A/N well, I wanted to try something new. This story features my favorite pair of twins. Please note, with this story I'm straying into darker waters and won't be very generous on light moments and humor. I hope you enjoy it just the same though.
Disclaimer: Hasbro owns transformers.
"You're insane."
"That's what they tell me! And I prefer the term, eccentric awesome mastermind. See, I even drew up a blueprint for this."
Sunstreaker pinched the bridge of his nose plating in frustration. "The answer is still no."
"But Sunny!" Sideswipe whined in mock distress.
"Don't you 'But Sunny' me." He scowled. "You know I hate that nickname."
"Alright, Twinkle it is then!"
The yellow mech growled. "I hope Ratchet takes his wrench and beats you half to death. I'm NOT going along with this! Primus only knows what's in Wheeljack's back closet."
"Aw fine. Be that way." Sideswipe said with a pout as he exited his and his brothers room. It was just going to be a simple prank. Get into Wheeljack's closet in his lab, plant a small neon paint glitter-bomb, and see what he had in there. If there was anything good, 'borrow' it, or take a holo-scan and use it for blackmail later.
'Hmm...wonder if ol' Jack's got any Play-Bot data pads he doesn't want anyone to see?' Sideswipe mused to himself. Prowl had found his stash eons ago and promptly had them destroyed by Ratchet. It didn't help that the so-called 'centerfold' in one happened to be a red and orange femme that Sideswipe had commented in a text box looked like Firestar. Man, the dents Ratchet put in him that day for supposedly fantasizing about his old flame...
Either way, he had a prank to pull!
"I'd ask if you learned your lesson, but that would be wasting my energon."
Sideswipe scowled as his twin gloated off to the side of one of the storage rooms. His punishment for the next few weeks would be to assist Hound and Beachcomber with inventory of their rock collection. At the current second, the Red Lamborghini was trying to lift a fragging boulder of quartz the size of Inferno.
"How the Pit was I supposed to know Wheeljack kept that closet full of stupid glitch mice?" Once he got into the back closet, Sideswipe had accidentally kicked a cage over releasing the mad scientists personal pets which proceeded to invest the Ark. Primarily, the control center which resulted in Red Alert calling a full blown code black and having every single Autobot converge on the control center to find him standing on his chair and screeching his helm off like a little femmling. During the brazen spaz attack, chaos erupted as glitch mice scattered over Bot's pedes. Bluestreak was now missing a doorwing, and Ironhide had accidentally sprayed Jazz and Gears with liquid nitrogen. Even Prime had gotten in the crosshairs and had his ear fin shorn off by a panicking Snarl who apparently, didn't like glitch mice.
"And you Mr. High-and-mighty!" The red mech said semi annoyed. "What's the matter? Too chicken to prank anymore? You act like pranking is stupid now!"
His twin smiled smugly. "Correction. Pranking when you know you'll get caught is stupid. Besides; I just got his paint redone." He stared at his gleaming forearm. "Wasn't gonna have it ruined by Hatchet."
Sideswipe frowned deeper. "You're one vain mother fragger."
His twin smirked with dark humor. "Proud of it." Sunstreaker then departed, leaving his twin to struggle with the bolder; which he promptly dropped on his foot.
"OW! ! SON OF A MOTHER FRAGGING RETRO RAT! ! ! HOW THE HELL DOES HOUND AND BEACHCOMBER BRING BACK THIS SHIT?!" The red lambo screeched while hopping up and down on one foot.
"With help normally." Was a calm response. Sideswipe turned to see Beachcomber. "Grimlock normally gives me and Hound a hand. In return, we give him any shiny rocks we find. He likes mica for some reason."
Sideswipe scowled. His foot had a wide shallow depression in it. And the blue Autobot's response wasn't helping. Beachcomber was a weird mech. A peace-loving Autobot that had fallen in love with nature harder than Hound and was fascinated by the previous two decades of Earth culture; which happened to be anti-war sentiment. To say the hippie geologist and the battle-loving frontliner were polar opposites would be a gigantic understatement.
"Well next time you collect rocks, how 'bout you and Hound collect something less heavy?" Sideswipe snapped.
"Oh, you mean like Pumice? Granted, it's actually vesicular volcanic glass but-" Beachcomber was silenced as Sideswipe let off a groan of mental torture at his remark's backfire. The blue visored mech smiled. "You wanna have a break? Come on, let's go back to my room for some energon." Beachcomber waved a casual 'come on' sign and Sideswipe followed down the hall towards the back of the ark. A few 'Bots made their home back here. Skyfire for one since some of the rooms were more spacious towards Dinobot quarters, Gears because no one wanted to listen to him complain, and some random guy called Hubcap, whoever the heck that was. There was actually a running bet going on as to whether or not he was a myth. Sideswipe honestly had no idea.
Walking through the labyrinth of orange hallways, the two bots finally stopped at a door. It was adored with nothing. Standard issue as hard-aft Prowl saw it fit to be. Primus, that mech needed a stiff drink.
Beachcomber had unlocked the door and ushered Sideswipe inside. The room was covered in peace-posters and rocks. A lava lamp provided a calm blue light that aided the mood. Various shades of red and pink silks covered the standard lights producing a warm tint to the room. Beachcomber smiled. "Sit if you'd like." He motioned to a giant bean bag. With a shrug, Sideswipe plopped down onto the seat. Beachcomber moved to his closet. "I've got some mild grade around here somewhere." He said. "Ah here we are!" The mech turned around with two cubes glowing bright green. He saw the red mech look alarmed at the odd color. "It's made with ethanol. Better for the environment." He handed one to Sideswipe.
The Lambo took it cautiously. He took a swig as his host sat down at his desk. He spluttered and coughed it back up. It tasted terrible!
Beachcomber chuckled as Sideswipe's face twisted and puckered at the taste. "It takes some getting used to, but eventually you come to like it." He said.
Sideswipe wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm. "Uh-huh." He said disbelievingly.
Beachcomber felt bad. "I know Skyfire has oil cakes. I'll go grab one for you. Get the taste out of your mouth." The dune-buggy got up. Sideswipe took another look around and noticed Beachcomber had knocked a box out of his closet, the contents spilling. "Hey Comber, ya knocked something over." He pointed to the box.
Beachcomber looked at the box. "Er...leave it be, I'll get it when I get back." He exited.
Sideswipe stayed put for a whopping three seconds before curiosity overwhelmed him. He went to the box and sorted through it. It was small, about a cyberfoot long. Inside was assorted odds and ends. A datapad of Cybertronian gossip, a large hunk of what looked like gold, and electrum sample, and something...else. Sideswipe picked up two of at least a dozen odd cylinders. They were small, about the size of a servo digit, he read the brand name. "Photon-blast?" He mumbled. A realization hit him. These were circuit boosters! They were mild by most standard, but according to Ratchet when on a long-winded speech, even mild boosters were very powerful. Huh...so Beachcomber really embraced the Hippie life. But given the dust on the box, this hadn't been touched in years. Sideswipe snatched up two. Blackmail was such a sweet thing. Maybe he could get out of rock duty! He carefully put everything back as it was and got back to the beanbag. Beachcomber came in a moment later. "Skyfire was fresh out. Sorry Sides." He moved to the box. He began to pick it up when an alert flashed nd Optimus's voice came over the comms. "ALL AUTOBOTS! DECEPTICONS ARE GOING AFTER A SOLAR POWER PLANT! ALL AVAILABLE AUTOBOTS TRANSFORM AND ROLL FOR IT!"
Sideswipe felt his twin over the bond groan internally. He smiled. "Well, see ya later Beachcomber!" He rushed out the door.
Beachcomber sighed. He put the box back. "Eight, ten, twelve, fourteen...huh...coulda sworn I had sixteen. Must of counted them wrong way back when." Beachcomber said aloud. He really should have given them to Ratchet for disposal, but fear of the medic won out. He couldn't get rid of them, and he had sworn off them long ago after he had tried them and decided it wasn't for him. He was stuck. The mech sighed as he put the box back on the shelf. Now to catch the second wave with Skyfire and get to the battle. Hopefully, he'd miss it again.
A/N Well...yeah...I'm really going into darker territory. Sorry if I offend and I do not personally condone this type of behavior.
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: DOING DRUGS IS BAD. You not only hurt yourself, but you hurt others. Just say no. It could save your life.