Sixshot is based primarily on the Headmasters DVDs with some IDW used to flesh him out.

Sixshot sighed as he looked at the two-headed dragon. Tan-yellow jaws were still clamped around the remains of an arm, teeth working into the metal as if were a teething-ring, and if Sixshot didn't know better, the noises coming from his companion could be called moans.

Sixshot wasn't about to step in if they were. Sinnertwin was happy, stable.

It been maybe three vorns at best since the rest of the Gestalt had been lost. Since he'd almost lost Sinnertwin in the aftermath of that disastrous mission. Had opened up the still raw wound losing Danny had left. Weak, his mind had called him, to distress over the death of a Nebulon pet. He'd taken it – him – on in the middle of a war. Of course he'd lose the critter – humanoid.

At least Danny had died swiftly.

Sixshot forced it out of his processor. Here and now mattered. He could still lose the dragon. Sinnertwin's mental state was fragile. The move to split them up had been foolish, but at the time they'd had no choice; none had been happy and Hungrr had fought it tooth and claw. Megatron had done it anyway because that was what war was. You followed orders you hated, you obeyed, and you prayed to Primus you lived to see the next sunrise. The result of the battles that day had cost the Decepticons one of the most devastating units on the battlefield: Abominus.

(Sixshot often wondered if Megatron was still reeling from the loss of His Prime. Of the Guard Not Being There. He didn't voice it though. He had no desire to be scrapped just yet, or thrown about like Starscream. Slowly driven to insanity.

But the signs were there. Sixshot feared for the day Megatron realised what had happened.)

The day Abominus had fallen had won them ground overall, but the cost...

He couldn't forget even if he wanted.

Sixshot crouched as he cleaned his weapons off. The hilt of the Great Sword was stained dark-pink-purple, yet the jewel and blade shone to polished perfection. Not far away, Sinnetwin's alt-mode happily tore into on the remains of Autobots littering the battlefield, greedily gulping down energon or fluids without care. Sixshot thought it feral, but who was he to deny the Terrorcon? Hungrr and Blot did far worse.

The Great Sword sung as he returned it to its place on his back, and moved on to cleaning the rest of his weapons.

Then the dragon's first head jerked up, optics wide with alarm, energon dripping from its mouth. The second head joined it soon enough; all four optics swirling a pained white, tinged with yellow. Claws dug into the ground as his EM-field flared, screaming the glyphs of horror-pain-loss.

A split second later, twin shrieks hit the air as the dragon dropped, writhing in pain, claws digging into the ground. A terrifyingly sparkbreaking snarl followed, optics dropping to sickly, unstable yellows. The aperture was wider than it had any right to be. The dragon staring at Sixshot.

It lunged.

Sixshot stumbled back, though recovered quickly and threw his leg out in a kick that drove the Terrorcon backwards. He backflipped away, face and 'field echoing confusion.

"Sinnertwin?" The only reply was a snarl as the dragon lunged again. Sixshot twisted out of the way, sensors locked on the other Decepticon. This was Odd. Sinnertwin had no reason to attack him. Not since that first, accidental meeting that had gained him a fanclub.

/Hungrr-/

His comlink meet with static. Attempts to reach the others resulted in the same.

Sixshot's optics narrowed and battle mask snapped into place. Well. This was just his bundle of luck. He'd heard stories about broken Gestalt-links and how they drove the poor fraggers mental with the backlash. Monstructor and Piranhacon were prime examples. If the rest of the Terrorcons had passed to the Junkyard –

His hand shot out, deflecting Sinnertwin's attack yet again as the six-changer twisted around again, sidestepping the next attack, but not with ease. Sinnertwin was smaller and the other knew it. Sixshot knew he needed to remain alive to disable the fragger, but not kill him. A selfish desire perhaps, but he wasn't keen on losing one of the last links he had that kept him from joining the Reapers.

Easier said than done, given Sinnertwin only seemed to see enemies.

Oh well.

Sixshot had worked with less favourable odds. He'd once been Gigatron's bodyguard, and was a Phase-Sixer, one of the few who could take on mechs like Dai Atlas, Yoketron, Esmeral, Megatron, Overlord, Tarn, Krok. Or even Ultra Magnus, Strafe, Scorn, Huffer or Jazz.

Didn't mean he'd just stand there and allow the dragon to attack him though. He grabbed the two-headed creature in a choke-hold, grunting when Sinnertwin headbutted him, horns puncturing armour, but nothing vital. Sixshot rolled with it and seemed to shake it off. He shoved him away, lashing out with a roundhouse to the chest. Unfortunately, the dragon just went with the kick, using its momentum to lash out with his tail. Sixshot grunted, barely able to jump over the tail while avoiding the snap of jaws from the right head. There was no rhyme or reason to the attacks. They came in bursts and sometimes Sinnertwin would back off, whimpering as his optics flickering red before returning to the yellow state.

He's confused, Sixshot realised. Confused, in pain, hurting. It'd be kinder to kill him-

Sixshot shoved the idea away. He had precious few friends. He wasn't going to mercy kill one of them. A selfish, selfish want, but he couldn't do it. He doubted many could actually kill a friend. For as brutal as they were, Decepticons clung to what they could.

But, Sinnertwin needed to be stopped. Emotion shoved down, sealed under lock and key, Sixshot dove head first into war-programming. He was a STAG warrior; a weapon and unstoppable machine. Sinnertwin came at him yet again, teeth sinking into metal. Sixshot pulled his fist back and smashed it into the head while it was holding onto him. When the crazed Terrorcon drew back, he grabbed one of the necks and squeezed, aiming to choke off the air flow. The other head didn't seem to know what to do.

Sixshot's smile was grim as he squeezed tighter, willing Sinnertwin to yield.

Sinnertwin lashed out with a yowl of pain/fear, seemingly uncaring of the damage done to him as long as he could inflict pain on his tormentor.

Ahh slag. Primus hated him. So it was going to be the hard way? Fine by him. When the left head came in for another attack, he grabbed it, claws sinking into the optics as he used momentum to shove the smaller forward. But Sinnertwin was no pushover, and when he couldn't get free of the hand blinding him by struggling, he tried transforming.

Sixshot let him, knowing the damage to the optics would translate to one of the root-mode optics. A handy, if not annoying, feature of bestial modes. Yet Sinnertwin was barely in root-mode before he was slammed face first into the dirt of Animatros, Sixshot landing heavily on top of him. While Sinnertwin struggled to get free, Sixshot pulled an energon knife from subspace and jammed that into a shoulder with a brutal twist.

The Ninja took no joy or pleasure from the yowl of pain, nor the way his friend struggled to get him off. His only aim now was to force shutdown from overheating. Hopefully that would give the broken links a chance to scar over. Well, that was the theory based on the fiasco when Skalor had offlined. But that had been only one mech, and the Seacons were still around. How sane they were was anyone's guess and only the strongest of mechs poked that scrap pile, if simply to keep an optic on them. The less said about Monstructor the better.

Sinnertwin had lost his whole Gestalt. Realistically, he'd likely need to be put down.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the frantic struggles eased and Sixshot chanced rolling the other around to face him. The optics were still a panicked yellow that bled to red then back to yellow, aperture still wide. Frightened and in pain.

Sixshot smiled grimly under his battlemask. While he couldn't do anything to fix the Gestalt programming, the flash of red gave him hope he could maybe keep him on the sanity side of the scrap pile.

"Enough. This won't solve anything!"

The only reply was a pathetically weak snarl, yet Sixshot refused to give an inch. Losing this fight meant losing Sinnertwin; unacceptable. If it was a selfish whim of what empathy he still retained, or a fear of being alone, Sixshot didn't know, didn't care and refused to consider the second option.

Sinnertwin bucked and struggled, and Sixshot head-butted him.

The overclocked mech fell limp, and Sixshot sat up, allowing cool air into his systems as he studied Sinnertwin. The Decepticon was shivering. whimpering, vents a hollow stutter; a good sign Gestalt-links were scarring over. Hopefully.

Primus willing, Sinnertwin would remain sane, or near enough.

Sixshot stood with a wince, finally allowing damage reports to scroll across his HUD. Some were red, most were not. Most of them were superficial, but he ignored them all. Sinnertwin could give as good as he got. He picked the fallen mechaniod up, slung him over a shoulder, and headed back towards the ship.

He'd give basic repairs, then see where things went from there. If Sinnertwin was irrevocably insane, then he'd have to kill him.

It would be a mercy, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.