean on my shoulder, if you needed. At least enough to brace yourself and take pressure off your injury.”

Scoffing quickly with a grin, Deathsaurus shrugged.

“It certainly wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to assist someone down a hallway or two. And afterwards I will go check on Nitrogear.”