A Compromise

[mccrane]

Who: McCrane and Megatronus Prime
What: McCrane approaches the Firstforged to attempt to reach an understanding regarding the Police Force.
When: Slightly backdated.
Where: The old police station in Megatronus Prime's quadrant.
Notes: None!




McCrane felt as ready as he was going to be for this confrontation.

Granted, he hoped it was not going to come to actual conflict. He'd received good advice from more than one individual on how to approach the demi-god, but he didn't know what to expect despite that.

For now, he carried two guns: his Shotgun, familiar and trustworthy, and the new, beautiful Rifle given to him by Gunmax that he kept polished and pristine.

Megatronus Prime was a warrior. McCrane had seen the calls for fighting in his Arena, and he had seen the way the other had handled the monster threat. If Megatronus had been built for any purpose: it was war.

McCrane, on the other hand, considered himself a pacifist. He'd been programmed to find the most efficient, most peaceful way of diffusing difficult situations....He just happened to find that the quickest, most efficient way of diffusing difficult situations often involved shooting someone.

This time, he didn't want to do that--but it was best to be prepared.

It felt better to be prepared as he crested the hill just before the police station and looked down towards it. There, Acolytes were still calmly disassembling the building that he'd worked so hard on, taking it piece by piece back towards Megatronus Prime's temple in the distance. They trailed a line that stretched between the two--trodding a pathway that should have been a road.

He started toward it.

~

Comments

[megatronicpolarity]

On a hill situated on the opposite side of that which was not quite a police station anymore, Megatronus had seated himself atop a rocky outcropping that may as well have been a lawn chair from the way he was lounging on it.

Even warriors needed a little time off now and then, and there was nothing quite as enthralling to him as the reduction of a structure to its component parts. Breakdown was the natural order of things. This was simply a chance to observe the process on fast-forward.

Conflict of some form was almost certainly inevitable at this point – they were at odds on the issue of the police force, and neither seemed interested in compromising their position. (Whether that was wise on either of their parts remained up for debate.) For that matter it was hard to avoid an encounter with the mean end of the Prime's temper on the best of days. Aggression and arrogance were hallmarks Megatronus' attitude and interactions among his fellow Firstforged and the Refugees alike. Better, then, to hope that their conflict didn't turn physical. Even without Megatronus' army of Acolytes to back him it wouldn't be a fair fight.

One of the members of his entourage, alerted by another Acolyte further down the dis-assembly line, noticed the approaching Refugee first. It relayed the message to its master via comm, and Megatronus' gaze shifted towards him.

"I suppose I can't accuse you of cowardice. You're taking quite a risk stepping foot on my territory, McCrane," he called out when the mech was close enough.

Didn't he threaten his life recently? Or was that another of Prima's Refugees? He did tend to look very poorly upon those who bore the white Glyph in particular...

[mccrane]

He would have missed the Firstforged entirely, if not for the attention payed by the Acolytes--and the sudden voice coming from the rocks.

Megatronus Prime seemed almost at home within them--comfortable amid the uncomfortable, stubborn and unmoving. That alone was enough to remind McCrane how very real fear could be, and that was before taking into account the immense difference in height. He had no hope, here, if it came to fighting...

But they weren't called the 'Brave' Police for nothing, either.

He approached.

"My inexperience began this. I intend to end it." Looking up to Megatronus Prime, he reached behind him for his shotgun--slowly--and laid it down in front of him. He was here to talk peace.

"I ask for an audience with you." He used the most formal modifiers that he had been programmed with, and bowed his head.

[megatronicpolarity]

Once they'd alerted their master to his guest, the Acolytes paid neither McCrane nor Megatronus any further attention. There were very few conversations that required Acolyte input and very few fights a Firstforged couldn't win alone. Their job was to ferry materials back to the temple for processing, and that was what they would do, no matter what shouting or punching or gunfire might arise in the background. Simple pleasures for simple minds.

Megatronus watched McCrane set aside his weapon with a distinct air of disinterest. A symbolic gesture at best. He had been on the wrong end of a shotgun before, and he had not been impressed – and the last shotgun has been a size larger.

Though it and McCrane's words suggested he had at least learned how to behave in the presence of his superiors, Megatronus nonetheless got the impression he was being handled delicately; subtly manipulated, even. He did not care to be associated with either word.

"You expect an audience, if you've made your way here before asking. But I am feeling charitable-" Megatronus paused long enough to motion at the stripped remains of the station. Lucky break, McCrane. Seeing things torn apart did good things to his temper. "So speak."

[mccrane]

McCrane's head remains bowed for a moment, and he can't help but wince on the words. He did have his own arrogance, much as he tried to hide it. He thought he was right, and he thought that keeping his emotions in check would always let him do the sensible thing.

Megatronus, however, manages to find that one sore spot each time. He doesn't know how to deal with that...except with sincerity.

"If you told me to leave, I would."

It would mark a failure on his part, and a bitter one, but he would. And he'd journey the next day to ask again, and the next.

"So thank you, for letting me stay." He looked back to Megatronus, finally, and picked his Shotgun up to re-sling it on his back.

"I want to...ask." He has to chose his words carefully, but he tries to keep in mind what both Starscream and First Aid have told him. "..What would make you happy in our handling of your refugees?"

[megatronicpolarity]

"If I wanted you out of my sight, my Acolytes would oblige me, whether you wished it or not," he remarked.

Under which circumstances there would be no coming back day after day unless McCrane could find a few volunteers to act as living shields. (And even then - one person could only take so many bullets or energy blasts before their usefulness expired.)

Not that Megatronus himself couldn't make McCrane disappear just as easily. He pulled himself up from his seat, slow and deliberate, every shift of his armor intended as a display of strength. Megatronus Prime was never easily swayed. He made even Prima fight for every inch of ground and no Refugee would be granted more leeway than one of his own kin.

"What would please me would be to have you recognize that where my territory and Refugees are concerned, my word is absolute. But I expect that's too much to ask of you, isn't it? You're too like Prima."

He had, in fact, noticed that McCrane had an ego and reserves of stubbornness himself. Takes one to know one?

"I will settle for nothing less than the freedom to punish my own Marked," he said, his words backed up with a fierce glare.

Go on, challenge him. Please.

[mccrane]

"I understand."

He did understand. He understood better when Megatronus Prime stood, taking up more space in presence than he did in mass alone. McCrane had walked with Prima twice and been in awe...

but this was awe of a very different nature, now. Megatronus unnerved him, and challenged his ideas, and frightened him. He was young, and his team was not here to give their support. Drill Boy, and Power Joe, and Dumpson...who he sorely missed.

Gunmax, even.

But Gunmax reminded him of Megatronus Prime with the dark mark on his shoulder and his stubborn rebellion--and he'd come to love Gunmax for it. For being aggressive, and loud, and uncouth, and spirited. Surely, two opposites could get along.

Especially when Megatronus had named his terms himself.

"I...accept." McCrane's optics came into sharp focus, standing to face off against the imposing form, realizing that those words left plenty of leeway for a compromise.

"The Law Committee shall make the laws. My Police shall enforce them. The Refugees shall judge them--and you will maintain the freedom to punish them in accordance with the decision rendered." He said it, determined...

And then instantly remembered what he'd been told about dictating the terms to Megatronus. The last thing he wanted to be doing right now was telling him how it would be.

"Would this be acceptable to you? You would, of course, be granted a say at their trial..."

[megatronicpolarity]

Megatronus' disposition had seemed to be calming, the armor plates at his back flattening out, but the instant the words you will left McCrane's mouth his optics flashed nearly white.

So close and yet so far. Perhaps it would have been wise to bring Gunmax along to act as a magnet for the tank's infamous temper.

McCrane wasn't wrong, however. Megatronus Prime and Prima's past successes were proof that gains could be pulled from the interaction of two extremes, but their combination was like water into acid. It was hazardous to stand within range of the two when their viewpoints collided. Rather than dulling each other's harsher traits over time, they had sharpened them. Where he was once simply loud Megatronus was now commanding; outright violent rather than aggressive; and willing to cut to the core instead of merely rude.

Megatronus Prime was eons of fighting relentlessly for his pride and his desires compacted into one spark. Put simply: a little much for a junior to handle when he raged.

"I don't think you understand, McCrane. I don't need your permission. You have no authority here, none beyond that which you imagine your imported laws and morality grant you – but I promise you that power is the only real authority here."

The Prime took a heavy step forward, obliterating the remaining distance between the two of them.

"Do you know what it is that stops me from killing you this very instant?"

[mccrane]

He'd caught himself--but it had been too late.

When the other took a step forward, it was towards a McCrane whose hopes for a peaceful resolution were falling in glass shards around him, flashing back to the moment when he'd thought he'd been at safe sniping distance when Overlord had suddenly turned...

And that was all he could recall of that day.

He stood his ground, but it was more because he felt frozen onto it than because he had the confidence to remain. This was not just frightening--this was terrifying.

"N...nothing but your own will, Megatronus Prime," he answered, sufficiently cowed, his knees shaking and ready to give out at any moment.

This wasn't law.

This was chaos.

That, however, was another key.

"And the fact that you...you want Cybertron to survive." His voice was wavering, but he was figuring something out. "Which it cannot, if we are all fighting."

He stood no chance against you, but Prima did, and Vector, and Nexus, and he was certain that none of them would be happy about their Refugees dying. Megatronus had been angry enough himself about Frenzy's treatment, and that was only hypothetical.

There was leverage to be had against the Firstforged, in that way....however tiny.

It did not give McCrane much hope right now, however.