A/N: Look another story! And look at all this joy filled Pharma/Tarn stuff for me, yeahhhh nope lol that's not true its kinda dark, maybe XD I tried to make it nice but the two don't get along very well maybe next time XD S'amuser :9 That means enjoy ha ha

Also if you don't know, deca-cycle = roughly 3 weeks

All he could process through his CPU was the quota, that same damn quota he had to meet with every four blasted deca-cycles or something beyond bad would happen, even if he was short by one. T-Cogs, they're a very precious currency to the leader of the DJD and Tarn wasn't exactly the one to settle in for petty excuses on why he couldn't meet the deadline with all the requirements. Trade twenty five in for another deca-cycle of life and hardships of meeting the quota again, if he were lucky enough to keep the deal at twenty five, for Tarn sometimes feels the need to bump it up a bit seeing how he has no problems in doing so, claiming it to be a little push of "encouragement" for Pharma' already over stressed mind about the topic. But then he had to think about why this was so important, especially the most important part of the deal itself besides granting them all able to live and that was the safety of Delphi and all those who work and reside in the Autobot hospital.

Patients and staff alike, they were all labeled as equal prey under those five-well six if you counted Kaon's pet sparkeater-merciless brutes. They were the elite of the elites in the Decepticon ranks, the faction's own so called "justice division." The five professional sadistics who had turned hide-go-seek for traitors into a profession, a game of life and death, and the final outcome always being death. Pharma remembers with vivid memory how he had barely made it out alive and mostly functioning enough to continue pumping the energon in his systems during the last quota when he had been short three cogs; having to make himself the prime subject of Tarn's torturous punishments so his staff and patients could remain safely out of the brute's grasp.

But in the moments he was sure to die in, Tarn had stopped his savage assault on him and dragged his near lifeless body to the medical bay; tossing him over to Vos' care to "kindly" hammer the dents out of him and make sure nothing he had done had been completely fatal. After all, he has been remained many times before of how much their leader needed the little Doctor, even if it was more than the tank would like to admit himself. For both the surgeries when Vos couldn't perform them to also the "generous" donations of the forced quota he doesn't even remember how he got stuck into.

Collapsing down in the chair at his desk he took a moment to just aimlessly stare at the ceiling before bending down and pulling out the delivery box from the storage compartment in the floor next to the small work station. Kicking the panel closed he shoved all the datapads and utensils on the desk's surface to the side without a single care if any of it were to clatter to the floor or not. Opening the box he began to take out the contents inside, laying them out in neat single file lines as he started the rows from the bottom up so they wouldn't carelessly roller off the desk and break. Finishing his mindless task he counted up the sume of what he had and he was surely devastated at the numbers. Now that couldn't be right, could it?

Recounting his shock still remained with him, the panic excelling, rising and bubbling up in his chassis as he leaped to his pedes and commenced his frantic search around the small office, hoping and praying to Primus that he had simply just misplaced the rest. As he continued his search he recalled how the days were getting shorter and time was growing farther and farther from his reach, every tick of the chronometer taunting him all with that voice! His voice. As he desperating tried to find the missing components he was overflowing with questions, questions on how and why this had happened. That how was this even possible? How could he have lost so much in such a short amount of time, it didn't even seem possible! Not when he had been so careful...

Slowly slumping down onto the floor in a corner he had found himself in, he curled up to himself, ready to cry, ready to mourn for whoever's life was going to be taken due to his failure, his only wish it could be his own just to get it done and over with but he knew for a fact that was never going to happen. Especially not when he was still worth something to them. To him. How could he have been so careless...? This big of a mistake was surely not just going to get one of his friends or patients slaughtered before him, but it was probably also going to raise the numbers for the next quota, again! He wasn't really sure how much more he could take before he was going to snap, how much more longer before he was going to fall apart, the pieces of himself shattering like delicate pieces of glass being smashed against the floor.

Without even a given warning he was jerked away from his thoughts when he heard a low amused humming reach his audio receptors causing him to snap his attention in the direction it was coming from. Though the noise was leisurely drifting its way around his office he recognized the smug tone to it, the deadly voice that was stringing together those beautiful notes of death. The same voice that could easily set his spark to implode-literally-if set to the correct frequency , the death would probably be a slow one, just for the entertainment of watching him suffer, as if his current suffering wasn't already enough. Watching the doorway the large tank-former strolled in at his own leisure, humming each note with precision and Pharma felt a slight ping of pain hit his spark, a warning? Or was he toying? But of course, it was Tarn...

"Oh, what seems to the matter little Doctor?" The much larger mech hummed smugly as he circled around the office, examining every nook and cranny he laid his optics upon, only taking a glance at the T-Cogs that was sorted out on Pharma's desk, as if they were nothing important, just a decoration. The flyer didn't reply, didn't know what to say that would spare himself or anyone else from a cruel blast of the Decepticon's dual fusion cannon, so he remained silent. Stopping dead in his tracks right in front of the Autobot Doctor the deadly notes ceased to continue on causing Pharma to look up, his curiosity getting the better of him as he both did and didn't want to know why the tyrant had stopped. But he shouldn't have looked. Optics locked on each other's gaze, he for some unknown reason found it horrifying to see himself reflected in those crimson red lenses. Maybe it was because he could see himself as a monster as well in the reflection, two monsters working together...What a tragic thing, though was he even surprised anymore? "Well, are you ever going to tell what's the matter dear Pharma?"

He flinched at his own designation, somehow feeling it as if it were tangible, like it was a bombing occurring on his character at moment it left Tarn's mouth. Yet he still remained silent, quiet and unsure. Again he flinched back when a servo extended out to him, his automatic thoughts were to turned scared as he was expecting to receive a hit or some harmful action to his character as a punishment for not answering, however it merely stayed put where it was in front of him, palm up. Was he offering him a hand up? Maybe he was, or maybe he was just going insane more than he already was, maybe this was all just a daydream, all in his head...Primus he wished that were the truth. It wouldn't be the first time however, Tarn can use kind words, and had treated him nicely often enough as a reward but that side of the DJD leader was probably the side that frightened him the most...

And Tarn waited, silent and patient as Pharma continued to just stare at his open servo within easy reach of the CMO. He was a very patient mech and would wait as long as it take for the Doctor to just take his servo already so he can haul him to his pedes, even if someone were to walk in, to scream in fright and panic, to call in reinforcements of his being there. Really he could care less though. Though after what seemed like forever Pharma took it and he did just as he planned to, hauling the smaller mech up to his pedes without a single hesitation or problem in doing so. There was a pause and a soft huff from the Autobot and he just assumed he was finally going to get an answer from him.

"I..." Pharma paused as he recollected his thoughts for a moment on the situation he was in and going to be in. "Lost the other half of my shipment...What's on the desk is all I have..." He had confessed, not daring to rip his gaze from the floor he waited for the monster of a mech to do something, to say something that had worse than venom on it. He simply waited for something to start hurting, but all he was given was a soft hum as a reply and his wings gently pinched, a soothing notion? Or was he planning to rip them right off his frame so he couldn't get away?

"This is what you're so upset about, Doctor? The quota?" Tarn seemed to laugh at his misery and Pharma frowned, crossed his arms and pouted silently. "Oh please, you didn't lose the other half, you're such a forgetful mech Pharma, you gave half of it in advance." Frowning even more Pharma didn't recall doing such a thing, especially since he never wanted to risk his staff finding out what he was gambling with, the action didn't sound like him or his doing...But seeing how Tarn was saying it and wasn't even angered in the least or trying to scam him for more, he believed it. Sighing he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration to this little event and he strolled on over to his desk, putting the cogs back into the delivery box before someone saw that was otherwise, not the two of them. As he continued to put the cogs back into their rightful box he felt as if someone were breathing down his neck and he wasn't far from the truth as Tarn was right behind him. Shadow overcasting him he glanced back as a servo clasped onto his shoulder; he could almost feel the smirk on the monster's face. "Besides Doctor, even if you didn't meet the quota, you have other uses to make up your worth." And with that the tank-former left leaving everything but Pharma unscatched.

Of course he did. He always will have worth to make it up to them for something were to happen to the package. Whether he was short or one broke on the way, he was always worth something.

To them.

To Tarn.