Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers

Hasbro owns Transformers


Chapter One Acrylic Paint


He could have sworn that a permanent scowl was carved on his face for about an hour now. Throughout the whole damn gallery, he kept it on his face. People would glance at him with worried or quizzical expressions. Some were showing their annoyance at his displeasure more obviously than others. He, however, would simply brush their gazes away with no interest.

So now, he stood with his arms firmly crossed over his chest and his hip slightly cocked to the side. His stance was relaxed and comfortable showing no signs of a mind to anyone who saw him. He titled his head again for the millionth time and grumbled.

He had enough of the bland artwork that was displayed in front of him. Two canvases, each painted a solid red and blue hung next to each other. He looked around himself seeing people take photos of the work, They were truly impressed? Was there even a message behind the work? If so, it was hard to decipher. That, or he gave up very easily. He doubted it was that though.

How could humans be so dense?

With a huff he moved on to the next picture. Oh for Primus sake. He thought. Not another geometrical expression piece. He moved on not bothering to examine the squares, triangles, and circles that purged out solid rainbows. Is this what the humans were teaching to young apprentices at these so called universities?

Another sigh.

Where was the emotion? The hard effort? The feelings placed upon canvas that proved to show emotions and an objector? Where were the gentle maidens wishing upon stars? Where were the cafés, the busy streets, the starry nights, flowers, and fields? Where was the heart and color?

The mech named Sunstreaker had enough of this particular gallery. He was only here to kill the time, after all. Shoving his hands into his holoform's jean pockets, he mumbled under his breath again and walked on. Back on Cybertron all this work would have been immediately criticized for simple mindedness. Artists were to challenge the norm but not lose their viewers intent doing so. And this had lost his attention very long ago.

Just as he was about to go on the elevator to leave, another corridor that branched off to the side caught his attention. It was mostly empty and poorly lit, most likely because of the lesser amount of new artwork on the walls. Sunstreaker paused in his step and glanced at a couple who walked right past it. Shouldn't they at least give the corridor a glance? Sunstreaker sighed and rolled his eyes at his own ironic declaration. He supposed he should to…

He walked past the elevator and continued to walk at a slow pace. He was in no rush to see more triangles and rainbows being poured from a human eye.

The holoform turned the corner and prepared himself, expecting the same. But no. Sunstreaker was very pleasantly surprised.

It was as if he wanted to run forward and brush his hands over the large canvas. Instead, he walked in front of the bench that was in front of the piece of work. His eyes traveled all over the canvas, taking every detail in.

Before him was an acrylic painting of a lone girl sitting at a table with a coffee mug in front of her. Wistfully she was looking out the window. Her elbows rested on the table while her hands were gently clasped behind her neck. He cringed at the small mistakes in the hands. He could admit, being a seasoned artist, he hadn't quiet mastered hands yet either. A small smile came to his lips as hope rose in his spark.

Each brushstroke was amazing. He looked closer almost touching the dried raised acrylic with his fingertips. He narrowed his eyes. He could point out the different brush strokes, the water used, and not used in certain areas. The mech could tell from the angry strokes, from the sad strokes, to quick and stressed and calm to soothing. Whoever created this work of art must have known what they were doing.

There was emotion and feeling. There was a message and a sad almost reluctant feel to the work. He backed away realizing his hand was touching the work. He cleared his throat and finally took notice of a young woman sitting behind him on the bench. He spun around completely, embarrassed at being caught off guard.

She didn't seem to notice as she smiled sadly. She was sitting cross-legged while her arms rested at her sides. She was wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. Paint was smeared at her cuffs and splattered on her raggy originally white shoes.

She stood up, her medium length brown hair curtaining her face. "Messed up on the hands a bit."

Sunstreaker looked back at the woman in the painting. He noticed the hands because he studied it carefully, but from afar there seemed to be no problem.

"Hair is astray…"

Alright, a little.

"Face is crocked…"

A little but minor, nothing bad.

"Body out of proportion."

Definitely yes, but he assumed she was only an apprentice. It was acceptable to be so messy at first.

"And the sky. The horizon doesn't meet with the sky or the sun. All in all I am not wondering why I am not getting any viewers in here." Her voice was humored, sad, accepting, and disgruntled all at the same time. Sunstreaker exchanged glances from her to the canvas.

He tilted his head and looked at the title. "Woman and coffee." He cringed. Okay. Maybe it needed a better title also…

"I think those humans over there are missing out truthful art." He said. He didn't mean for his words to sound kind. He slunk away a bit. He was just angry that the humans could be so simple minded. The whole race could be so simple minded.

She laughed. It was genuine but it was out of good manners. "Humans? Tell me, why do you think those humans are missing out on this truth?"

He was about to growl and walk away regretting ever speaking to her. If she wanted to degrade her work and then ask for compliments based on his fact, he wanted none of it. Artists were to take pride in their work no matter how badly they messed up. There are no such thing as a failed work in the art world. Only learning and improving.

"Traditional art is hard to come by is all I meant." He huff and started to walk away. She held out a hand. "Wait. Please. What made you come over here? Away from the popular art? Away from them? Why come to this corridor?"

Sunstreaker was saddened by the question at first. Her expression mirrored that of the woman in her painting. Why the frag did he come here? He was bored but why here? He gave up art hundreds of years ago ever since-. "Because it was away from the humans, alright? I don't like crowds." He said in frustration cutting his thoughts purposely.

She smiled at him again. Damn that stupid smile. Why was she smiling?

"Humans…" She said as if it sounded weird to her.

"Yes, is that what you are? Human?"

She looked back up. "And you are?" She asked bowing forward.

He was about to say who he was but he refrained. "Goodbye." Sunstreaker simply walked away. He heard her create a sound of surprise and sadness but he forced the pained sound from his mind. He continued to walk away and with each step it was painful. Why? Why was it painful? She wasn't special. Was she? She held potential but why did he care. He just came here to waste time.

He paused again and sighed irritably. A thought came to his mind but he ignored it. He looked back up and saw all the geometrical showings on the walls in front of him highlighted by the sun pouring from the windows. He looked behind him and saw the lowly lit corridor, dark and sad. Sunstreaker grumbled.

Why did he care…?

His scowl turned into sadness as he finally creased his eyebrows in concern. Would he have wanted this? The thought made his spark writhe in pain and he had to close his eyes to fight it off. The calling was there before him. To start anew...but could he?

The holoform relaxed when the pain went away and turned on his heel walking with more gentle and firmer steps. He wouldn't have.

He turned into the corridor and saw the young woman sitting on the bench looking at her artwork. From behind Sunstreaker managed to take her full appearance. She was on the larger side, not too tall or short. When he was standing next to her she was shorter than him. But he was taller than anyone. Even in his true form he was a bit taller than some mechs.

Upon examining her Sunstreaker felt underportrayed. His holoform was a mirror image of his Cybertronian form only in human form. He was lanky and tall, strong but not built. His dark hair was on the long side, reaching his mid back. Currently it was tied back by a thin hair tie. He wore simple jeans, work boots, a polo and a leather jacket for appearance. Even if it was ninety degrees outside, in San Francisco you couldn't go wrong with style.

He slowly approached her from behind, his footfalls echoing around her. He looked behind himself seeing he was the only one there with her. He could let his outer wall come down right? He was doing this for him right?

He shuffled but his didn't seem to catch her attention. She had her head resting in the palm of her hand as she leaned her elbow on her knee.

Sunstreaker looked back up at the painting and titled his head. "The hair can be improved by using different amounts of water to the acrylic. Light highlights use less paint and more water. Base hair uses more paint and less water."

He paused to see if she got her attention or to see if she was listening. He raised an eyebrow and a smile ticked off at the corner or his lips. He looked back up at the painting. "Crooked faces can be solved by using face graphs. What you see is not always what you draw."

Pause. A glance. Look back up.

"Body proportions can be done different ways. With a good teacher you can find your own method to use to find the right style and appearance."

Pause. A glance. Look back up.

"The horizon and sky are only off because you used to much dark paint. The more distant objects are in a painting, the lighter they become. No big problem."

Pause. A glance. She was looking behind herself to him with a new twinkle to her eye. He smiled. A rarity these days. Even to himself. "And hands, well, I never really perfected them down either. So, I guess, I do not have any advice for that." He used his eyes to indicate the title. "A more creative name would help too." A shrug of a shoulder.

She narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow. She kept the gaze as she reached in her pocket. Sunstreaker felt uneasy by her creepy glare and his smile disappeared. He shifted on his feet and watched as she brought out a piece of gum, popped into her mouth and started chewing it.

She stood up and placed a firm foot on the bench and looked at him. "Who are you?"

He fumbled over his own words. It was a while since he had. "An artist, well ex, artist. I stopped a long time ago."

"You're only twenty-something. How long is long ago?"

Sunstreaker matched her still awkward glare. "What are you trying to get at, human? I am just trying to help. You were begging for my opinion a minute ago now you are playing detective."

The glare was softened and it turned into that stupid Unicron pitted damned smile. Sunstreaker was bristling now. Why, oh why did his kindness have to slam back into his face?

"Seems like you know your stuff, hot shot."

Hot shot? He did not look like Hot-oh the human term not the actual spawn of a glitch. "I do." He agreed.

She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. In that moment he could have sworn he saw himself in her. She was using a skeptical glare now. She suddenly broke it off looking at the ground. It became sad. Sunstreaker was fighting to walk away. This human was careful with her words yet so reveling with her facial expressions. It made him less patient with the woman and yet...he was entertained by her.

"…I don't go here or to this university. I sneak into the classes here and try to learn but I can't. I try…but..."

Sunstreaker raised an eyebrow. Her raggy clothes weren't just raggy because they were work clothes. Now, he was now listening. "My parents and I became bankrupt. We couldn't sustain ourselves because..." It was a sore topic, he knew. She avoided it. "… I was let off alone in the world after I got out of my senior year in high school. My parents live on welfare now." She looked up. "You know where that leads."

This time the mech lost his skeptical expression as she continued to speak. Hewas interest as to why was she telling him her life's story. Did he seem that interested in her?

"So, what I am asking, I mean you know your stuff apparently, and this might sound like a lot but could…could you teach me, you know art?" She looked back at him with a hopeful sparkle to her eye. She didn't seem desperate knowing that he might turn her down. The holoform could tell she asked many people many times and they turned her down.

Sure he felt pity for the girl but how would he teach her? Surely she had supplies. Maybe use a fake credit card to buy some paint wouldn't hurt but where would he hide? How would he hide his true form from her? And he only knew Cybertronian art techniques. Human techniques were inferior to Cybertronian. He supposed he could teach a mix of both. He narrowed his eyes. This was if he was going to teach her anyhow.

He was silent for a while and this made her panic. He looked back to her. "Please, just a couple of sessions. I'll pay you back the best I can." So, she was desperate.

Sunstreaker cleared his throat. "Alright, first off." He started out a small smile returning to his lips. "I don't know your name."

"I don't know yours either and I rather keep it that way."

"Why?" He asked narrowing his eyes again. Strange.

"Don't avoid my question."

Sunstreaker balked. "I'm not! I thought it was appropriate!" He placed a hand on his hip.

She smiled at this. That smile...infuriated him.

"Just a yes or no will do. We could meet at my apartment every other day. I have the supplies. It's not a lot and they're not the brand name quality but it's something."

Sunstreaker shook his head. "Alright, fine, fine. Where do you live, what time?" He said standing straight again.

"Doesn't matter, whenever you want. Except on the weekends. I only work on weekends. I live in the Westside Apartments level 4, 34 A."

Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chest. "I feel like you've done this before."

She stopped chewing her gum and looked away. "Yes, I'm desperate you know? I have to get this scholarship. The deadline is coming up in two months. I've asked a lot of people to teach me but they never give me the callback. I need this scholarship so I can get into art school. But every time I enter they turn me away. My stuff isn't good enough."

"It's not like that boring work over there?" He said as if he was translated her words.

"Yeah…I guess." She looked away again.

He relaxed his pose a bit seeing he was a little intimidating. "Anyone can do that."

She looked up and smiled. He didn't return it. "Alright, fine. I will come by tomorrow. I will see what you have and go from there."

She nodded her head. "Yeah? What time?"

"Whenever I feel like it."

His answer made her uneasy and he tilted his head. "I am not one to go against my word." Sunstreaker paused. Once again his words came out to be nicer than he wanted them to be. He jammed his hands into his pockets and walked away a slight pout still on his lips.

She watched him go and looked back at her painting with a hopeful twinkle to her eye. She was about to look back to him but he was already gone.


Nighttime driving was always soothing to the mech. His powerful v-12 engine roared and growled in the dark, practically declaring his approach on a driver and then the disappearing howl as he passed.

Going well over the speed limit, the golden yellow Aventador Lamborghini sped by yet another driver, the red glow of his taillights trailing ahead and dimming. He went by a cop car, but successfully jammed the vehicle's radar. He was safe from the human for now.

Sunstreaker shifted gears, his engine compensating for the change in speed with a guttural growl. He pushed forward passing by another Lamborghini. It was older, a classic model but it did not fail to bring a pained jab in his spark. This time he almost had to pull over. With a growl of his own he pushed forward. He had to ignore the pain and just drive, taking the frustration out on the road

For about a month, the mech had been stranded in San Francisco. All his radar, spark signature and navigation systems had been blown out and jarred from his arrival on earth. Now he hid and hoped for the best, that another Autobot would find his signature or that he would find the other remaining Autobots on this planet. The sole reason he came here, to rejoin his Autobot warriors. Maybe perhaps he came here looking for more.

He passed by another car, this time their horn blared at his dangerous driving. He ignored it, not even giving the grey sedan a side glance.

With curiosity Sunstreaker brought up the mental picture of the women he met at the gallery. He studied the image of her and he found himself musing over her smile. That stupid smile that made him so angry and yet assured and relaxed.

He found that he was slowing down as his thoughts brought him to a more relaxed state. Could this be Primus tempting his fate again? Could it be a sign to finally move on and go back to what he loved the most? Was that the reason why he didn't turn her down like he thought originally?

The question made him swim in his unsure and shaky confidence. All old emotions and past memories flooded his mind, open and chaotic. His spark ached and thrummed against its casing painfully. He wasn't willing to go through that again. No, he had suffered enough.

He made the picture of her go away and growled once again gaining speed. His engine howled into the night as he drove onto an exit ramp. This was all because of a stupid human.