Chapter Text
“Marine will be online in three.”
“Two…”
“Silence. Let her breathe her first without your obnoxious meddling.”
“...Yes, Lord Megatron.”
.
.
.
This event marked the first time he–or anyone at all–had seen someone who wasn’t a sparkling resurface like this. Jealousy stung the cores of each bot, with rusted edges, as they stared at the creation before them. This bot donned a brand new processor and a buffed, shiny frame, pairing well with the two glassy optics that shook the bystanding Cybertronians to their very spark. The concept of the word “new” was not lost on her. She shone with newborn opulence.
Marine, Megatron's newest and finest creation. Nothing like her had come before, and nothing would after. Megatron wasn’t fond of endeavors of this scale—not unless it was essential to the Decepticon cause. Even with the advantage they now had, this felt different. Special. Nobody knew it would change everyone's life.
“Breakdown. Take her to the suite. Make her feel at home, would you?”
“Wh….Breakdown? Why him?”
“Knockout, you would do well to maintain your place. This is not it. While I can understand your jealousy towards our newest member, I will not tolerate it. Back to your post. Sightseeing has concluded.”
Time moved faster from thereon out. Marine’s gentle digits grasped the wreckers' massive, battered mits, curling softly around his knuckles in a way that sent pangs of life to his spark. It felt like she’d taken tools to his spark with the nerves she injected inside him. Her metallic, un-kissed lips remained closed, but her expression wrote the words into everyone's mind. Adjectives flew in short bursts. Apprehension. Hope. Vulnerability. What was once seen as confusion became fear, which collapsed into an unimpressed glare that seemed nearly nonplussed…her optics worked in tandem with her pouting lower lip to say it all.
“I’m not scared of you,” Her body seemed to scream. “I’m just getting my bearings.”
So, naturally, Knockout, the king of vanity and narcissism, was jealous. While bots hardly acknowledged his brilliance, he found that Breakdown, his closest friend, was under her spell almost instantly. The brute, “the one whom he only kept around to make him look better,”—said Starscream–was practically flummoxed by the glittering image she left in her wake. It made his stomach churn like a soured smoothie. Distrust warped his processor, leaving a small drip of disgust in his chassis. All of the ugly feelings he felt inside hardly subsided when she walked out of the room.
Marine's steps were careful, quiet, and not at all wobbly, carrying her gracefully to her “suite”. The bot must’ve had nothing to say to the large man on her arm, because her lips shut like they’d been glued. For someone who had resurfaced not even an hour ago, Marine was oddly peaceful. Questionless. Like the world’s first moving picture.
“Um, this is gonna be your room. Or err–– suite. I don’t know why Lord Megatron calls it that; it’s really not that impressive. If you’re expecting one of those five-star human hotels, uh…you’re gonna be disappointed. There’s really nothing in there but your berth for recharging, and some rations if you lose access to our cafeteria for some reason.”
Her optics squinted at him. Who was Lord Megatron? What is a “human hotel”? Where is the cafeteria? While strapping, Marine did not believe that her escort had all of his marbles intact. Or perhaps, he was not as smart as she thought. Expecting her expression to be easily hidden, she jumped a bit when he spoke again.
“Excuse me…” He loosened his grip on Marine’s hand, using it to scratch his neck. “Lord Megatron is your creator and our leader. We are currently in a war against the Autobots, and he expects you to assist him in it. If you want my advice… I’d follow his orders to a T. Besides the fact that he looks terrifying, Megatron is not the bot you want to be on the bad side of. His bark and his bite are evenly matched because he’s known for getting what he wants and doing whatever it takes to get it. I'm not saying that to scare you, I swear…”
Breakdown spoke some words after that, but Marine had tuned them out. Her optics were now tracing his form, inputting all of his measurements and behaviors into her newly cleared database. A few words peeped into her processor, but they were strung together like a beginners first crochet project. A shoddy attempt at comfort.
New words slipped into her mouth, and were poured out with an intensity that was practically visual.
“I love you.”
Breakdown's body froze for a second, seemingly forgetting its function. Her first words, and they didn’t sound unsure at all. It was as though she’d read them from a book, with such clarity and trust… after just one conversation. If she hadn’t stared him dead in the face, he’d wonder if she spoke at all–or if this was wishful thinking.
“Did I hear you right?”
“Yes. Breakdown, I love you.”
“Marine, I’m flattered, but I really don’t think you know what that means yet…You’re still quite fresh–”
“I’m not a fruit,” She claimed, but her expression soured just like it. “You don’t have to treat me like one. My body is likely older than yours, anyway. More than that, I know what words are, how I feel, and how to express them. Please don’t read into this more than I intend. I simply mean that I love you. Your spark is pure.”
“Um, thank you, I think. Not totally sure what you mean, but…I’m sure you’re well intentioned.”
Nobody had given him instructions for what to do if the freshest, most beautiful bot in the world expressed desire for a conjunx ritual five seconds after meeting. Megatron hadn’t set him up well enough for this. He was instructed to show her around, make her feel at home, and protect her if Starscream acted up. “Treat her like a porcelain doll, he said, “and remind her that she is fragile. I don’t want her broken.”
Though as his eyes traced her form, he realized that she wasn’t. The glass effect that scaled her body was a spurious attempt at mimicking a dainty doll. Further, her form was quite thick, like his own. Breakdown was meant for no more than his name suggested: Breaking down. Because of this, he received gradual upgrades from the scientists and cosmetologists to suit that. Marine, fittingly, had the same broad shoulders, thick fists, and a tall, intimidating stature. It was simply her “wrapping” that gave the impression of luxury.
And just like that, she changed the subject.
“Can I change my room around? The blandness in here is making my optics water.”
But Breakdown was far from done.
“--What did you mean, my spark is pure?” His gruff voice seemed to beg for answers from the only bot who had none.
“You’re still on that?” She laughed, and it filled Breakdown's ears with symphonic melodies he’d only ever heard about.
“I appreciate what you said, but…maybe you shouldn’t say things of that magnitude if you can’t back them up. It’s jarring.”
“Sorry, I guess? When you’re surrounded by blackened sparks upon first wake, it might be nice to point out that there’s one that’s different. It was meant as a compliment, so don’t lose sleep over it.”
Marine carried herself to the door, blinking a ‘thank you’ before escorting Breakdown out. Without missing a beat, she made herself comfortable on the cold, unwelcoming floor, taking in her surroundings and visualizing all of the changes she’d make if given the chance. No, when given the chance.
.
.
.
“How was she? As vapid and shallow as every other bot in this dump?” As though he’d been listening the whole time, Knockout spoke with a tight smirk that threatened the mobility of his mouth.
“...No, actually. She’s very different.”
Oh no.
His spark lurched into his throat, choking back whatever insult he’d had planned. Breakdown truly was enraptured by the glistening cosmetics of the new bot. Underneath it all, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t blame him. She was beautiful, but it still didn’t feel right. Those two were peas in a pod, and to say otherwise was borderline treachery. Knockout wrapped his arm under Breakdowns, sneering as he spoke once more.
“Is she imbecilic beyond measure, dear maestro? Speaking of, I'm in dire need of a buff…”
“She’s not. Marine is more intelligent than she lets on, so…After all of that, I might need a moment to myself. You can handle the buffing for today, right?”
Since when did Breakdown ever refuse him? Was this going to become a new thing? Has the replacement ritual commenced? A new charge kicked in, a new mechanism to keep himself safe and out of harm's way.
“...Of course I can. I simply wanted you to feel included. Go ahead, “think” about whatever just happened. I didn’t need help anyway.”
“Thank you, Knockout. I’ll see you later, then.”
“Will you…” The medic spat. “Hmph.”
It was high time for a ride, anyway. One that wouldn’t be bothered by pretty femmes and mindless wreckers who kissed the ground she walked on. While this was an ugly feeling, Knockout prided himself on beauty. His coping mechanism of choice would set him on racing grounds, freeing him from whatever femme mystery kept his mind in a tangle.