Title: Caught out
Universe: G1 (SoaL/Echoes compliant)
Rating: K+
A/N: based on a prompt from arliawriter. Fits as a one-shot for Echoes
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, I make no profit from this, I'm just having fun.
Kaon. Sunstreaker's least favourite city. Everything was loud and garish and violence could erupt at any time; the Enforcers had never really had control over the city inhabitants, even before the latest unrest.
He had come this time for the same reason that had brought him the last three times: to replenish his supply of the hard to come by ferrous paint.
Sideswipe grumbled that his suppliers could get it without requiring a trip to the city, but they never did proper quality checks, allowing contaminants into the mix. By coming himself he could be sure it was pure.
Even so, this might be his last trip. The city had always been dangerous, but this time even he felt on edge. There were signs of recent riots, and many of the retailers had closed their shops. His supplier had been nervous the whole time, demanding an exorbitant price for a tiny amount and then slamming the door shut on him once the transaction was complete.
Heading back out onto the main thoroughfare, he was mildly disturbed to find the crowds dispersing. Probably off to watch a fresh clash between Enforcers and the Decepticons, he decided. Nothing to do with him. And then a drop of fluid landed on his shoulder.
He winced, looking up. There had been no alert for an acid rain storm in this area today; nevertheless, there was one brewing and he needed to find shelter. Looking about, he saw that the architecture offered little in the way of cover, he needed to get inside. But all the doors were shut tight, and he could see no sign of the public shelters that had been erected in almost every city since this menace began.
His dismay turned to alarm as the scattered drops became more persistent and a trickle made it through to the wires in his elbow. As concerned as he always was with his appearance, this took priority: with Ordan Helix gone, medics were few and far between and self-taught techs charged huge sums for shoddy work. Assuming he found some shelter before the storm simply melted him away.
Movement to his right made him duck down a small alley. A tetrajet had just landed and was entering a small residence. Bolting after him, he barged his way in before the door could close, knocking the tetrajet sprawling.
"Hey!" the flier roared, shoving him down. "You can't come in here."
"Well I sure as slag can't stay out there." Sunstreaker growled back. "This is the last time I come to Kaon - where are your shelters?"
"There are no shelters in Kaon." another mech told him, offering a hand to help him up. "The Autobots keep destroying them."
"I didn't think there were any Autobots in Kaon. Thought they were all in Iacon."
"The Autobots are everywhere." his host told him, gesturing to a chair. "And bringing anarchy in their wake."
"Don't you mean the Decepticons?" Sunstreaker grunted, examining the damage to his elbow.
The tetrajet began to protest but the silver mech motioned him to silence.
"The Decepticons are merely fighting against injustice. Should they allow the Council to deny them access to Vector Sigma? To restrict their energon supply? To deny them representation?"
"Doesn't mean they had to poison the atmosphere and cause the acid rain."
"They didn't. That's pure propaganda."
Relieved to find that the nanites were quickly fixing the damage to his elbow and that he would not need to find assistance, Sunstreaker finally took a good look at his host. A silver military mech, gunformer if he judged the form correctly. Important enough that this tetrajet - a model ever-derisive of non-fliers - would hold his temper and words at a simple gesture.
Sudden cold certainty washed over him.
"You're Megatron."
"And you're uniquely unafraid." the Decepticon leader mused. "Why are you visiting Kaon, friend?"
"I'm an artist. I was buying paint."
He unsubspaced one pot which the tetrajet snatched off him and opened clumsily, spilling the precious red substance over himself and the floor.
"Careful with that, it'll stain if you don't wash it off quickly."
"An artist." Megatron mused as the tetrajet disappeared into a back room, swearing. "Yet you have the frame of a fighter. A gladiator, in fact."
"There's no point trying to recruit me, I'm not a soldier."
"Many have said the same, you would be surprised at how well you would fit in our ranks."
"Maybe. I'd have to check with my... partner, first."
He avoided saying 'brother'. This mech was dangerous, and already knew too much about him: discovering that he was a twin would only mean Megatron could track him anywhere on the planet.
"Another artist?"
"Yes." Sunstreaker lied.
"I see."
There was an awkward silence, then Megatron gestured to the window.
"It seems the rain has passed for now. I'm sure you'll want to hurry back to your... partner."
Slightly disbelieving that it was going to end as simply as that, Sunstreaker rose and began to walk towards the door. He had lost a whole pot of the precious paint, but he had no intention of trying to reclaim or replace it. It was not worth the cost.
"Do make sure you make a choice before the choice is made for you." Megatron called as he opened the door. "Time is quickly running out for those who haven't chosen a side."
He left without turning around. He was never returning to Kaon. Never.
