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Who: Megatron and Sixshot
What: Sixshot teaching Megatron da moves
When: Some time after Tarn's execution fiasco.
Where: D-con base
Warnings: Sensei sad doge.

Sixshot didn't feel exhaustion like most people did. He ran on a self regenerating fuel source and he was never low on energon or food. He was made of exotic alloys that were made to withstand the tidal forces of an event horizon and his joints hardly ever showed any sign of fatigue before the self repair got to it.

Exhaustion was a purely psychological experience. Emotional.

It's been a while since Tarn's exile and Sixshot's been trying to regather his composure, but it felt like the mental equivalent of slogging through an ocean of tar. He wants nothing more than to stay curled up by First Aid's bed side and maybe rust away for an eternity.

Unfortunately, there were things to do. And he suspects the clinic staff were starting to get awful annoyed with him anyways. And if there was trouble, he trusts Ratchet to call for help first thing.

Eventually, reluctantly, the Sixer drags himself back to the Decepticon base. He stays in the shower for a good hour, scrubbing the muck out of his joints, brushing the dust out of seams with a fine brush and going over minutae details of his appearance until his plating was spotless. There was no polish to apply (that would've been too formal anyways), so he just goes over his joints with lubricant and wipes off the excess.

Alright.

The Sixer pauses as he exits the shower, cycling in a deep breath and taking a moment to gather himself up.

Then it's off to find Megatron.

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As part of the clinic staff Megatron could assure him that his presence was not a nuisance. Tarn had nothing to lose now - and he'd already busted into the Medibay once to finish the job as he originally suspected. Having a Decepticon he could trust to watch over them, even for a little while, was a thing he was quietly appreciative of.

Sixshot would find him returning to the base as he left, looking a little mentally weary himself. Against his conscience, he was starting to consult a few about possibly having some sort of weapon upgrade. It felt every bit as wrong as he thought it would, but he had to consider the situation pragmatically. Tarn was far from the most dangerous rebel element in the Decepticons. Tarn at least had an unflinching, if misguided loyalty. The others? Not so much. He needed to be ready.

He looks up as Sixshot comes into view, very much noticing the extra care he's put into his frame. He thoughtlessly rubs his fingers over his own forearm, where something might be installed there eventually. It was uncomfortable to think about.

"Special occasion?" he asks good-naturedly,"You look good."

Edited 2015-12-24 12:16 (UTC)

"Formality," he answers simply as he strides closer, his optics drifting briefly to the way Megatron was rubbing his forearm. The Sixer suspects he knows what was causing the younger mech discomfort, which was a shame since he was going to have to broach the subject anyways.

The compliment would normally make him awful bashful, but, right now, he was not that Sixshot. He draws himself up, folding his hands behind his back and squaring off his shoulders.

"Would you like to continue your training, Megatron?"

Clean, well maintained, and in control. It was clear enough to Megatron that something about this was motivating Sixshot out of his heartbroken ennui. He was a little impressed and curious to ask him how he was feeling about all this.. but - well, he had to answer Sixshot's question first, didn't he?

There's a little hesitation from him, but eventually he just nods quietly. They both knew this was now, unfortunately, quite necessary.

There'd been a small part of Sixshot that'd quietly been hoping that Megatron would answer 'no'. This shouldn't have been Megatron's burden to begin with.

But Sixshot, for all his power, still couldn't be in two places at the same time. If he was on patrol or just on the other side of the city from an attack, that was all it would take. The clinic was vulnerable and Megatron himself even more so.

"Walk with me," he says quietly as he turns to lead his new pupil to the training ground.

It was interesting how easily the roles reversed. Back with Tarn, he'd firmly set his foot in charge, he almost wanted to apologize for the way he'd snapped a bit at Sixshot then. But as a student, he was far quieter and much more (clearly) observant.

He follows.

As their feet eventually begin to touch the training ground, he lags behind just a little.

"Do you think there'd be a way to do this without modifications?"

"We will see." Sixshot slows to a stop, peering at Megatron over his shoulder. "Upgrades for the sake of them are useless and cumbersome. How you fight will be the main determining factor in the matter."

"The Lord Megatron learned to fight as a gladiator. His fighting style was showy and he liked to draw out battles for the sake of it. It's a flaw he'd often instilled in the mechs he'd personally trained." Sixshot included considering his tendency to go on and on in fights. "His path is not yours."

He thinks back to the way Megatron had been touching at the spot on his arm and scowls quietly before looking away, over the expanse of the clearing he'd chosen for training. The clinic was still clearly seen from here, a direct line of sight in case there was ever and emergency.

"What have you learnt?"

He'd never actually seen his older self at work while he was here, and back on Cybertron he'd only heard of what Clench and his gladiators did from his shuttle mates on board. How they fought was something he could only leave to his imagination.

"Reading your opponent and reacting to it. Or at least, that's where we'd left off."

An unexpectedly defensive way to start Decepticon combat prep. But, well, Tarn was a good combatant despite his other flaws. He knew what he was talking about.

"Your ability to limit your telegraphs and read your opponent's is something you'll be in a better position to understand after some training." There's definitely a flatter tone in his voice despite everything. 'We' included Tarn after all and just thinking about Tarn hurt.

He pushes the sudden well of emotions aside, refocusing on calm numbness instead. Megatron's success depended on his patience and he can't afford to let his feelings take over. Slowly, Sixshot unfolds his hands and turns to fully face the younger mech, expression unreadable.

"You will learn melee alongside training for ranged weaponry. I will give you my gun when you are ready and you will choose if you want a melee weapon and what it will be after that."

Megatron picks up on the slight discomfort, subtle as it was. The two had spent quite some time together - this was starting to sound unlike him. He appreciates Sixshot taking the time to be his instructor, but he wasn't going to ignore his own feelings on the matter.

So he nods in confirmation, and then speaks: "Before we begin, I would like you to know that you don't need to turn yourself into an automaton for this, Sixshot."

"You're not just a database of knowledge or a training partner. You're a trusted friend. I came to you because of that as well. If you'd like to speak of something outside the lessons.. I'm always open to hear it."

Edited 2015-12-26 04:06 (UTC)

For the longest of moments, Sixshot doesn't answer. He looks tired all of a sudden, worn down and hurt and unspeakably guilty. It's a brief crack however and just as soon as it appears, it fades back into nothingness.

"... Thank you," he says simply, carefully neutral.

He remembers the disappointed anger in Megatron's eyes and he has no intention of invoking it again. His mental state was fragile as it is and it didn't need another crack.

"Would you like to start training today?"

For better or worse, the Sixer attempts to change the topic.

Megatron sees the guilt in Sixshot's eyes slip through for a moment, and gives him a concerned look in return. This was clearly something he couldn't just let go and leave to stew with time.

There's a silent pause from him as Sixshot poses the question, but in the end he just nods.

"Yes. As soon as you're able. "

"I am more than able now."

Sixshot shifts his weight just minutely, reaching out to beckon Megatron to begin.

"Show me."

"Show you what, exactly?"

He felt like he had an idea, but he was never particularly fond of these cold starts his teachers seem to be so fond of.

Still, he keeps a knowing eye on Sixshot's frame. He may lack eons of experience, but at this point he was quite familiar with minutiae of the Cybertronian body - inside and out. He could picture where the touch circuits and lines of energon likely ran under that thick armor. A thinner break between the plates would likely be his best bet to set a target.

These cold starts were kindness compared to what Tarn and Sixshot had endured. His first training sessions had left the Sixer nearly dead. There was no room for failure, not even in the beginning.

This... this was Sixshot trying to be gentle.

"Fight me. Do everything you can to win."

Not much opportunity for him to do anything but get knocked on his rear running headfirst into Sixshot. Megatron hasn't had the Phase Sixer program explained to him, but he knew that he was bristling with weaponry and well armored. Not to mention the eons of experience he lacked.

So he lowers his stance and begins to circle around him, waiting to see how Sixshot will react in turn. The best thing might be to just play this thing by ear and see how long he can hold out.

The thing is, Sixshot barely reacts at all. He's let his arm drop back to his side and his stance was relaxed. The only thing that did move were his optics, calmly tracking Megatron's movements until the young mech disappears behind his wings.

Sixshot didn't even bother to follow, leaving Megatron with a little suspicion and uncertainty. But he couldn't stand here circling him all day. His footsteps continue - he suspects audio is how the mech is continuing to keep track of him - before he gets in closer.

He goes low, out of the reach of the Sixer's arms, to attempt to seize one of his legs and knock him to the ground with some of his own weight.

You don't throw just 'some' of your weight at a Phase Sixer and expect them to move. It especially doesn't work when said Phase Sixer had a ridiculously dense body mass that was made of ununtrium, black hole harvested alloys and a self regenerating power source.

Sixshot hears the shift in Megatron's foot steps and braces himself for an attack. He knows Lord Megatron's attacks well and he expects to be floored in a second--

The anti-climatic 'thunk' against his leg was... surprising. Sixshot blinks and then looks down at Megatron, optics wide with confusion.

"... Ah." And for a few long seconds, he is speechless.

"That was... a start."

Well, he expected a lot of things, but hitting a wall was not one of them. Even someone of Sixshot's size shouldn't be this damn heavy. He certainly didn't have this much trouble with Tarn.

There's a hiss from his own vents as he continues. For whatever reason, Sixshot hadn't retaliated, so he figures he'll at least follow through with his plan. Putting more force behind the push, his spark starts to strain the cold-constructed actuators beyond what they were built to exert. His frame was strong, surely, but it didn't quite graft like a war-forged chassis would.

Still, he attempts to lift up the leg just enough to be attempt to disbalance him and knock him down. All that weight could be used against Sixshot with a little movement, right?

Sixshot was actually a head shorter than Tarn but most of his mass was in subspace. In reality, he weighed more like the massive canine mode he spent so much time in.

It's not a fact that gives Sixshot a lot of comfort now, watching the young mech strain trying to lift just one leg. In fact, he's actually kind of internally panicking about it all. They're definitely going to need strength upgrades at the very least. They're going to need so many strength upgrades. Where does he find someone who can give Megatron the upgrades he needs? Ratchet was going to disapprove so much.

All of this races through the Sixer's head as Megatron succeeds in lifting his leg. Expression frozen in panicked worry, the Sixer kind of just... slowly lets himself loose balance and half falls, half sits down, helping the younger mech lift the leg up a bit higher.

Oh god what was he doing?

"Your form is, ah. It's good. Make sure your weight is distributed properly so you, uh. Don't lose your balance when your opponent... struggles."

He was going to be a terrible teacher.

Megatron just stands there for a moment with Sixshot's leg resting on his shoulder. He doesn't look injured, at least, though there's a light stream of hot air pooling from his vents. He could smell a little burnt oil off his actuators, too.

Should this have gone as planned, he might moved forward and gone for the gaps in armor he had seen earlier (however successful that might have been..). But he instead just lets that leg slip off him and fall to the ground with a heavy thunk.

"I don't feel like an enemy would stand still and wait for me knock them over," he says. He appreciates Sixshot being.. gentle, but he didn't feel particularly enlightened by the process.

"Some of them might?" He realizes he's trying too hard to sound optimistic and immediately tries to rectify that. "I mean, usually not, but I've met a few who have and... and..."

Abruptly, Sixshot shuts himself up. The Sixer just stares at Megatron for a moment, trying desperately to regather his composure. Eventually he gives up and pushes off the ground and onto his feet somewhat gracelessly.

"Let's..." He resets his vocalizer before reaching out, offering a hand to help Megatron up. "Let's try something else."

"I suppose if they have a big enough ego," he replies quickly, trying to save some of Sixshot's dignity.

He was fine on his own.. but, he takes that hand anyway, figuring the old mech could use something to ease his nerves. After he stands up straight again, he lightly tests the shoulder joint that had taken the brunt of the initial impact. Everything felt fine, at least. Time to move forward.

"What do you want to try?"

"I'm- I- give me a moment." He didn't plan things out for this. He didn't plan things out for this at all. Sixshot had been expecting a beginner's performance but he hadn't been expecting Megatron to barely even be able to lift just one of his legs.

Quietly, Sixshot steps back and pinches the bridge of his nose, half turned away. It's a couple of seconds before he turns back to Megatron, wings pinned back awkwardly.

"I would still like to do an assessment of your skill levels. I need to know where you are and what weaknesses we'll have to worry about. But... is there anything you would like to learn? Any concerns about what we're doing?"

Concerns?

"Only if there are other Decepticons that have your... Composition."

He rests his hands on his hips, looking at Sixshot's attempt to settle his quiet panic. Granted, the way they started wasn't fantastic, but his uncertainty was leaving him feeling a bit less than convinced he shouldn't just call someone else to help the large soldier mediate the process.

"You said I'd be taking a different path from a gladiator. I want to know what that means and where this will lead."

"I am the only Phase Sixer with this armor classification, but Overlord and Black Shadow have their own abilities." Sixshot takes a quiet moment to pray that Overlord would never arrive here.

"Tarn..." The name makes his voice waver but he forces himself through it, refusing to let it have an affect on him. "Tarn is classed as having the same power level with his outlier ability, but he does not have the same classification of armor, armaments and strength that Phase Sixers possess and his powers affect only Cybertronians. Hence his main position handling Decepticon internal affairs."

There. Sixshot bites down on his tongue for a moment before continuing, letting the pain ground him.

"If you wish to protect the people you care about, you will have to at least be able to match a forged point one-percenter in a fight."

"I've never heard of the term, though I'm curious why being forged has anything to do with it."

His voice is even as he takes in the information. Classification like this was exactly what he'd been fighting against for the longest time. It doesn't leave him with a particularly good taste in his mouth to hear it continued through the war.

What had they accomplished with the fighting if not at least that?

"Phase Sixer from Phase Six of the seven step Infiltration Protocol. It's the protocol we use to invade an inhabited world. The Phase Sixers were specifically designed to end worlds." Talk of Decepticon politics seem to calm Sixshot somewhat, distracting him from the panic of realizing the young Megatron wasn't near as powerful as he'd thought. This was a familiar territory; all Decepticon officers were thoroughly educated in these topics and Sixshot had taught more than his fair share of such classes.

"As for the matter of being forged... you are the only cold constructed Point One Percenter from before the war." Sixshot levels an odd look at Megatron. "Before the war, no one had ever though to put a green spark into a constructed body."

It'd always been the big mystery for High Command. Who put Megatron's green spark into a mining body? Why had they done it? It was one of the reasons Megatron's Point One Percenter status tended to so unknown to the rest of the troops.

"The main reason why I bring up forged Point One Percenters as being what you need to match is because that is the kind of people you are going to face." The Sixer folds his arms thoughtfully. "Tarn is a Point One Percenter. Galvatron is too, if the history books weren't lying. The most basic requirement for a Phase Sixer is that they be Point One Percenters and all of us had forged endoskeletons before Lord Shockwave deigned it a bottle-neck. A forged endoskeleton was formed pre-calibrated to the power output of the spark, which is why the most powerful mechs were forged Point One Percenters."

"I see," he reacts somewhat morosely as he digests Sixshot's words. It was admittedly a little uncomfortable for Sixshot to be so casually aware of what he considered to be very personal information. He didn't expect this to be what they'd be discussing when they started, though part of him was curious at how the furious, bright forge in his spark chamber had gotten there.

After a long, uncertain pause, thinking of the discussion he'd begun to have, he had an idea where this was going to go.

"And I imagine.. We'll need to make adjustments to match," he says, managing to hide some of the same discomfited tone from earlier. It seemed inevitable he'd need to adapt if he wanted to stand a chance against the other threats here. He just didn't want it to get carried away.

"..."

Sixshot cycles his optics off and turns away, guilt settling heavy under his spark chamber. He wonders again if this was the right path, the right thing to do, the right thing to ask of Megatron. Was he laying out the path for another tyrant? Worse yet, was he taking away Megatron's dreams just for some peace of mind?

Tarn's exile might have been enough. Even if it weren't, Sixshot was still one of, if not the most powerful mech on this planet by sheer amount of armor and weaponry alone.

And yet...

His thoughts drift to First Aid, his mangled frame, the scent of a spark on the verge of flickering out lingering long after he'd been stabilized. That could be Megatron too.

"... Yes," he says quietly, at last. "If you want to survive a fight like that, then you will have to modify your frame."

The silence that came this time was far longer as Megatron considered his options. Whether he liked it or not, his future would come to haunt him one way or another. He'd always be a target. At this point, it seems like he's always been one, since he began to circulate his writing.

And he'd be no use to anyone dead.

"Fine," he says, finally, fingers lightly brushing his forearm "Let me know what I need, and I'll find a way to make the adjustment. But you still haven't answered my question."

He looks up to meet Sixshot's aversive gaze,"What path do you see this being? How will it be different than before?"

Very gently, Sixshot places his hands atop Megatron's shoulders, looking him in the eye.

"I don't know this path." The admission was made with some amount of embarrassment, but there was a lightness to Sixshot's tone and he adds, "You've learned to be a medic, you've helped save First Aid's life. No one can know if this is the right path yet, it's too early. But know that it's not His. And for the better or worse, I will follow you down it."

He stares at Megatron for a moment longer, what was visible of his face lit up by a strange expression Then he seems to realize what he was doing and loudly resets his vocalizer, drawing his hands back.

"Our immediate concern is at least matching the strength of your body to what your spark can output." As he speaks, he slips a datapad out of his inventory, holding it out for the younger mech to take. "Until that point, we'll stick with something a bit more standard. Usually, new Decepticons are brought online with the complete basic Decepticon combat database already pre-loaded. Since we don't have that, I've made my own for you to download. I was hoping to streamline it a bit more after our initial spar, but I think it might be best for you to go through the unabridged version."

He watches Sixshot's expression, what he could see behind the mask, and finds a new certainty in his words. His own expression brightens, something that was happening less and less often, and he simply nods. He would do what he had to to help piece together some modicum of peace from the tatters of this war.

"Ratchet would know how to make the adjustment," he rubs the back of his helm sheepishly,"I don't imagine he'll be very pleased if I ask him."Ratchet would be able to tell right away what he was doing even before he explained himself.

He takes the datapad, tilting his head slightly.

"I would imagine so..." Sixshot had been meaning to discuss this with Ratchet and First Aid but he wasn't particularly looking forwards to it. He doesn't imagine either of them would be very happy about the fact that Megatron was going to go through with combat-related upgrades.

Gesturing to the pad, he says, "You'll have to download it. It's basic combat maneuvers, gun usage, strategy and tactics. A lot of it is skills that can be installed. Only the most basic level of skills though. I will have to train you if you want to become more proficient at sniper rifles or the like."

He looks down at the datapad as Sixshot explains. This certainly isn't the first time he's heard of downloadable packets like this, but overall starting combat ability isn't something he expected to just absorb in one fell swoop. After all the months he'd taken to train to be a medic, it seemed a little... too easy.

"That's it? I imagine I'll at least need a day or two to properly process all the new data."

"That's pretty much all there is to it," Sixshot says with just a bit of amusement in his tone. "When I woke up, it only took five minutes flat before I was ready and they launched me into my first battle. Even without the Sixer upgrades, I was able to level the battle-field in record time. Lord Shockwave was very pleased."

There was an odd, distant kind of pride in his voice, almost nostalgic.

"On average, MTO soldiers tend to be battle-ready straight from the freezer in about half an hour. Some take less, but it really depends on the personality of the mech in question," he explains, gesturing the pad. "I'm sure it'll go quite smoothly for you since you won't have the first shock of waking up in a new body. Once you're over the initial rush of information, it's really quite intuitive."

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literally 5 million years later

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