In the Echoing Silence

Disclaimer: The Transformers belong to Hasbro, not me, though I do own the original characters needed for this story.

Author's Note: This takes place on Cybertron, before Bluestreak's city was destroyed. According to his bio, he talks in order to keep himself sane. It's therefore reasonable to assume that he didn't talk as much before there was a threat to his sanity.

Author's Note 2: I've looked at lists of Transformers time units, and it's all fairly confusing and contradictory depending on what you use as a source (I go by the G1 cartoon for the most part). Because of this, and also to make this easier to read, I'm translating all time units into human.

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It happened between one air intake and the next, a moment of perfect silence when even the wind he'd sensed against his doorwings stilled, as if it too was straining to hear the faintest sound. And in that perfect, frozen moment, the young hunter model caressed the trigger of his rifle, smoothly pulling it back and watching the released beam of light as it sped through the junkyard towards its target.

It hit its mark and the moment was gone. He drew in that next intake of air as the wind returned and the silence was shattered by the screech of a dying energy leech and a panicked scream. He felt satisfaction in the shot and a wistful longing for that perfect moment, but then both emotions were washed away by guilt. Shard may have screwed him over, but that didn't give him the right to frighten his friend.

"What in the pit is wrong with you, you lunatic?" Shard shrieked, his voice higher than usual.

"Sorry about that," Bluestreak called out, picking up his collection bag and trotting over to the other mech and the dead parasite. He grabbed the fat metal creature and held it up. It didn't latch onto Shard, but it looks like this fella's been eating well. "You had an unwelcome admirer. It must be a femme. You know that custom frame of yours drives them all wild."

"Oh, shut up and put that thing down." Shard shuddered in disgust, his faceted, prismatic outer plating catching and reflecting the distant city lights in a shimmering pattern that overlaid the dark blue base. "It's disgusting."

"It's dinner," Bluestreak corrected, a slight edge to his voice as he dropped the energy leech into his bag with the bits of wire and colored glass he'd collected so far. "Energy is energy, and we can't exactly afford the good stuff right now." Because of you.

The words weren't spoken, but they were evident in the hostile cant of doorwings and the brief, angry flash of green optics.

Shard's purple optics dimmed slightly in a wince, and he looked away. "I'm sorry, okay? I thought I'd at least break even. I didn't mean to lose the rent credits."

"How about stealing them from me in the first place? Did you mean to do that, or did they just magically get into your subspace on their own after you gave me your share?" Bluestreak snapped before he could stop himself. He knew from years of being Shard's friend and roommate that getting angry never solved anything.

"Slag it, Blue, what's done is done! Being nasty about it isn't going to bring the credits back." Shard glared at him and crossed his arms over his chest. "I know I screwed up, okay? You don't have to rub it in. Maybe I should have just died with the rest of my family so I wouldn't be such a burden and inconvenience to you."

Bluestreak sighed, his doorwings drooping. Frag it, I'm such a jerk, he thought. He'd had to deplete what little savings he'd had to manage his half of the rent for a second time and to cover Shard's as well, but that was nothing compared to the hardships Shard had endured in his life. "I'm sorry. I just-"

"You just what? Forgot that I lost my family and lifestyle because of the stupid war between the Autobots and the Decepticons?"

"I'm sorry," Bluestreak repeated in a barely audible whisper. He was all that Shard had, and sometimes he hated it. It was hard being the other mech's only anchor.

"Hn. Well, there is something you could do for me if you really are sorry," Shard said, a sly tone in his voice.

Bluestreak sighed in relief and hefted the sack over his shoulder. If Shard was already asking for favors, then he wasn't too upset. "Come on. You can tell me about it after we leave the junkyard. I still have work to do."

They continued trudging through the piles of junk, Bluestreak stopping every once in a while to collect any particularly nice chunks of metal, shiny wires, or bright pieces of glass. His sister would be able to make sculptures from the metal while he could use the wires and glass to create body ornaments.

He was reaching down for a glittering piece of purple glass fifteen minutes later when he felt it: the tingle of a sonar hit against the delicate sensors in his right doorwing. He swiftly rose to his feet and pulled his gun from subspace, both doorwings twitching as they detected the exact wind speed and direction. He adjusted his aim accordingly and fired into the air, smiling as a large boltbat dropped from the sky.

He laughed and glanced over at Shard with a grin, his mood greatly improved. "Was that an awesome shot, or what?"

"Oh wow, a hunter model managed to shoot something. How impressive," Shard drawled with good-natured sarcasm as said hunter model grabbed and bagged the bat.

"Pfft. Not all hunters are created equal, you know. Silver couldn't have done it." It was true, but he immediately felt bad for saying it. Silverstreak spent a lot of her time minding the shop and didn't have a lot to spare for practicing her aim. "Come on, let's head back to the city."

They took their time as they waded back through the junk. Bluestreak wasn't in any hurry to hear about the favor Shard wanted – they had a tendency to get him into trouble – and he enjoyed the silence of the junkyard. Oh, he liked the hustle and bustle of the city as much as the next mech, but he'd always found silence oddly soothing and peaceful. The walk to the gate couldn't last forever, though, and his friend began speaking the moment they went through it.

"So, about that favor. I owe some people, and they said they'd forgive it if I could find them a shooter."

Bluestreak stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Shard incredulously. "You want me to shoot someone? Are you insane?"

"No, no, no, they don't need anyone shot," the crystalline mech hurriedly assured him. "That's why they want someone really good with a gun, so there won't be any accidental shooting."

The gray hunter nodded slightly and started walking again. That actually made some sense. The less familiar someone was with a gun, the more likely they were to shoot it when they didn't mean to. "What's the job?"

"They just want to send you with one of their guys tomorrow to have a talk with some deadbeat slagger who isn't doing a thing about what he owes them. Your job is just to scare him a bit. You can do that, right, Blue?"

Bluestreak heaved a long, drawn-out sigh, his doorwings drooping all the way down. "Yeah, I can do that," he mumbled. He didn't want to, but he could, and would, do it.

"Thanks, Blue." Shard patted him on the shoulder, either ignoring or unaware of the universal signal of hunter unhappiness.

Could be either. In five years of living in a predominantly hunter section of the city, he's never bothered to learn much doorwing, and he doesn't really give a slag about other people's feelings. Bluestreak mentally winced at the uncharitable thought. It had to be hard to make an emotional attachment to people after losing everyone you cared about. I lost my creators, but I still have Silver.

"Hey, Shard, wait!" he called out as his friend headed off towards their apartment. He pulled the boltbat out of his bag and tossed it to him. "Your dinner."

Shard caught the bat and looked at it in mild disgust. "Ah well, at least it isn't a leech. See you later, Blue."

Once he was out of sight, Bluestreak forced his doorwings up into a cheerful cant and started towards his sister's shop.

"I'm back," Bluestreak called as he entered the shop. It was small and dim, but the merchandise was neatly arranged and everything was clean. Unfortunately, it was also empty save for Bluestreak himself and the silvery-blue hunter femme behind the counter. They sold a few useful things and basic energy rations, but most of their stock was knickknacks, which weren't selling well due to the war.

"Hey there, baby Blue," Silverstreak said with a smile, her doorwings sweeping upward in a pleased greeting.

He twitched his own up into a similar greeting as he approached, then flicked them in amused irritation. "Don't call me that," he grumbled. "I'm not a sparkling anymore."

"You'll always be a sparkling to me, little brother." She grinned impishly at him as he passed the counter on his way to the back room. "Just be glad I stopped covering you in glitter and pink temporary paint after you upgraded from your sparkling body shell."

"We both know you only stopped doing that because I looked cuter in all that femme stuff than you did," he said with a wicked little smirk. He laughed and darted into the back, just barely avoiding the mini-buffer she threw at him.

With a slight bounce to his step, he went to his work area and rummaged through one of the desk drawers until he found an energy siphon, some adhesive, and a handful of magnets. Then he settled himself on top of the desk and began looking through the things in his bag, taking out the leech and several wires and glass fragments.

The intricate little body ornaments he made were one of the few non-essentials that were selling well, though it was for a fairly depressing reason. There were only so many body types per city section, and the ornaments were an extra way of identifying the bodies of loved ones if they got caught between the Autobots and Decepticons.

Once he'd selected the wires and glass he wanted, he punctured the leech with the siphon and took a drink, shuddering slightly at the weird after taste. Bleh. I don't think I want to know what this thing's been eating. Oh well, it tastes terrible but energy is energy.

"Bluestreak!" He jerked at the outraged shriek, coughing as the energy tried to go down his air intakes. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Um… making body ornaments and having dinner?" he replied once his coughing fit was over. Silverstreak stood at the doorway, optics bright with indignation.

She marched over to him and snatched the leech away. "No, Bluestreak. Bad." There was a clang as she smacked him on the head with it as if he were a misbehaving cyberpuppy. "This is not food. It's a parasite. We put them in the trash, not our mouths."

"Ugh. You are Shard are both so squeamish. Okay, leeches aren't the best tasting things out there, but no one has ever died from eating one." He thought about that for a minute and about all of the dubious energy sources leeches had access to. "Probably."

Silverstreak just glared at him and swept out the door with the leech, muttering something unflattering about the intelligence of young mechs. She came back a few minutes later, sans leech, and set an energy ration on the desk beside him. He stared at it uneasily. He was still a youngling, and she was still technically his guardian, but he didn't like it when she had to go out of her way to take care of him.

"Don't frown at it, drink it," she snapped. "It's my merchandise, and I can do whatever I want with it, including pouring it down your throat if necessary."

He could tell from her tone that she really would do it, so he picked up the energy ration, muttering under his breath about overprotective worrywarts. He expected her to leave, but she stayed, quietly watching as he started weaving together one of his creations, using the adhesive to attach magnets and bits of glass to the multi-colored wires.

Silverstreak gently took it from him once he finished and set a small pile of credits on the desk. "I'm buying this one," she said softly before he could protest. "Your landlady contacted me today and told me what happened. She said she would have let you slide this rent period, except she knew it would upset you."

He started to explain, but she shook her head, silently cutting him off. "I don't want to hear you defend him, Blue. He's a self-centered user, and the only reason he's your friend and roommate is because you're too nice for your own good. I'm not going to tell you who you can be friends with, and I'm not going to try to run your life. But I slagging well am going to do whatever I can to make sure you're properly taken care of."

She went back to the main part of the shop then, leaving Bluestreak alone to work and think about the friendship that usually made him feel alone and emotionally exhausted.