"Hi" - Pharma smiling, sitting on the edge of recharge berth. One half of his faceplate have cracked, and through the metal seeps red from the decease energon, that is flowing in slender streams down his cheek, and heavy drops are hanging from his chin. "Missed you"
He holds out his mutilated hands, Ratchet tries to shrink back, realizing after a klik that he can not even move. Instant analysis of his system - and the sensor shows a complex chemical composition, somehow have got into his inner energon tanks.
"A small gift from me" - jet tilts his head to the side, licks with the tip of the glossa muddy drops from his lips and smiles, revealing cracked dental plates "In the name of our meeting"
He leans closer, and Ratchet feels sweet, rotten smell of red energon and rusted metal - the smell of death, that wraps Pharma from head to foot, soaks into him thoroughly. He tries to move his head when jet brings closer to his face disfigured arm, from which protrudes snippets of wires and something is dripping, but he can not even move a neck.
Pharma laughs.
"Oh, Ratchet. Seems that you have lose"
He hangs over the medic and whispers, almost touching his lips with his.
"You have lose, and now it's your turn to fall. Fall into the long, long revenge …"