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MegaRod Week 2023 Day 7: Free Day / { AU : Pacific Rim }

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“This is your last chance Megatron. We have a Jaeger for you, but if you can't find someone you're drift compatible with in this next batch of pilots, you'll be dropped from the program and sent back to prison.”

Starscream's words continued to echo through Megatron's head even hours later as she laid supine on her too-small bunk and stared at the bare concrete ceiling above her. When Megatron had first been offered the deal by Optimus to work off her life debt to society at large by fighting back against an enemy that mattered, she'd leapt at the chance. The thought of spending her remaining days rotting away in a cell block before eventually being executed was bad enough before, but after the rift had begun spitting out kaiju at a rate that was no longer feasible to counteract? The idea was intolerable. That left her with only one feasible path before her: finding a new co-Pilot.

Starscream sighed and dropped into her chair with enough drama (and momentum) for it the wheel around into Bumblebee's desk. Bee didn't look up from the paperwork it was staring at (and actually pointedly swiped to another page, the nerve) which prompted her to sigh again, louder this time. When that still didn't evoke the proper reaction Starscream desired, she decided to rectify things by lashing out with a stiletto and kicking Bumblebee's cane from where it was hanging off the edge of its desk to send it skidding across the floor.

“Look at me.”

Bumblebee instead put its face in its hands for a long moment before tiredly lifting its head to glare at the lawyer that it swore was responsible for half of the issues that took place on this base. “Yes?? What is it, what could possibly be more important than—”

“I have a solution for the two thorns in our sides.”

...That was absolutely important enough. Bee's mouth shut with a click at the speed it was silenced, but it tried for Starscream's ego's sake not to look too pleased or relieved. Keen-eyed as she was, the attempt meant nothing to her, and Starscream's smug aura instantly multiplied by four. Bee tried to salvage the situation by squinting at her dubiously.

“...Both of them? You don't mean—”

“—I certainly do.”

Bee narrowed its eyes at her more seriously this time. “The last time Megatron piloted alongside an Autobot—”

“—They had exemplary teamwork that benefitted all of humanity in the fight against the kaiju right up until Optimus' noble sacrifice-- may she rest in peace— which frankly put, had nothing to do with Megatron.”

Bumblebee's expression crystallized into something icy, as it always did when someone brought up the previous head of the Jaeger Program that Bee now headed itself or the circumstances around her death.

So that's how Megatron found herself standing off to the side in partial shadows, watching as what could possibly be the last group of rangers in the world filed into the room, all desperately looking to be chosen for one of the few Jaegers that remained.

A sea of faces that seemed infinitely younger than Megatron's own swam before her; introductions and reunions between strangers and old friends alike all taking place at the same time as everyone waited for Colonel Bumblebee to arrive and begin the trials. The Autobot rangers had always been a colorful cast of characters, which ironically led to none of them standing out at a glance when they all grouped together, and it was only the gravity of Megatron's position and the choice she would have to make here that kept her eyes from glazing over. Unfortunately even that couldn't entirely stop her thoughts from wandering.

Their governments had never once suffered from a lack of firepower in the war against kaiju— no, the problem had always been a shortage of capable rangers who were both capable of fighting as well as drift compatible, and while there may have been plenty of the former, the latter was a harder trait to find by miles. It was no easy task to step one foot into someone's mind even as they took a step into yours. Megatron, in all her years of (exceptionally) piloting jaegars, had successfully initiated and maintained a drift with half a dozen of co-pilots. That was more than every other ranger in the Jaeger programs— both sanctioned and unsanctioned— except for Optimus Prime.

Optimus had been the one to first lay the foundations for the program that had eventually lead to multiple imprisoned Decepticon paramilitary forces working off their life sentences alongside the government-sanctioned Autobot program in the war against the unknown, and had done so with Megatron has her co-pilot— two old enemies now fighting together, side-by-side, leading the way by example.

While Megatron's days of using the chaos of a new and unknown enemy to steal Jaegers and raze capitals to the ground in the name of establishing a new world order were behind her (and something she now regarded with no small amount of shame), she did not relish in the governmental leash she found wound around her neck, and struggled constantly against the urge to tear and break until she was free.

Drifting with Optimus Prime changed everything. For the both of them— and for the better, she liked to believe. It was something she would begrudgingly admit about herself, but in regards to Optimus, she couldn't say for certain. She had never asked, and the other had never offered. There had been a lot of things between the two of them that went left unsaid— they'd never felt the need to, and she'd thought that that had been proof of the strength of their bond. The drift had revealed all.

Maybe that's why Megatron had been blindsided by the cancer diagnosis, and everything that followed.

Optimus hadn't been the first person that Megatron had drifted with, but there was no denying their compatibility had been the best. For Optimus to have hid it for so long, for Megatron to only find out when—

Clack-clack.

Silence fell across the crowd like a shroud and Megatron's eyes focused on as Bumblebee as it entered the room, Starscream a smug parody of a shadow that stood only just far back enough not to be immediately labelled as insubordinate, but close enough to its side to spark ire in some of the more loyal Autobots present. Starscream made sure to go out of her way and seek out Megatron's gaze just to lock eyes with her and shoot her a scornful glance, as if she were some disobedient child that needed minding. She couldn't help but suck her teeth, but any other uncharitable thoughts directed towards her wiley and traitorous ex-second-in-command-turned-federal-lawyer were dashed across the rocks before they could fully form as a third figure, somehow previously hidden behind them chose that moment to break away from them and attempt to dissolve into the crowd, shooting a nasty look at the two makeshift leaders of their apocalypse-stopping cause as she went; a difficult mission to accomplish when one looked like a living flame, crowned with bright vermillion hair that was shorn close on both sides and styled into a gravity-defying mohawk that stood out even amongst the rest of the Autobot eyesores.

Something about the ranger's appearance tickled at old and secondhand memories, but Megatron could only wonder at how the ranger expected to maintain such a hairstyle underneath a helmet without having to consistently and immediately style it upon suit removal, which seemed to Megatron to be an almost a ridiculous waste of the luxury of time in their current situation.

As if she could somehow sense the weight of judgement upon her, the potential pilot found her eyes from across the room and levelled her with a look so unexpectedly hostile that it made her pause emotionally even as she made her way from the wall towards the training mats where their gambit of tests would take place. Megatron was used to the typical distant, impersonal anger she received from the rank and file Autobot forces, and this was not that. This pilot knew her, or someone she had killed, and was now taking part in the same selection that would make or break the rest of Megatron's life-- or what little she had left of one. Somehow, from the embittered look in that flaming stranger's eyes, she knew the other was aware of the same.

“The last time that Rodimus piloted a jaeger—”

Starscream loudly stomped her heel against the bare concrete floor and then promptly crossed her legs once more, as if she were simply repositioning herself and didn't just do something as petty and childish as stomping to interrupt someone. Bee could hardly believe at times that this was how it was spending the height of its military career.

“...We lost Deadlock,” Starscream conceded, and she did actually manage to sound contrite about that particular loss, even as Bumblebee rolled its eyes and corrected her, “Deadlock, Drift, whatever she called herself— the point is that she was an incredible asset to the program and her loss was massive blow to the cause. Add in the fact that their jaeger was turned into scrap, and the fact that Rodimus managed to somehow finish the fight on her own and pilot the damned thing back to shore herself is the only that kept her from being booted entirely— well, that and the fact that Optimus named her as her successor. In everything but name, of course— she only left her with the jaeger she piloted, while you got the kingdom stretching as far as the eye can see. Not that there's much to see, nowadays, but still a much better deal, in my opinion. Not that you seem to agree.”

Bumblebee didn't flinch, but it was a damn near thing, which it knew Starscream was looking for. Bumblebee tried to take a calming breath and internally begged for its voice not to crack as it often did when it was stressed. “...Optimus saw that Rodimus was better suited for fieldwork than a leading position, and I'm honored to have been chosen by her to—”

Starscream made a mean little humming noise in her throat and interjected once more.

“See you say that, but I don't really get the feeling that you are honored, though, is the thing—”

—which is as much as she managed to voice before Bumblebee finally snapped and picked up its cane and began shaking it at her. “We don't even know if they're drift compatible!”

Starscream danced out of the way of its swings on too-light feet for someone who was wearing six inch heels and cackled in the face of Bee's outburst. “Do you hear yourself? This is Megatron we're talking about. With Optimus and 'Drift' gone, she's the best in the business. Megatron does not ride the drift, she steers it with an iron fist. If there's anyone left on this planet that can put up with your red-headed problem pilot, it's Megatron. Honestly, I can't believe you hadn't thought of this already.”

With that, Starscream reached out and caught the end of Bee's cane on the next swing, and despite the air of levity she steadfastly mantained towards their situation, the white-knuckled grip she held on its cane belied her seriousness on the topic. Not that Bumblebee ever doubted her for a moment— if there was one thing Bee could always rely on, it was Starscream's unthwartable, unshakable desire to not just survive, but to live.

The two of them held eye contact for a long moment before Bee finally sighed the kind of sigh that left one half-curled in on one's self from the weight of the responsibilities bearing down on one's shoulders. Its cane was released and Star closed the distance between them, tracing the round curve of Bee's cheek with a carefully manicured hand before resting it under its chin, tilting its head up with her fingertips to resume eye contact between the two once more.

...It was a good plan, even if Bumblebee desperately wished it wasn't.

“...Fine, put Rodimus on the roster with the other candidates— but don't mention it to either of them. The last thing we need is for them to make things more difficult for us on purpose now.”

Starscream's featherlight contact shifted to a firmer grip as she patted Bee on the cheek in some mockery of pride and approval. “Already done. I had Rodimus added to the list before our meeting; I knew we'd see eye-to-eye on this—”

—Which is perhaps also why Starscream didn't see the cane coming that time until she was already yelping as it made contact with her shins.

Fighter after fighter fell before Megatron.

It was a strangely familiar sight after so long. She hadn't gone through this process when she'd first joined up with the Autobots— her co-Pilot had never been up for debate at the time— but it was one she had experience prior, when her Decepticons first formed. Here and now, however, with winded Autobots at her feet instead of once-loyal followers, the scene was perhaps more reminiscent of the jaeger-on-jaeger violence once wrought between their factions instead of a friendly spar meant to determine drift compatibility.

Either way they fell to her staff, one after another; their prides wounded, but otherwise unharmed.

Not to say they were unskilled— in fact, the exact opposite was true. Every single candidate she fought was capable in their own right. Only the best of the best had the pleasure of being chosen to even have a chance at becoming a ranger for the Jaeger program, and they all showed it with every move they made when they clashed with her, but the fact of the matter was that Megatron was better. Better, and burdened by the fact that she had yet to feel that special spark of potential compatibility with any of them. Oh sure, there was a handful of them that she might be able to forge a connection with strong enough to drift, but what she and the rest of the world needed more than a 'might'.

The moment the bouts had begun, Megatron had focused all of her attention on the match at hand, but she could swear that she could feel a mounting tension that caused the ambient temperature in the room to rise. One by one, bodies continued to hit the floor, and with each one, Megatron felt her temper began to waver and fray at the edges. The agitation she projecred only seemed to be amplified and reflected back at her by the remaining potential rangers still waiting for their turn, energy roiling like a volcano preparing to erupt.

“Rodimus, you're up next.”

It wasn't until after the flame-red candidate from before stalked out onto the mat that Megatron realized she had been holding her breath. She could not tell from where the abstract anticipation filling her sprang, only that it was there and intense enough to set her teeth on edge. Rodimus greeted her with an expression that was closer to a snarl than a smile, but Megatron cared not— especially not when the sound of this opponent's name clicked into place in her mind like the missing piece of a puzzle she never knew was there, unleashing a veritable flood of fragmented memories that did not belong to her.

The ghostly imprint of the shape of Optimus' mind inside her own was inescapable; thoughts and sensations once spread across two-become-one now echoed strangely through her hollow body and left her with a strange, lingering taste behind her teeth and an aching hole inside of her grey matter shaped like her that could never be filled. There wasn't a day that went by where Megatron did not miss Optimus, did not miss the brilliance of her conviction, the strength of her will, of her optimistic faith in humanity to not only turn the tides of the war, but to maintain the peaceful unity humanity had found in the face of it, even after the war was won. Because winning was never a question with Optimus, it was something she believed was possible to her very core. She was perhaps the only person in the world who'd had the room in her heart to genuinely call Megatron her friend despite all that Megatron had done to both to her, personally, and the world at large. Optimus was the best thing to ever happen to Megatron, and Megatron was the reason she was dead.

Somehow, the look in Rodimus' eyes said as much the same.

Megatron would later try to claim that unexpected memory cascade was the reason that Rodimus scored the first point against her.

Whether or not that was true didn't matter, because eight hours later found them both getting strapped into a newly rebuilt jaeger made from the wreckage of both Rodimus and Megatron's prior mechs named the Lost Light, where Megatron discovered just how exactly Rodimus went about fitting her hair into a ranger helmet. Sure, the two of them may have snarled and sniped at each other the entire time, but never once did they fall out of sync. Ghosts lingered in the drift between them, but maybe, this time, they wouldn't remain unaddressed. Only time would tell, and time was hard to come by at the end of the world.

“—Time, and maybe a little bit of elbow grease, sure, I'm no easy lay— Well? Actually— Nevermind— anyway, sorry for the interrupt, but you're thinking maudlin thoughts way too loudly and it's completely harshing my vibe. I'm going to be real honest: I'm in a frankly terrible mood and I am absolutely not interested in going rabbit hunting today, thanks.”

Megatron cut a frigid glance towards her new co-pilot, who was still wiggling her helmet around on her head and making a ridiculous show of it. “Apologies only work if your intended recipient knows you mean it. I since I can tell that you don't, you can save that for someone who gives a damn.”

Rodimus snorted something that could have almost been a laugh before grinning joylessly at Megatron.

“Too bad, so sad, you're getting one anyway because I am a paragon of humility and leadership and my jaeger means my rules— and the rules in here are that everyone gets an apology, even if you really really don't want to give one, or even if you really really don't want to receive one. It's about thr principle of the matter, and principles... matter. So! Sit back, relax, and get ready enjoy your trip on the Lost Light because— and I'm going to need you to listen real carefully now— ladies and gentlemechs, this is your Captain speaking, our flight tonight should be around an hour and a half with a tailwind, but we are expecting some turbulence this evening—”

It was of course at that moment that all of the sirens in the Shatterdome began to wail their warning that a new kaiju had crawled its way through the breach and was now making its way to shore.

“—Ah, fuck.”

Megatron just sighed, bemoaning her own inability to even pinch the bridge of her nose thanks to her own helmet being in the way. Rodimus just let out an awkward little laugh and then cleared her throat in a bid to regain any ounce of seriousness she may or may not have held before that moment. It did not work.

“Yeah, me too Megs—”

“Do not call me th—”

“Aaht! Not now, yell at me later. Right now we have a planet to save, people to rescue, and monsters to rip limb from limb— so let's get this show on the road!”

Megatron might have been wrong; maybe prison was the better option.

#THIS ONES SO GOOOOOOD #starbee cracking me the fuck up. they suck #friend art

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