The phoenix is a glorious sight to behold. It is strong, powerful, yet soothing and magnificent. It bursts into flames when it is time for it to die, and it is reborn from the ashes to become just as wonderful as it was before, though not neccessarily the same. Such can this analogy relate to my brother.
--
He loved the fights. He loved the crowds screaming and chanting his name when he won. He loved the thrill, the rush. He loved proving his strength again and again. But most of all, he loved seeing the expressions on his opponents' faces as they realized he wasn't going to spare them. The gladiator pits made him feel alive.
He hadn't always been like this. Sunstreaker looked down at his hands for a moment before clenching them tightly. Once the hands of a superbly talented and peaceful artist, they were now the precise, deadly hands of a killer. How? How could he have got himself so far lost? He looked over at the only mech who had ever stuck by him, the only one who knew him inside and out.
Sideswipe was currently in a fitful recharge as they were travelling towards the barracks of the Autobot soldiers. He was tossing and turning, muttering things Sunstreaker couldn't quite catch. The yellow mech placed a calming hand on his twin's helm, and he quieted a little.
How could he be so gentle, knowing he was nothing more than a cold-blooded killer? He considered the hand upon the horned helm for a moment, moving the thumb in a soothing motion. He didn't want to be. Not once he'd snapped out of it, anyway. It must have been horrible, frightening for his brother to see what he was becoming and unable to stop him.
He couldn't remember the exact point at which he shut down whatever allowed him to care about others. He hadn't wanted to be there at first. Not at all. When their hometown had been razed by the Decepticons, they had been captured and carted off instead of killed. He supposed they'd been recognized as warrior-type models. They were taken to an underground fighting ring, which they quickly learned was the biggest gladiator tournament on Cybertron. Sunstreaker had immediately recoiled in shock that he was expected to fight; he was a pacifist, an idealist. He wouldn't fight, he just wouldn't. He was the pheonix, strong, proud and perfect just the way he was.
But he did.
Their first match was a tag-team round against two very heavily-built and factionless mechs. Sideswipe, as he was accustomed to doing, stepped in first, determined to take them both down so Sunny wouldn't have to fight. The referee announced their names, and began the match.
It was brutal, it really was. Sunstreaker's growing horror wasn't helped when Sideswipe managed to render one of his opponent's arms useless by tearing it pretty much off at the shoulder, disconnecting and damaging relay wires. The mech tagged in with his partner, and immediately the fight became very favorable towards the factionless mechs. Sideswipe was, to all intents and purposes, getting his aft handed to him. The golden mech yelled at the same time as his brother did when his opponent rammed him though the abdomen with an energy sword.
Something seemed to stir into life within Sunny's processor, something dark and heavy, and he didn't like it. But it didn't seem to want to hurt him, so he let it in cautiously. And the next thing he knew, he was tagging Sideswipe out the ring and jumping in himself, launching his frame at his adversary. Two minutes later the mech was down and out, 'bleeding' sluggishly from several major energon lines. Sunstreaker's hands and chest were covered in the precious pink liquid, and let out a feral snarl at the other one who was pushed back in to take over from his downed partner.
That one went down in even less time.
As he stood over their unmoving frames, he noted the apparent lack of horror or revulsion on his part. It seemed as though he just didn't care. He stared down at them, optics blinking curiously, before he was dragged back to reality instead of the hazy world he'd just been residing in. He stepped back as the panic, dread and trepidation caught up with him in full force after their brief absence. He backed up, hand over mouth and bumping into Sideswipe, who wrapped his one good arm around his shoulders.
"What have I done?" He whispered brokenly. "What did I do? How could I?" He turned and buried his head in his brother's shoulder.
--
The change was gradual at first. So gradual, Sideswipe didn't notice until it was far too late. The more Sunny fought, the more comfortable he got. And the more comfortable he got, the closer he came to losing his grip on his true self.
And then he fell. Fell so suddenly and so quickly that Sideswipe didn't have a chance in the Pits to catch him. He burst into flames and died, right before my very optics. A one-on-one, against a heavily-armored, over-confident and loud-mouthed mech who was introduced as Jax. And Sunstreaker smiled. That smile sent shivers running through Sideswipe's frame; it was deadly, one of a mech pumped up and relishing a challenge, a dead smile reserved only for himself and his opponent as a testement to how much he was going to enjoy this. The bell rang, and the two of them went for each other's throats.
Five minutes later, and Sunstreaker had one foot propped up proudly on the unmoving frame of Jax, posing, flexing and roaring for the cheering and screaming crowd. As they were dragging Jax's empty frame past him, Sideswipe murmured, "I'm so sorry" to him. He turned his gaze back to his brother. He looked stunning as always, even with the myriad of scratches, bashes, dents and scrapes sweeping his frame. His golden armor shone with vibrance under the floodlights, and his victory grin was dazzling.
But it was all fake, the red twin mused in a small level of disgust. As soon as he left that ring he'd become obnoxious, demanding, snarky, hateful, lustful for another bout. And his optics...well, they weren't alive. There was no sparkle, no light to them as there once had been. They were dull, lifeless. And they looked at Sideswipe accusingly, as though blaming him for not catching his twin before he fell, blaming him for not noticing in time.
And for the first time, Sideswipe knew just what it was to be a ghost. There was nothing there in Sunny, it was just him. Alone.
--
The only reason they escaped that place was because the tournament had been compromised. For years it had raged on, unnoticed by the authorities and those who knew either didn't care or were too afraid to rat them out. But someone did. And now there were Autobots swarming the place, driving out spectators and owners alike. Some of the competitors tried to fight back, but they were swiftly taken care of. Despite Sunstreaker's vehement protests and promises of death and maiming, Sideswipe dragged him out of there and away from the pits. They ran. Ran as fast and as far away as they could. A few small fights along the way, nothing they couldn't handle, and they kept running. Sunny settled into a sullen silence; his thrill ride, his escape, was gone, all thanks to those fragging Autobots. They headed for a major city that was fairly nearby, and settled on the idea of signing up to the war effort permanently.
How Sideswipe eventually managed to convince Sunstreaker to sign up with said fragging Autobots is still a mystery to him today, but maybe it had something to do with the guarantees of hurting, maiming, killing, torturing and slagging the Decepticons, among other things. Whatever it was, they were sent to boot-camp. There, they were properly trained in the 'way of the warrior', as Sunny so sarcastically put it.
But it was while at the camp that Sideswipe saw some of the reversal changes in Sunstreaker. He very, very, very slowly began to rid himself of his uncaring, cold and monstrous being and revert back slightly to his more caring and gentle side. And that made Sideswipe the happiest mech in the world; he could feel his brother coming back to him. It was like a sense of having been away for a long, long time and finally coming back home. And that was fantastic.
--
They never told their history to anyone, and Sunstreaker found it far more convenient to keep up his cold exterior than let others see his gentler, happier side. That was reserved only for his twin, and that was the least he deserved. Through it all, he'd stuck by him. And Sunny owed him everything.
He painted again. Something he hadn't done in so long. The same fingers that killed so many mechs and femmes in the arena would delicately and lovingly add the tiniest details and colors to his pictures. They looked so alive, so vibrant. Sunstreaker's Spark went into each and every one of his pieces, and here that skill was again, creating those priceless, priceless paintings.
Watching Sunny fight now, he would never deny that he still got a thrill out of it. But he now fought with passion, with a purpose. He wanted things back to the way they were before the war. He was tired of killing, of hurting, of breaking and remaking. He fought for that dream, and to Sideswipe it showed. Oh, it showed. His brother was dreaming once more, he had his idealistic vision back again. That made him the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen to watch in battle. A new phoenix, reborn from the ashes of the previous one to rise up to its full glory again.
And he'd do anything to protect that. He wasn't going to lose Sunstreaker ever again.
Rae: And here's another little oneshot, this time with the twins. Is it good, is it bad? Review and tell me, please!
Love =3