A/N: New story that I just started typing up. I really wanted to write a better story about the Twins and their beloved bondmate. I sort of have an idea of where I want this to lead, but I don't know, we'll see. Also, the rating might go up due to the Twins beautiful language and future violence/angst. Anyway, I hope you'll read, enjoy and comment!
The sky was dark, angry as it growled down upon the life that teemed upon the planets surface. Bright streaks of lightning split the sky, earning another loud smack of thunder to resonate after. The blinding light of the sky's tears began to liquefy as burning drops spilled out from above. Clear with a light essence of blue, the acid rain dripped onto metal roofing, homes, and buildings. Small puddles began to form in the imperfect marks of the sidewalk cracks and dents in the road. The acid rain was a painful plague to the residents of Cybertron; preserving no mercy on the colorful armor plating that darted and bustled beneath the rain. This is where our story takes place: in the small town of Tarn, on the outskirts of Kaon and days away from the gleaming city of Praxus, and the mighty Iacon. Many bots in Tarn worked illegally to make ends meet, or just for the simple lifestyle and easy living conditions. Though, there were also the residents who had no choice but to endure the living arrangements and face whatever obstacles came to them: much like a young merchant by the name of Bluestreak:
"Sides, do you think there's more out there than selling half-slagged items to the public?"
Sideswipe finished pulling the last item under the shelter away from the acid rain scaring away their business. Potential customers dodging and diverting themselves away from their store location. Sideswipe looked at his mate, a calm look plastered onto his faceplates, but curiosity beamed from his cerulean optics. He turned his body to face Bluestreak while he leaned back against the clerk's counter; Sideswipe's body language suggesting that his mate continue on whatever path he was currently taking.
"I mean, we're not making any lasting revenue here. All we get are the schmucks that pass through," Bluestreak waved his servo around, exaggerating his statement. "All they look for are new weaponry and upgrades and other assorted knick-knacks."
Sideswipe looked at his mate amused. "Hey, those 'schmucks' bring in income."
"But, how satisfying is that income? There's barely enough that can bring us a whole week's worth of energon. That income can barely pass us every month's rent. Do you remember last month? We only had enough to pay for the rent and nothing else. We nearly starved!"
"What are you trying to say, Blue? So what if we barely make it by only scratching the bottom of the oil pan. Sunny gets a fair amount of income as well."
"Sunstreaker gets us the clients,"
"Or the 'schmucks'," Sideswipe chuckled beneath his intakes, hoisting himself up to his full height and crossing his arms. He further chuckled at Bluestreak's unamused face: one optic ridge raised and his baby blue optics glaring up at Sideswipe.
"What," Sideswipe asked, shrugging and holding up his arms in a relaxed questioning manner. Bluestreak rolled his optics and continued on with what he was saying. "Sunstreaker gets us the clients from the gladiator pits in Kaon. He's our propaganda. But, how many regulars do we get daily? Weekly? Monthly, even?"
Sideswipe began counting on his digits, holding up one then two, then barely making it to three digits with much consideration.
"This town is nothing more than a pit-stop." Bluestreak griped, throwing his servos down in agitation. His doorwings lowered slightly, then flicked with the cool, radioactive breeze that shot through his and Sideswipes merchant stand. A few flecks of rain drops landed just below the end of the stand's onning, and the rain lightly dusted the sides of countertop.
Sideswipe saw the rough breeze, and noticed that droplets of rain was riding the wind and entering the stand beneath the shelter. Motioning his mate, Sideswipe led Bluestreak back further into the stand, against the far back wall away from outside and the acid rain. "Okay, so, if you don't like it here, what do you want to do about it?" Sideswipe began.
"I want to look more, adventure out further where our chance of a sufficient income can be made possible. Like, Praxus or Iacon." Bluestreak crossed his arms over his chassis.
"Bluestreak, what would we do in those upper class cities? Nobody is gonna want a couple of merchants and a semi-sweet sunflower. What use could we possibly be? Sunny and I are to 'gruff' for a fragile city like Praxus and the Crystal Gardens."
"But there are so many opportunities for us there: Sunny could actually receive something for his paintings and artwork. We could own a little shop, selling items that offer more useful upgrades that don't hurt other bots."
"Blue," Sideswipe sighed. His hand graced over his forehead, trying to soothe the rising headache.
"Sides, just hear me out." Bluestreak pleaded.
"I'm trying to. Do you know how much that would cost, how much debt we would be put in? Bluestreak, we can't spend what we don't have."
"That's exactly my point: not enough credits. Wouldn't you like to buy something and not worry about the cost?" Bluestreak whined, trying to persuade Sideswipe into his thinking.
Sideswipe looked at his mate, a bit of irritation gleaming in his optics. He didn't like the idea of moving away from a place where they had spent so much time, not having to deal with crowds, politics, and nobles. The closest thing to a noble he had dealt with was Blue's older sibling, Prowl. And, if Praxus and Iacon had something akin to that, frag that idea!
"Blue, I don't know how to handle this idea. What do I say? Besides, we have to run this over with Sunny." Sideswipe pinched the bridge of the nasal plating.
"I know, but, promise to think about it?"
With a heavy spark and a sigh, Sideswipe agreed. "I promise," And with that, Bluestreak nodded in appreciation and turned his gaze to outside, watching as the tiny drops of acid rain pelted against the ground and any surrounding buildings.
That night, beneath a weak light in the living area of a small home, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker sat on a ratted couch, flicking through weak broadcasts of a small television. Simple and monotonous shows were running on the main channels: current news on the unsettlement in the illegal gladiator pits in Kaon, the same historical documents of the original 13 and the current Prime, Sentinel, and the illegal broadcast of a poker game in Polyhex.
"Ol' Smokey's on tonight. Wonder what he'll win this time?" Sideswipe thought out loud, watching as a blue mech appeared on the small screen. This mech had a sharp yellow chevron and regal blue doorwings. One couldn't go without noticing the bright red streaks racing down his chassis. It was almost a sign of caution for his enemies in his poker game. With a rolled, solid energon cigar hanging out of his smirking mouth, the cards were dealt, and then the channel was changed. "Sunny,"
"We're not watching that." Sunstreaker grumbled, switching to another channel.
"Go back to Smokescreen, Sunshine. I want so see if he wins or not." Sideswipe whined, making a grab for the remote from Sunsreaker. Holding his servo away,
Sunstreaker rolled his optics and clicked back while Sideswipe continued to scuttle around his hand. As the black picture on the television screen regained its color, the broadcast showed a small, happy red mech (most likely a minicon), smirking proudly at his win. In the corner, Smokescreen humphed and crossed his arms. Most of his betting pool gone. The channel was changed. "There, you saw him lose." Sunstreaker griped, shoving Sideswipe off of him and rolling onto the floor.
"Not funny, Sunflower," Sideswipe keened from the floor, rising to glare at his ever oblivious twin.
Sunstreaker flipped through the channels, finding a gladiator match between a rising gladiator (Megatronus, or whatever), and an unlucky opponent. Sideswipe landed himself on the couch again, hunching over and crossing his servos. As the program continued, this silver and gruesome gladiator proceeded to knock his opponent to the ground by sending a ferocious punch to the back. With a heavy silver pede holding his opponent down, the gladiator, known as Megatronus, leaned down and twisted the weak helm to a 180 degree angle, thus decapitating his enemy. Megatronus held up the head, energon dripping into a pool at his pedes, and smirked at the cameras. The program ended and commercials began.
"Whoa," Sideswipe voiced beneath his breath. His optics were wide as he and Sunny shared a look of wondrous fear and curiosity for this new gladiator. The two of them sat in awestruck silence, watching the numerous commercials play over the television set. It wasn't until a vacationing commercial for Praxus and the Crystal Gardens, that a few words were able to escape.
"That's where Blue wants us to go." Sideswipe mumbled to himself, while watching the pictures flicker over the screen. Sunstreaker turned his helm to look at his twin, his optics wide and confused. HIs dark, azure optics narrowed and bore a metaphorical hole into the side of his brother's helm. "Excuse me," Sunstreaker half growled out.
Sideswipe turned his head to look at Sunstreaker, only to rear his head back when he saw his brother's look: murderous and angry. The two looked at each other, understanding the confusion and fear lacing itself in the tendrils of their bond. There was no noise, the soft buzz from the television becoming numb in the background; only the crack of the remote being crushed under the force of Sunstreaker's hand, brought them back to the current situation.
"What's this about, 'Blue, wanting to go there'?" Sunstreaker inquired.
"Well," Sideswipe intaked sharply, mentally berating himself for even saying something. "It was just a suggestion Blue made earlier today."
"Why," Sunstreaker demanded, tone sharp and forceful.
"Well," Sideswipe rolled his optics to the side, dodging his twins harsh glare. "Blue is, how should I put this,"
"Just spit it out!" Sunstreaker rolled his optics and growled at his brother.
"Blue is unhappy here." Sideswipe said, his words rushed together as they tumbled out of his mouth. "I told 'im that there wasn't really something we could do. We're too,"
"Rough,"
"Yeah, rough," Sideswipe agreed.
Sunstreaker sighed and turned the television set; cutting the broadcast of a now angry gladiator rising up against what little government Cybertron had. What was there to make of this? Sideswipe was right: the twins were too rough and there wasn't any specific job that they could be useful for. There was another pause of silence, only there was nothing to cause distraction or add any foreign noise.
"What do you think about all of this?" Suntreaker said in a soft voice, almost inaudible. He turned his helm with his optics facing the rusted and black wall in front of him.
"I..." Sideswipe opened his mouth, then shut it again. He didn't know what to say. What was there to say? "I really don't know, Sunny; I really don't. I guess, if it makes Blue happy,"
Sunstreaker grunted in acknowledgement. In all truth, Sunstreaker wasn't all too thrilled about the possibility of moving to a high class, noble city. There wasn't anything that caught his optic or offered him a desired career. And to the pit if he became an artisan and lived off the crappy pay given to him for his paintings.
"What do you think, bro?" Sideswipe asked quietly. His azure optics were studying his rigid body language.
"What is there to offer to us? Blue could continue to sell, he's rather likable." Sunstreaker ignored the hurt pout that crossed his brothers face plates. "I am not about to live off the slag that artists get paid." Sunstreaker snorted.
"What about an enforcer? We've got the brawn for it." Sideswipe chuckled smugly.
"You mean, like what Prowl does?"
"Yeah, exactly,"
"And ruin my gorgeous paintjob? I don't think so. Besides, Prowl's an aft and you know it. Blue knows it too, he just won't admit it." Sunstreaker scoffed haughtily. This earned him a rolling of the optics from his brother and a deafening sigh.
Sideswipe looked around the dark living area. Blue, I don't know how to handle this, but I promise. His earlier conversation with Bluestreak rattled around in his mind. He had promised his mate though, whether he liked the idea or not. "Sunstreaker, I promised Blue that I would think about it and run it by you. I don't want to do anything that would leave us in a twist. I just want to do what Bluestreak wants and what makes him happy."
Sunstreaker looked at his twin and sighed. At least his brother was being honest. With a bout of unhappiness, the golden twin grumbled. "For Bluestreak,"
A/N: So, what'd you think? Go ahead: leave a comment on what you thought. Until next time...