Sunday Service

AN: MERRY CHRISTMAS to all! Been slow in writing lately. Computer is 'fixed'… for now. Wasn't able to get a new one for Black Friday. Oh well. Least this one is holding on for dear life!

Been super busy volunteering at church and doing home repair/maintenance. Glad the year is nearly over! I need a couple weeks to rest and recovery my energy, maybe get some more writing in and have another post ready come New Year. Who knows? We'll see.

Reviews make the world go round… hint hint.

-o-

o-o

-o-

Sunstreaker hated patrol. The Cons rarely got into trouble, there was always an annoying mixture of precipitate, and worst of all, humans in non-sentient cars with speed limits.

Sunstreaker longed for the days on Cybertron where he could race as fast as his engine would allow. The feel of air caressing his frame. Centrifugal force lowering him to the road, granting him greater speed. He also enjoyed the open road without clogging traffic. The only good thing to come from the war, and he would never voice such feelings out loud, was the traffic had been greatly reduced.

Where once millions of Cybertronians and their transports clogged up the streets and skies above, now the roads and skies were clear, giving bots freedom to exercise their engines and forget their worries.

But not on Earth. On Earth, not only were the roads full of traffic, but they were slow moving. Speed limits were given to the inadequate vehicles, ensuring the motorists didn't overtax the engines of their non-sentient transports.

It was so tedious.

Sunstreaker refused to do patrol during peak human traffic hours, namely between 7 and 9 in the morning and 4 to 6 in the evenings. When Prowl insisted Sunstreaker travel during those rigorous, torturous hours, Sunstreaker argued that if the Cons did attack, the Autobots would be stuck in traffic, unable to join the fight.

Prowl countered they could always transform and walk away from a traffic jam, but Sunstreaker pointed out the few times this had happened.

And the subsequent traffic tickets for what was deemed by local law enforcement as 'joyriding' and 'endangering traffic'… by standing up and stepping over cars to walk off the freeway.

Sunstreaker, ever the shrewd bot, struck a deal. He'd spend an entire weekend patrolling if Prowl kept him off the weekday rotation. Given that so many bots wanted the weekend off to relax, it was an easy trade off.

This particular day started out well, cloudy skies and cool breeze that felt good going through a tired frame, but mid-afternoon it began to turn sour. Consequently, Sunstreaker's mood followed suit, becoming foul.

Red Alert kept a constant nag over comms to the point Sunstreaker had to curse him violently before turning off the comms. Honestly, there was only so much Sunstreaker could take! The spastic security director was treading on very thin asphalt. And given he had known Sunstreaker for eons, he couldn't claim ignorance when Sunstreaker snapped and lashed out.

Sunstreaker worked hard to control his temper, but some times, some days, some bots, just rubbed his circuits the wrong way and he answered the antagonism the same way he answered everything.

Violently.

It was the only thing that calmed his spark and settled his nerves. What put the world in order. At least, Sunstreaker's world. Being physical was the only way to alleviate the build up of tension, anxiety, and anger. A cork, popping off a bottle of carbonated liquid. One could only shake it so long before it exploded.

Sunstreaker was reaching said tipping point.

He ran off the road twice he was so angry. Usually he loved to drive, exercising his wheels, but today, he found no solace in the twists and turns that made up the terrain of Oregon. The sharp distorted bends interspersed with wide, gentle turns, did little to ease the torment in his processor and spark.

The freedom of the road was lacking.

It was not offering the solace it once did. Course the rain peppering Sunstreaker's immaculate finish may be a contributing factor to his bad mood.

Becoming crankier with each passing moment, Sunstreaker decided to take shelter and polish his armor. It always made him feel better. His disposition was greatly affected by his appearance. He was happiest when buffed to perfection.

A large picnic shelter in a park afforded some much needed shelter for Sunstreaker's endeavor. He pulled in, transforming elegantly, glad no humans were around.

He checked his regular storage pocket for cleaning supplies and found the wax and chamois strangely absent. In fact, after a thorough check, he didn't have any form of cleaning agent on him. Which was weird. His favorite wax and three chamois always resided in his right subspace pocket on his hip. A backup can and two chamois reposed on the opposite side.

Thinking back, Sunstreaker remembered he had emptied said pockets the day before, as Sideswipe mentioned Sunstreaker smelled as if something had died in him. A brief search and he knew why he stunk.

Someone (carmine in color and idiot in nature) had somehow managed to sneak a pizza into Sunstreaker's subspace while he was charging. Probably during one of his forced power downs. (Ratchet's doing)

The smell had been quite nasty, requiring Sunstreaker to totally empty both pockets and disinfect them with a high powered wash. The sensation of pressurized water beating along the inside of the pocket had an unexpected side effect. Sunstreaker experienced a long overdue overload, waking up face down in the shower.

Unfortunately, so caught up in the happiness tingling his relays, he had forgotten to replace his polishing tools.

With a snarl he sat in picnic shelter, irritated and needing a healthy dose of violence to exorcise his anger. There were wooden tables running the length in two rows. His fist easily smashed both into splinters.

An old BBQ was at one end, the bottom filled with old ashes no one bothered to clean. The grill itself was so crusted with foil and food residue, it was wise to ditch the whole thing and replace it instead of trying to clean. It was easily flattened with a metal palm.

Sunstreaker's mood did not improve.

The rain remained steady.

Sunstreaker huffed, crossing his arms over his chassis and scowling at the grey veil.

He was at least a hundred miles from the ARK. In hindsight, maybe he shouldn't have driven so far? He was away from familiar landmarks and thusly, regular places to hide from the elements.

He sat, sullen and miserable as the rain continued to fall.

The noise was distant, barely noticeable at first. He wasn't even sure his audios were working properly. But after a minute, the sound grew.

Normally Sunstreaker didn't like human music. It was crass, with irregular beats, monosyllabic sounds, repetitive lyrics, and lacked the harmony Sunstreaker preferred.

But this… was different.

Frowning, he tilted his head, sussing out the source.

There!

Two blocks away.

A white building with a large parking lot.

As if in omen, the rain drew back into a pale mist. Thunder rolled in the distance, preparing for a downpour. Knowing he was already spotted and filthy from the drive, Sunstreaker left his shelter, following the sound of singing. But it was unlike any singing he had ever heard before. Certainly nothing Blaster or Jazz had blared over the sound system of the ARK.

As he neared, the singing intensified.

The humans were shouting and singing and suddenly, there was silence. Fearing the worst, for Sunstreaker wanted to hear more, he got to the window and knelt down, peering inside.

He found a human male standing in front of a large collection of people. There were a couple dozen humans behind him wearing identical clothes.

Strange.

The man was talking, but the words were muffled through the building. Sunstreaker had to boost his audios in order to hear the man's words.

He spoke of sorrow, heartache, loss, pain and suffering Sunstreaker could relate to. The man's voice grew as he spoke, building and rumbling until it filled the room and made the people shout and jump to their feet.

Or maybe that was the return of the storm overhead? Sunstreaker wasn't sure. He was too interested in the humans than the rain peppering his metal body.

The man continued speaking over the din, calling for someone to help him, but to Sunstreaker's utter amazement, no one rushed up to assist the man as he leaned on a podium, apparently faint and weak, though his voice remained strong and cut through the air so vehemently, Sunstreaker's plating rose to attention.

Lightning forked the sky. Thunder peeled through the thick grey clouds. Rain beat a pounding taboo on the tin roof, creating a deep bass.

And as if by some cue, the people behind the man lifted their arms and began to sing. It wasn't the same song that drew Sunstreaker to this strange place, but it carried a sweet melody nonetheless.

The man continued to call out for help. Desperate. Painfully, Near wailing.

The thunder answered, sending its voice through the heavens in a heavy vibrato.

Sunstreaker was about to smash out the window and help the human when the man began to rise, his voice joining the singing humans, and if fueled by some unknown source, he found his strength. By this time all the humans were on their feet singing the same song, their voices lifted up together, nearly shaking the foundations of the building.

Sunstreaker could feel the vibrations of the wood.

It amazed him the power of human voices.

The building was practically singing on its own!

Why didn't the other music he heard have the same effect? Sure the ARK rattled and groaned when Jazz or Blaster cranked up music, but that was an effect from modified subwoofers and mechs who wanted to feel their plating rattle from instrumental voices.

But this… was different.

There was a man playing a small piano in the corner, but Sunstreaker could barely hear its sound. The thing creating the pulse within the wooden beams and slats was the joining of human voices magnified by the peels of thunder.

A crack of thunder drew Sunstreaker's attention upward. Steady rain had been falling for an undetermined time. So enthralled by what he was witnessing, he hadn't noticed when the water ran down his armor and pooled at his pedes.

A huge fork of lightning lit up the sky. Thunder rolled between the battleship grey clouds. To some, it may appear as an ordinary spring storm, but Sunstreaker knew it was in answer to the beautiful music being created in the rain and the white building.

The voices grew louder. The music inside was magnified by the music outside, or vise versa. Sunstreaker couldn't tell. The voices of human and thunder blended perfectly, creating a song that filled his being and made his plating hum with energy.

He closed his optics, reveling in the sound.

Sunstreaker doubted any rock star or band currently topping the music field would be able to compare to the sensation he felt from this collection of humans inside a small white building. The noise was deafening! It was unbelievable humans could perform such harmony with their tiny voices.

Sunstreaker bobbed his head to the tune, enjoying the lively atmosphere and total joyous sounds coming from these happy humans. The thunder rolled a long note, signaling to the humans it was time to finish their song. They did so with random shouts, fanning themselves and holding their hands up high.

One by one the humans sat down. The man standing at the podium mopped his face with a rag and fanned himself.

Then he spoke about evil.

Immediately Sunstreaker thought of the Decepticons. Their need for power and glory and tyranny. Their lusts for everything, especially bending another to their will, and willingness to sacrifice everything to obtain conquest.

But then the man started listing some of Sunstreaker's best qualities! At least he thought they were his best.

A warring mind. (Sunstreaker was good at his job)

Lusting spirit. (he was even better in the berth)

Violence. (his entire life was molded by it, hence his temper)

Hatred. (he hated most things)

Pre-meditated murder. (he did that too, on the streets and in the arena)

Vanity. (Tracks was the only one who rivaled Sunstreaker in that department)

Gluttony in food, drink, and pleasure. (Sunstreaker shuddered to think of the endless cubes of high grade and subsequent behavior, a lot of which led to shameful acts)

Lying tongues. ( oh he could lie with the best of them!)

Greed. (he didn't fall into that category)

Laziness. (he didn't fall into that one either)

Gossiping lips (Sunstreaker was immediately reminded of his teammates and their need to huddle together over energon and mutter over trivial human matters)

Sunstreaker paused, wondering why his cheek plates were suddenly hot. Energy drained from his frame as the man's words sunk in.

Sunstreaker was guilty of a lot of things. Things he never really thought about until the man spoke.

Usually Sunstreaker believed his possessed the best: supernatural good looks, smooth talking glossa, sexual prowess, and ability to terminate without thought or hesitation. All things he gloated about. Sought praise and acceptance. Basking in the adulation and slagging anything that made him mad.

Those were the things that brought him joy. A sense of accomplishment. Pride.

So why did he feel so sick?

The man continued to speak about the vile things, his words sinking into Sunstreaker's meta.

The man spoke of redemption.

Mercy.

Peace.

Sunstreaker stared morosely through the glass.

Was such a thing possible? Even for him? Despite the things he had done, as a slave and a free mech? What he did to survive and what he did out of fun? What he did out of spite and anger? Even now, his blood thirsty nature tainted his spark.

Made him ashamed sometimes.

Funny, it never gave him pause before.

It was just a part of who he was. Between slavers, death matches, and war, he had a lot of shameful things staining his servos.

Sunstreaker thought long and hard.

Was he worthy to be forgiven? Was it possible he could shed his sorrows and lay them to rest? Was such a thing even possible? He had known nothing but pain, suffering and hardship his entire life.

First abandoned by creators who believed him abnormal. Then placed in a youngling center where he and his twin were half starved and abused every waking moment. They ran away from the crèche as soon as they were able, but the streets were no better.

They struggled to survive, stealing what scant rations they could. Nearly terminating due to depleted systems and glitches.

Then found by a mech who pretended to be kind and generous. Offering them food and a place to stay.

Only to lure them into the world of enslavement, selling their weak, immature frames to the highest bidder for nights of debauchery. When they finally earned their freedom, they were once again subjected to the misery of the streets, though as full grown adults, they were able to fend for themselves. And taken more seriously. Sunstreaker accelerated in art and Sideswipe was able to start his own business.

But as Sunstreaker listened to the human's words, using them as a mirror to view his own sordid past, of being sold into the arena due to Sideswipe's illicit business dealings, and the subsequent hardships of being whipped daily, starved, and forced to terminate others to scavenge their parts for survival. Yes, he even drained bots of their fluids as the Pit Master had a habit of 'forgetting' to feed his slaves.

When the war broke out, Sunstreaker was thrilled.

He was granted freedom, but once again his life was directed to violence and misery. It seemed as if his entire existence was meant for pain and suffering.

He had never really known peace. True kindness.

And if he was truly honest with himself, never felt anything remotely akin to love for another, other than his twin, but even then he couldn't determined the exact emotion. His sense of attachment to Sideswipe was programmed into his being. He couldn't ignore the slagger if he wanted to. They were two halves of a whole.

But from the man's words, there was something better.

It took a moment for Sunstreaker's to catch up.

Hope.

Hope of peace. Forgiveness. Redemption.

A chance to have a life of joy and tranquility.

Sunstreaker was loathe to admit it, but maybe, (possibly) he could find peace of spark he had been searching for his entire life? A way to regain his honor, if he ever had such a thing in his long and torturous existence.

The man called for one last song and Sunstreaker waited for the thunder.

As the humans began to sing, the thunder returned, rolling and crashing high above, adding to the harmony inside the white building. Sunstreaker closed his optics, wishing he knew their words so his soul sing could, too.

Typically human music annoyed him, human voices agitated his nerve circuits, but there was something… indescribable about this song. This beat. This sensation of having his plating crawl with electricity and his broken, busted, scarred protoform tingle with joy.

And it had nothing to do with the storm.

To Sunstreaker's delight, the song continued for several long minutes until finally the humans exhausted themselves. They milled about, winding down from their musical epiphanies and conversed with each other, hugging and nodding, closing eyes and placing hands on each other's heads.

For the first time in as long as Sunstreaker could remember, he didn't mind the rain dripping down his golden frame. The clouds brightened into a soft grey, peeling back to allow peeks of pale blue.

And just in time. The humans began to file out of the building. A woman took one look at the giant robotic being knelt by the window and let out a scream, falling backward, clutching her chest.

Sunstreaker held up his servos as other humans rushed to the scene. Expecting an outburst for his eavesdropping, Sunstreaker tried to explain, "I was just passing through and heard the music."

The man who had been talking at the podium hurried forward, glancing up Sunstreaker's considerable height.

"The music?" he said.

"Yeah, I liked the songs." Sunstreaker lowered himself to sit on the asphalt parking lot, his shoulder as high as the building. "I've never heard such music before. I was curious. So I came to listen."

A human in a long purple robe stared up at Sunstreaker.

"You're one of those Autobots?"

Sunstreaker nodded.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare anyone," he gestured toward the recovered woman who was now openly appraising him as he sat by the building. "I liked your music and wanted to hear more."

"Sometimes, all it takes is a good beat," said the man who had been addressing the crowd. "Son, you're welcome to come worship with us any time."

"Worship?" Sunstreaker asked.

"That's what this house is for," the man said, gesturing to the building. It was plain. Ordinary. Painted white with a patched shingle roof. One end hosted a narrow column with a positive sign on top. Sunstreaker didn't notice it before.

"Did you like this week's message?" the man asked, unafraid of the unusual visitor sitting outside the window.

Sunstreaker gave a one sided shrug.

"I liked the music. Don't think someone like me is worthy of redemption, let alone able to obtain it."

The man smiled, opening his arms as if expecting a hug. "No one is beyond redemption. Everyone is welcome. Many are lost but all it takes is the right direction, and you can be found."

Sunstreaker offered a soft chuckle. This human had no idea of the things Sunstreaker did in his past. It would make the man's hair fall out and give him nightmares the rest of his life! But Sunstreaker wisely remained silent.

"Son, do you want to hear more?" the man asked.

Sunstreaker considered for a moment. He gave a single nod.

"Yes, I'd like that."

-o-

o-o

It was late when Sunstreaker returned to the ARK. He transformed at the entrance and took the familiar path to his quarters. Red Alert came flying toward him like an insane chicken cackling after a fox. Sunstreaker paid him no mind. Merely plodded to his quarters, opening a comm. to Prowl.

"Patrol went longer than anticipated. Didn't find any Cons up north. Got waylaid due to weather."

"You went beyond the twenty mile radius?" Prowl asked skeptically.

"Yeah," Sunstreaker admitted. "And there are some beautiful vistas that way. In fact, I'd like to patrol the area more often. Maybe take some paint up there and catch a sunrise or two."

"Isn't that where there are several hydroelectric power plants?" Prowl asked, already knowing the answer.

Sunstreaker affirmed. "Yeah, I think there's up there. No sign of Con activity though."

"It might be prudent to actively patrol such areas. The cons may tire of the ones close to the ocean and want to venture further inland in search for energon or humans to torment."

"I noticed only logging activity but I'll keep an optic out in case the Cons scout inland," Sunstreaker said, gaining his quarters. "I'll do an energon sweep next week and assess potential targets."

"You're volunteering to patrol that far from base?" Prowl asked in disbelief.

"Weekends only," Sunstreaker reiterated, entering his quarters to find it Sideswipe-free. The idiot was either on duty or in the brig. Good. Sunstreaker wanted peace and quiet.

"Might want to expand the patrols in either direction. Just to be safe."

"Noted," Prowl said. "Thank you for your report."

"Whatever," Sunstreaker groused, lying down. He was too tired to polish himself before bed. "Now, slag off. I have an early day tomorrow."

-o-

o-o

The next weekend, Sunstreaker headed north. The sky was partly cloudy. The air cool. He arrived in time to find clusters of humans entering the white building. The large double doors were standing wide open.

Sunstreaker crouched down and was immediately greeted with a friendly face.

"Welcome, Son!" the man from the previous week said with a beaming smile. "We hope you can get through the doors. Might have to move a couple pews, but there's room for you."

Sunstreaker extended a long arm, sweeping aside two long wooden benches. He transformed his lower half, rolling through the double doors. It was a good thing he wasn't an off road model. He'd never fit!

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, but the humans knew, and accepted his presence with smiles and warm welcomes. They greeted him as long time friends.

Sunstreaker felt… humbled.

The man from the previous week brought an old battered book, navy blue in color with the binding falling apart and pages yellowed with age.

"We're performing hymns thirty-five, twelve, twenty, and three."

Sunstreaker scanned the book. It was so old he had to exercise his artistic nature to leaf through the brittle pages. Thanking his CPU, he memorized the entire book, eager to sing and rattle the foundations.

The doors closed. The man went to the podium and called for the first song.

Excitedly, Sunstreaker recalled the lyrics. The humans began. Sunstreaker was amazed at their sound as their voices lifted up. They sounded even better when he was next to them!

On and on they sang, so happy and full of joy. Sunstreaker opened his vocalizer and joined his voice to theirs, creating a deep vibrato that grew heavy in the air.

Sunstreaker let the music fill his being and strengthen his voice. As the music rose, so did he. He was rushing upwards, faster than any seeker could achieve, his spark fluttering happily in its casing, worries and fears melting away as the song chased away all the bad things, and filled him with a sense of peace and harmony. He put his spark and soul into the song, forcing his deep voice to fill the air, going higher into the stratosphere, calling out for something… unknown. Something he was desperate to find. Something that was just beyond his reach…. But, he was almost there…..

The resounding chorus shook the foundations.

To Sunstreaker's utter delight, he saw the flashes of light outside the building…

And then the thunder came.

o-o

-o-

o-o

Hope it was worth the wait.

Love to all!

XOXO

PJ