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[CLOSED]

WHO: Vector Prime & Drift
WHERE: Negotiable
WHEN HOW ABOUT RIGHT NOW
WHAT: Vector needs to speak with Drift about the whole death business...
WARNINGS: Grim tidings.

Once Solus had allowed him a reprieve from the medbay, Vector had a long list of things that needed attention as soon as possible. One of them...may had been put off for a time, but even for one whose purview was time itself, things could only be stalled for so long. Eventually, all things had to be addressed.

Including the unpleasant ones.

Locating Drift was easy enough, and he waited until the mech had some time to himself before approaching. A spacebridge opened some distance away - though easily within view - and the golden mech stepped through, sighting the smaller warrior quickly enough.

"Drift."

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"We do. We tried to compromise, when the concept of a police force was created, but..."

Their terms were never met. Not in full. And so, their full support was never given.

Vector's wings ease, slightly, hearing the promise, and he nods in approval. "Thank you. Megatronus has his own ideas of what constitutes a just punishment, but...they do not always align with mine. Nor do mine with Prima's, or Solus', or...it is easier for us to handle our own."

"Compromise. With us or each other?"

He can't resist a bitter smile. "If he's anything like any Megatron I know, I can imagine what his punishment might look like." He can imagine it all too well.

"Both. And-Megatronus is harsh, but he is never outright cruel." Vector makes another face, exventing heavily before reaching up to rub his face. "He has tasked me to meet with him for...specific training sessions, after my performance with the Unicronian, but I trust that in the long run they will serve to aid me."

You know that tone when your 'trust' is more 'dearly hope', Drift?...

Yeah.

"I'm sure he always has some reason, too." Just like the Megatron Drift remembered, all too well.

Especially from their recent re-acquaintance. "Could be worse. He could make you train with Wing." It's probably not the best time for a joke, but Drift's not really socially deft.

"They had a saying on Earth, 'that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger'." Speaking of things you hope are true more than believe.

"Wing?" Some curiosity is there. "I haven't trained my blade against him, but..."

He trails off, considering the saying.

"I hope that is true," he decides. "If that is the case, I may actually be able to stand my ground against Megatronus, after that experience-!"

See? He can make jokes, too.

"I never got as far as blades with him. Couldn't even lay a hand on him."

He gives a shrug. "You should try Wing. He is one of yours. And it's his sword you have."

"We've flown together. I find it exhilarating." Vector smiles a little bit. "It may be good for me to test myself against him, or at least someone smaller..."

More so than Megatronus, at least. They're only so different in height, compared to him and the foe that had gotten the better of him...

Time continues to pass, though, and they've already gotten out of the Haven. They're nearing the Badlands at this point - a specific location Drift may or may not find familiar.

There is noise up ahead.

"Hnh. Of course." Trust Wing to always be one step ahead, one step above him. He'd never catch up. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered trying.

And trust Wing not to tell him about it. Apparently that 'no secrets' went only one way.

It was strange out here. Not the usual discomfort of the Badlands. He was used to that, by now, more used to it than probably anyone else here. And he dimly registers the noise, on edge, not really wanting to go any closer.

Because he's pretty sure he knows what's ahead.

There's something to be said about 'finding yourself'. Up ahead, Drift will find himself - locked in battle with Rodimus Prime. Despite the heat of the flames, despite how they seem to be everywhere- even touching them brings no heat. No discomfort.

They - or the others - may as well be ghosts, fighting a battle that has only one conclusion.

Vector stops a distance away, but easily within sight to observe, briefly looking down to judge Drift's state before looking back up to watch the fight. It will go, and it will go, and just at the final moment-

-the astrosecond before the final strike-

-Vector Prime's systems hum louder, turning in to a high pitch...and the world around them stops.

His steps slow, but they don't stop, not until he's on the verge, the slight rise of land above it. The flames flash over his armor, without heat this time. But he remembers. It's something he hadn't remembered before, but he remembers it now, ever neuron firing in response, a faded echo of pain and fire and despair.

That was worse than the pain, honestly, the confusion, the concern, throwing his blades in desperate defense. He could hear a faint echo of his own voice, begging for some explanation, asking Rodimus to stop, to explain.

And as Vector froze time, it stretches the sound, the roar of the flame and Drift's plaintive, never answered question: 'Why?.

It's a fair question. But they haven't come here to answer that one in specific.

"For this," Vector Prime explains, "you will need to see with my eyes."

He lowers down, kneeling as he reaches to place a hand across Drift's shoulders. Specifically, he makes so that his fingers touch the golden glyph, creating a physical connection.

Drift hadn't gotten an answer from Rodimus, either. He's begun to think asking questions to be futile.

He doesn't move as the larger mech moves down next to him, the weight pressing against his shoulders. He twitches as the hand brushes his glyph. It seems the only real, solid thing here.

And with that, with a slight warmth of energy, the world becomes even less solid. Or, rather...

A better way to describe it would be that Drift and Rodimus - the two before them - become less real than the world. They look the same, to be sure, but there's something off about them. They don't quite fit where they are, as though they were paper cutouts transposed to a different canvas.

Vector's voice is quiet as he speaks, matter of fact but...mindful of the fact that Drift may need a few moments to process what he's saying. If not in one way...then perhaps another.

"You are not of this world. For all the Lambda pulling you from yours was none of your fault, for all that we invite you to take part in shaping this world, it is not yours. This dimension is not yours, and so adrift, when you pass..."

The world moves at a crawl...but it moves. The moment passes.

"...you have no place to go."

He knows he's being shown something important. And it takes a moment to separate himself from what he's seeing: himself, dying, Rodimus, his only friend, face contorted into something like rage and pain....killing him.

But he listens. And tries to understand.

"We don't go home, even in death. We just...end."

"Unless we can catch you."

As he speaks, there's- something else there. As the life fades from Drift's optics, from his body, color fading - there's another force that can just barely be made out, there. Something that seems to cement him, just for a moment...

And then the body is just that. A body. While that something that is taken from it is held for a moment, separate, and then vanishes.

"If we can catch you, we can save you from that void. But it is not a certain thing," continues the Prime, reaching with his free hand for one of his swords again. "The Glyphless, for example, are out of our grasp - just as we have no ability to shield them from Unicron's influence, so we cannot even touch them in this manner."

There is regret there, and there is resignation. The sort that only comes with the painful realization that despite any effort made...

Some things are futile.

He watches for a moment in silence. It's a confirmation of what he wants to believe as much as something it strikes him as being too powerful for any mech to have.

"If you can catch us." That seemed like a pretty significant 'if'.

"Who else? Who else is unhelpable?" His mind is spinning.

"Sometimes, even those who are Marked are out of our grasp. I will show you."

Vector pulls his hand back, and there may be a moment of disorientation as the figures are just that, now - figures. Not cutouts, not somehow separate from reality, there's nothing else there but the body and the 'victor'...

And now, another spacebridge. This one does show a different locale, which, again - may seem familiar to Drift.

It's where Prism met his own end.

"Come."

Drift lingers, for a moment, watching himself fall, dead. Knowing it wasn't final, but still, the sneer of hot triumph on Rodimus's face tears at him. If this is supposed to be some punishment, this is it, so far. Others could make excuses about Unicron's control, but he couldn't. In that final moment, in that last moment, Rodimus would have, should have, felt something.

He leaves it at Vector's command, shuttering his optics against it as he moves to the other place, also familiar, also a landscape of death.

Sometimes he wonders if he'd ever see the world as anything else.

Deja vu. This time, without the walking. The spacebridge leads them through time and space to the exact minute of when Drift took care of the mad AI, and as before, they come with enough time to watch the final moments.

"Life is sacred. All life, even those who would use theirs to abuse others'. But..." Vector pauses, clears his throat, and continues, taking a look down at Drift. "I...find myself in full agreement with you in that Prism had to be stopped. It was Liege Maximo's responsibility to stop him, before he could hurt others as he did, and Liege..."

He makes a face.

"...I do not understand his logic," he confesses in a murmur, looking back up. As before, there's a hum of system power, and a halt before the end.

And as before, Vector leans down, placing his hand upon Drift's shoulders. It's all very much the same as he just saw, the difference between that which belongs and that which inherently does not.

"We did try to catch him," he murmurs. "We did our best. Despite what any of us may have thought of the matter..."

Another force, reaching for something, straining to catch something beyond words as it separates itself-

-but it's apparent that it simply slips through their grasp, practically dissolving in to nothingness.

"...it is not a fate we would willingly condemn any to."

"His logic. Megatronus's logic. You could see why we felt we had to take this up ourselves. Because killing is one thing." He shrugs. "But torture. Slow, deliberate infliction of pain for no other reason than enjoyment?"

He watches stony faced. If he is supposed to feel anything like remorse or regret for killing Prism, it's failing. He'd do it again.

"Prism condemned himself to it. And you can 'fix' death, sometimes here. But I'm betting even you can't undo what Prism did to Vandal. You can't heal her scars or give her back her optic, much less the other things he did to her. Even with all your power, you can't do that." They could talk all they wanted about their best and their power, but what good was it, really when it couldn't undo that?

Then it's a good thing that's not what Vector's after.

"I understand why you did it," he concedes. "I need you to understand why we make to stop it. Death is one thing, Drift, but severing someone completely from the existence? This is what you would condemn your enemies to, with no chance of atonement, or even reparation?"

As for the other question...

"If...I had learned about it, only some hours after it had begun. Yes, I could change it, and she would remember what she experienced only as a bad dream. By the time I knew..."

His wings...fall back, a bit.

"Omniscience is not one of my abilities."

"He made his choice." He sounds harsh enough, but there's a bit of uncertainty in his voice. Because he couldn't deny the possibility of redemption. It should be offered. Shouldn't it? Even to those who don't intend to take it?

"So? You're trying to say this is our fault for not letting you know."

A shake of his head. "The only fault it is is Prism's. He did make his choice, and he paid for it in the greatest way he possibly could. But in doing so, you took from him any chance he had left to make something good with his life. And perhaps he would have thrown it away - I wouldn't have been surprised - but you've taken so much more than a simple life, whether you knew it or not.

That is what I brought you here for. Why I have shown you all of this." The Prime gazes down at Drift, "You ask so many questions, you get so angry about not being told things - I felt that for this, you should know the full weight of what you've done, and what is done any time a Refugee is slain."

"I know." Or he does, now. But he can't undo that, and honestly, in the circumstances, after having seen Vandal, he probably wouldn't want to. He's not perfect and there's probably still more Decepticon in him than he'd want to admit.

He turns to face him, looking up. "So. Now what." Because there clearly has to be more than this. He's pretty sure a 'little chat' wouldn't satisfy Megatronus.

"Now we go back. I've shown you what I wanted to show you, and I trust you not to do it again."

This isn't a matter of assuming trust, of an arrogant belief - this is Vector meeting Drift's optics with utter seriousness. This is him needing to trust.

"I trust you to keep what you've learned here in confidence, save the understanding that death is not an easy force to counter. And to understand, Drift, that if you do kill another Marked, if you do force me to discipline you...

...it won't matter how much I agree or disagree with how necessary it was for your target to be stopped. I give you knowledge this time, but next time, I will give you an eternity."

Edited 2013-01-01 03:33 (UTC)

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