"Answer me this. What is it about Phase Sixers? Hmm? Why this tedious tendency to rebel?" Upper-class Tarnian and barely a hint of her original accent left. Rich and smooth, even through the helmet, there was just something about it that made Tarn easy to listen to. "Take Kardama..."

Well, Kurokage or 'Black Shadow', as he'd called himself, but his real name had never been forgotten. Not when it was fitting traitors died with it and not the names they wanted to be known as.

Kardama was a wreck of a man compared to his former glory and it showed they had fun with him. He'd tried to run then fight- they always did. It'd been a fun one, and now the half armoured and literally ruined man sat in the 'Chair' that was Kaon's HammerSpace Item. The blind man stood a bit behind it, hands very much off the controls.

Tarn continued to talk. "He was an extraordinary Decepticon, he was! Handpicked by Megatron to raze planets ahead of the cyberforming process..."

He'd razed the planet of Rigel IV himself; three billion organics on the cusp of spacefaring with weapons to match. Only one of the 'pure warbuilt' could have pulled that off, even without the Phase Six treatment and a squad or three waiting as back-up. "... He was all but guaranteed a seat on the Conclave."

Tarn sighed, armour creaking as she shook her head slightly with disappointment. "Until, that is, he accepted half a billion Shanix from the Autobots in exchange for blowing up a fleet of Decepticon War Worlds. At least now he's-"

"Er, Tarn...?" Helex ventured, the massively over-armoured woman nodding towards their victim. "Think he's still alive."

"I do believe you're right, Helex. When he stopped sobbing and begging for his life, I assumed-" There was just the slightest of shrugs as Tarn took several steps back, prompting the rest of them to do so. A harsh yank on the chain from Helex saw the Pet move as well. There was more fun to come, after all. "Well, I assumed that was that. Kaon- one last jolt, then release him."

Kaon didn't really need to touch the HSI, but according to the newest member, it was 'easier'. Personally, Vos thought Kaon liked being up close and personal when using the Chair. Electricity crackled along the coils and Kardama convulsed with a scream.

And then, without much ceremony, he was sent crashing to the ground, prostrate before Tarn as the Chair vanished back into HammerSpace. From the tilt of Kaon's head, and the wag the Pet's tail, the man was grinning behind the stern looking helmet.

Silence reigned for about three seconds before the sound of something filled the air, and Kaon spoke up, half looking around. "What on Cybertron's that sound?"

Huh. So, Kaon'd never heard it before, then. Hands on hips and never once taking her gaze from the pathetic excuse for a Cyberganic before her, Vos spoke up, if only to prompt Tarn. "Is that what I think it is?"

"That is very much the saddest sound of all. A T-Cog ceasing to function."

"What-" If it weren't for the fact Vos knew Kaon to have a decent understanding of their anatomy, she' have thought him stupid.

"But don't worry," Tarn continued as if the man hadn't anything. As if the sheer power for that to happen was something trivial. "I'll play some music to take his mind off the paralysis."

"Of course you will," Vos muttered as Tarn knelt next Kardama, the man trying and failing to push himself up. Of course, the mutter drew the man's attention and Vos lifted her head, somehow managing to emote the feeling of a smug smirk through her helmet at the confusion in those dull brown eyes.

She could have answered it. But speaking to someone about to die, someone who didn't understand, had long ceased to be amusing.

Anyway, Tarn had a spiel for this. "Vos is something of a linguistic purist. She only speaks the Primal Vernacular- what you philistines call Old Cybertronian. I-"

"Just... get it... over with-" Kardama croaked out, clearly not caring for what Tarn was talking about.

Well this is a first, Vos thought with a snort. Typically Tarn got the whole spiel out. But, if he wants to hasten his death, then fine by her.

"Hmm," Tarn tapped her chin in thought, and Vos could almost see the woman's mental shrug. "I don't think you quite understand how this works. Our job is to hunt down Decepticons, who by their actions or inactions, have frustrated the realization of Megatron's goals, and introduce them to a world of unremitting pain."

Now she just sounded put upon, like a caretaker scolding their Ward, which meant-. There, the music had started. Beautiful and uplifting with the deep, resounding beat of a wardrum threaded throughout with undertones of classical techno. A triumphant song of the glories of the days of old, dedicated to Prima herself.

"Now, given that you were only partially melted by Helex, and only partially crushed by Tesarus..."

There was just something to watching them scream, beg, and pound away at the glass as Helex fired up her HSI of a mobile smelter, or the way they screamed as Tesarus slowly fed limbs through her grinding blades in such a way which allowed for an up close and personal inspection of the flesh-and-metal of their bodies.

It was a good thing Cyberganics didn't bleed out as easily as organics.

"...I'd have thought it was obvious." But they all knew some traitors needed to be reminded. More to the point, the more Tarn spoke, the more Kardama trembled. "But take heart: If word of your preposterously gruesome demise reaches just one Decepticon and terrifies them into staying the course, then all the pain you've suffered would have been worth it."

"But- the war's over," the man croaked out in an unsteady voice.

"But the war's what? The war's over?" Tarn repeated. Placing two fingers under his chin, she lifted his head so the red optical glass of the facemask met dull brown eyes. "Oh, Kardama, that's sweet, but-" The hand moved to stroke the injured face tenderly. Keen eyes caught the flinch and Vos wished she'd shoved the facemask's spikes in deeper.

But now was Tarn's time. "The war won't be over until Megatron says so; when he presides over a society so peaceful that the very notion of conflict is literally inconceivable. As he writes in 'Towards Peace'-

"My weapon is my burden. A reminder of the path I was forced to take. When the word 'weapon' is emptied of meaning; when the purpose of a weapon is impossible to grasp; when the rejection of my weapon is of no significance to anyone other than myself... only then shall I remove it from my arm. Because only then will I have earned the right to rid myself of my burden."

-I could continue, but-listen! Have you noticed I've stopped the music?"

At some point, she'd also stopped stroking the traitor's face, who'd fallen face first into the dirt again. As he tried to push himself up, his trembles turned more violent and what little remained in his stomach made itself known in a show of blood and energon.

Naturally, it stank. Kardama barely had time to process it before Tarn was speaking again. "Is that significant? Why yes! Yes it is."

"Urk-?"

Under the helmet, Vos's mouth curved into a cold smile as she listened and watched. Her Amica was in fine form today.

"You're thinking 'I've seen what the other four can do, but their leader, with her fine music, wonderful literary quotations, double fusion canon- what makes her so special?'"

Vos literally felt her eyes roll into the back of her head. 'What, attaching a double fragging fusion canon to the armour and needing a full overhaul of all the systems to do so and then recovering in less than a week isn't special?' But she didn't voice the thought, not when Tarn was working her 'magic'.

"Here's the thing," Tarn continued on, now half crouched beside the Phase Sixer. "They say I can talk people to death. 'Weaponised conversation', they say. 'I don't know', I say. 'Sounds a bit pretentious'." That drew chuckles from the watching Decepticons, but Tarn ignored them. "'Maybe so', they say, 'but you can modulate the timbre of your voice so it falls into step with the listeners spark-pulse'. 'Well', I say, 'there is that'. 'And then, by gradually lowering your voice', they say, 'you can coax a spark into giving up'. That's what they say. What do you say?"

"I'm so, so sorry-" Kardama whispered. In less than a second, Tarn leapt away.

They didn't need a warning; they all knew what happened when a Phase Sixer's spark stopped. True to form, Kardama exploded in green light and a spray of body parts and gore. Once the smoke cleared, little remained but a smoking crater and what gore and body parts had been thrown clear. With little thought, Vos de-armoured with a crack of her knuckles.

"Bored now," Tesarus grumbled as she slowly de-armoured in a way that could almost be called art as it folded back into the thick, silvery bands -bracelets- at the wrists. Even without it, the dark-haired, green-eyed woman was huge. Easily close to 6'4, only matched by Helex's impressive height of 6'5, to say nothing of the 7-foot both reached in the armour. "Who's next on the List?"

"It's Megan. 'Overlord'," as far as she knew anyway. She was no Kaon or Tarn to have memorised the whole thing. Back to front and upside down in Tarn's case.

"That's all very well, but we've got to find her first," Tarn said with a roll of her shoulders, almost all of the armour gone save the mask and claws. Why became clear soon enough as she picked at it with the tip of a claw. At least it wasn't her face.

"I'm still scanning for her energy signature," Kaon said before Tarn could give the order. "The next target's in the Kol system. Clemency."

"That's-" Vos stiffened, looking directly at her Amica. Tarn might not do favouritism, but this-. "What, in Megatron's name, did he do?"

"He lived, Vos." Tarn sounded very, very tired and very, very disappointed. "He lived."

"Of course. Let's go collect him." Primus have mercy on his spark. Vos -Freya- knew Tarn -Danielle- would not.

Halfway back to the ship, Tesarus ended up collecting some local flora for her organic studies. Frankly, no-one cared what Caja did on her downtime, as long as it kept her entertained.