Hello Dear Readers! I hope everyone is doing alright in these trying times. I took a small break from writing (not that I haven't done that before), because I lost my job due to the shut downs. I still don't have anything secure for work, but was able to get myself in the mood for writing again. I was going to publish this last week, but decided everyone deserved a bit of fluff, so I added a third section to this chapter. I hope everyone enjoys.
A special thanks to my wonderful reviewers; iynasan, .Princess, SilverStorm5, guadadominguez4, Spoffen, mary123ciel, (Guest), aelfwyne, kelly, Cinematronix, ImpartingAbyss, and Wika0304. Hearing from you guys always brightens my day!
Erin blinked her eyes open, finding herself back in her own bed. Something was off, though. A faint greyish glow illuminated the room, but Erin could not see the source. Her limbs felt heavy, like they were weighed down, but she felt nothing restraining her. A small movement caught her eye. Under the covers, her own leg was shifting around without command. Lethargic fingers managed to grasp the edge of the blanket and lift it. A pair of ever-hating green eyes met hers. She felt paralyzed as a snake appeared from the shadows, coiling for a moment before striking.
Blackness took over once again as Erin realized she could move once more. The serpent was gone, replaced by a familiar sound of waves crashing against the rocky shoreline. She felt disoriented, suddenly standing on two solid legs. A mechanical grinding sound vibrated the ground behind her and she opened her eyes but could barely see in the darkness. The noise was only meters away. Panicked, she peered up to see a pair pf glassy white optics.
"Sunstreaker?" she called fearfully, stepping back to realize she was on a cliff. The shadow which shrouded the mech lifted just enough to reveal a servo transformed into a cannon, glowing and aimed at her.
A scream caught in her throat as he blasted the ground at her feet her, causing the earth to collapse. The horrendous fall came next. Rocks tumbled against her as she descended into the black water below. She struggled to swim to the surface, the water felt thick and heavy like oil. Just as her lungs began to give out, she breached the liquid and sucked in foul smelling air.
The darkness was pushed away by a blue glow. Though numb, Erin could tell her body was going through a horrific trauma. The smell, she recognized, was her own skin burning away as energon coated her. It floated through the ocean water, which battered the young woman against the rocky cliff. The blue pool grew larger, over taking the waves and filling her mouth with the poison.
Desperate for reprieve, Erin paddled towards the shoreline, fighting panic as she saw the flesh of her hands eroding away. The energon only got thicker the further she went. As her eyes met her targeted destination, she saw Sunstreaker waiting for her, the shadow replaced by a thick layer of rust, discoloring and disforming him. He stared down at a sparking pile of metal on the beachside.
Erin's desperation halted as she saw the metallic creature's form. It was Sideswipe, mouth agape in a silent scream as energon flowed from his lifeless corpse, flooding into the ocean. The sparks from his wound danced around the energon mockingly before finally lighting it ablaze.
The brightness shrouded Erin's view of the twins as the fire surged towards her. Before it could reach her, something clawed at her leg, pulling her into the depths. The force was too powerful to fight, and Erin felt no strength left in her body. The hands climbed from her ankle up her leg before gripping around her throat. As the energon fire above reigned, the deep was lit by the blue and orange flames, glowing against the figure dragging her down. There, she saw her own face, disfigured with fangs and elongated features.
It screamed in her voice, "You did this! Rin! You killed them all! Rin! Wake up!"
A wave of nausea hit Erin as she woke. Screwing her eyes shut, she desperately prayed to keep her composure. Sideswipe's voice was clear in the back of her mind. Was that his servo shaking her?
Begrudgingly, she blinked her eyes open to peer in two pairs of optics, both bright but glaringly different.
"Sweetspark," Sideswipe cooed gently, "what happened?"
Sunstreaker answered for her, "She had a nightmare, fragger."
A glance to the side informed Erin that the enormous servo which encapsulated her shoulder and arm belonged to the latter mech. In her sleep-dazed mind, she wondered how something metal and foreign could be so warm and life-like, when her own organic body was chilled and stiff. She felt like a corpse.
"Sorry guys." She mumbled while trying to wipe the sleep from her eyes. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
Sideswipe seemed to relax, settling himself lower on the berth to be faceplate to face with her. "We've been out of recharge for a little while. We didn't want to wake you until Sunny came back with fuel." Taking the que, said mech produced two cubes of energon and a clear bag holding a brown take out container.
Erin took it gratefully. She spared a moment of thought for the poor man who Sunstreaker cornered to make the meal. The yellow mech seated himself back on the berth so that he was facing Erin and Sideswipe.
Neither 'bot touched their energon, however. Sideswipe drummed his digits against the top, as if contemplating something. "Are you sure you're alright? You were practically screaming just a moment ago." He appeared to be just as concerned as he was the night before.
Erin wanted to kick herself for making the twins worry. "It's fine, just a nightmare. I don't even remember what it was about."
"You don't honestly expect us to believe that, squishy?"
Smiling weakly at Sunstreaker she countered by saying, "If remember correctly, Cybertronians don't have dreams to begin with."
Sideswipe seemed to voice the same concerns as his twin, "How can you forget something you were just panicking from a moment ago?"
Trying not to take offense to the mech's choice of the word 'panic', she explained, "Well, nightmares serve the purpose of helping humans prepare or think through difficult situations. Whether it was our ancestors fighting off carnivores, or modern humans with modern problems. We file that information away subconsciously. But they aren't meant to be remembered." It was true, what she said, but that didn't change the fact that Erin did remember her dream. But she refused to tell the twins how in it, she was to blame for their demise.
"Whatever you say, squishy." Sunstreaker responded, not seeming entirely convinced. However, he let the subject drop.
Both mechs seemed content to silently enjoy their morning energon so Erin followed suit and opened her box. It contained an omelet with what appeared to be a healthy smothering of cheese, peppers, and onions. It looked good, and there was even some salsa in a small plastic container. While not normally a breakfast person, the day and a half of hardly eating was catching up on her and she dug in.
After waiting a moment, Sunstreaker caught Erin's attention. "Is it ok, squishy?" he asked with a critical optic.
The woman could only imagine what would happen to the cook should she give a negative review. "It's really good." She answered honestly with a smile. She was grateful that the mechs looked out for her, but she would need to think of a tactful way to subside Sunstreaker's direct approach. The culinary team probably had their own nightmares of the mech.
"As long as you like it." He huffed, looking at the food with an abhorrent expression.
"Don't worry, Sunstreaker. There's no meat this time." She decided not to explain the sources of the other ingredients.
That seemed to please the warrior a bit more and he leaned back and took a final swig of his cube.
"So," Sideswipe perked after subspacing his empty cube, "I've already confirmed with Jazz that we all have the entire day off." The third in command had taken over their training program since Ironhide was still in Texas. "That makes us yours to do with as you please." He looked at her expectantly. His tone remained light and lacked any innuendos he could have easily inserted.
Erin felt a twinge of guilt. Both mechs were on their best behavior because they thought she was mourning for Adam. If they knew the truth, what would happen? Erin knew she was taking advantage of their feelings, creating a haven for her to retreat from herself. But she couldn't live those two separate lives anymore. It was tearing her apart. She chose to continue as Erin, and her entire experience with that identity revolved around knowing the twins. If she could just regain the sense of normalcy she once had, she'd be able to come up with a plan on how to deal with Division.
Steeling herself against the creeping guilt, she smiled lightly at the mech. "Why don't you decide on something?"
Sideswipe's grin faltered ever so slightly. "I always decide what to do." He put on an exaggerated pout.
The woman knew all he wanted was to cheer her up. If she made him feel successful, he'd be happy. Plan forming in her mind, Erin nodded her head. "Alright, then." She thought of what would make the mechs happy. Sunstreaker liked his self-grooming, but it was apparent he'd already washed while she was asleep. Perhaps she could fit that in later in the day. Sideswipe liked comics and tv. Both mechs like video games. A though popped in her head for a way to make the mechs feel less worried about her. "Sideswipe," she called the front liner's attention, "is that offer for a drive still standing?"
The mech's optics widened as a shocked grin crossed his faceplates. "Of course! Is that really what you want to do?"
She shrugged, trying to seem casual. "I think it'll be a nice day for a drive." Not that she would know that for sure, since the twins didn't have a window in their room.
Neither brother lessened his careful gaze. They were still watching for signs of mourning. But they at least seemed somewhat pleased.
"Well, what are you waiting for, squishy?" Sunstreaker beckoned Erin to follow him out the berth room.
Erin carefully lowered herself off the berth, adjusting her clothes after spending the night in them. She was glad she showered late the night before. It wouldn't be pleasant if she rode in Sideswipe's cab while sweaty and gross.
She followed the yellow warrior outside, Sideswipe walking close on her heels. Erin couldn't help but notice how barren the autobot barracks were. In the time she'd been acquainted with the autobots, their numbers dropped from a measly eleven to a pitiful eight, one of which was her fault.
As she walked by the room which once housed Mirage, she wondered what became of the mech. She didn't exactly feel sorry for him, since he left the autobots under his own intentions. But she had no idea what Division decided to do with him after he was forced to leave the island following the failed attempt to make him the newest spy on base. She knew Division could give him fuel and lodgings, but she wondered whether the mech was even alive. Did they sell him to the highest bidder? Was he acting as an informant, or being forced to fight Division's battles as Erin was? Would the prideful mech know to keep himself in check, otherwise suffer Division's wrath? The woman had no doubt Division had already compiled numerous ways to torture or kill Cybertronians should the need arise. Was he being used as an experiment for these methods?
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were so enraged when Mirage abandoned the autobots. What would they think if they found out the truth about who pulled him away? What would they think about everything she's done?
Erin tried to push the thoughts out of her head. She decided she was done serving Division. She just needed time to come up with a plan. Until then, she'd slowly make it up to the twins. They deserved that much for making her feel at home.
As soon as they exited the hanger, Sideswipe transformed, alt mode bouncing with excitement. Erin didn't try to hide her small smile, the mech was oddly endearing when he got like that. Sunstreaker wasn't as emotive, but after transforming, he revved his engine. The sound made Erin's heart skip a beat as she felt it vibrate through the ground.
Sideswipe opened his driver's side door for Erin. She stared at it for a second. Did he want her to drive? In response to her motionlessness, the door wagged back and forth in a 'come here' motion. Steeling her nerves, Erin relented and stepped into the cabin. She was doing this for the twins. And maybe she'd have some fun as well.
"Alright, sweetspark, how about you against Sunny?" Sideswipe's voice called over the radio.
Of course he would instantly turn it into a race. "I doubt I'm as good of a driver as you are." She explained, trying to manage the mech's expectations.
Sideswipe, on the other hand, just brushed the comment off. "You'll do great! It'll just be from here to the shadow of the tree line up ahead."
Erin sighed. She hadn't even driven a regular car in over a year. Stick shift at least triple that. Living vehicle… never. Regardless, she got herself ready, one hand on the stick, the other on the steering wheel. To her surprise, Sideswipe didn't shoo-in any innuendos. Instead, he started a count down, no doubt projecting it to Sunstreaker as well.
"5… 4… 3… 2… go!"
Erin threw Sideswipe into gear, avoiding any early fishtailing. As she gained speed, her bruises started to ache as she was pushed into the seat. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, she went for speed over control. She trusted Sideswipe would take over should they be in any danger. But it wasn't enough to overtake Sunstreaker. Erin must have been too slow to shift up gears because the yellow mech quickly overtook her and Sideswipe. Even as she maxed out her speed, her gains would fall just short of the finish line.
"Sideswipe, I'm going to do something crazy, bear with me." She shouted over the roar of his engine. Quickly decelerating, she rocked the steering wheel, forcing the tires to squeal on the ground as they lost traction. Sideswipe just started laughing madly.
Erin watched as Sunstreaker effortlessly turned his entire frame, decelerating backwards before shooting towards them. Erin pumped the brakes enough to catch traction again and shot past Sunstreaker. At their top speeds, Sideswipe outmatched his brother, so the Lamborghini would have no chance of catching up.
Sideswipe whooped as they crossed the shadow line, Sunstreaker catching up two seconds later. Erin realized she'd been holding her breath as she finally let it out and started panting. Her heart beat erratically as she forced her tight grip off the steering wheel.
As she took off the seatbelt, Sideswipe opened the door for her. Her legs felt shaky on solid ground, and the vibrations from their transformations didn't help.
"Ha! You thought you could beat her!" Sideswipe taunted his brother.
Said mech turned his helm to Erin. "That was a fraggin' dirty trick you pulled, squishy." It was apparent from his tone he wasn't upset, though his optics did glance over her, as if making sure she was ok.
Erin shrugged, "You never said tricks weren't allowed."
He smirked, "I don't know what we're going to do with you, femme." His gaze looked uncharacteristically soft.
Erin tried not to blush. They hardly hid their feelings for her. The woman could hear every unvocalized thought the mechs made. It was obvious enough for Ironhide to notice, and Wheeljack seemed aware before he offlined. Even some of the other soldiers would call them 'Erin's mechs'. They'd play it off as a joke, but the insinuation was clear enough. She could only wonder whether the twins themselves were aware of things.
Putting on a good-natured smile, Erin joked, "Well you're stuck with me, so you'll have to figure it out."
Sideswipe smiled down at her. "Why don't we keep driving for a while, then we can refuel in the rec room?"
Erin nodded; happy Sideswipe was back to making the plans for them. A drive and some video games were the stress-free activities she needed. Maybe she'd even sing a quick song for the mechs later. Sideswipe had been oddly respectful lately in not pushing her to do it, but she also liked the looks on their faceplates when she did sing. Anything to make them happy. Then, if she could finally relax, she could start figuring things out herself.
Freeing herself from Division wouldn't be as simple as not answering their calls. She'd not only need support, but security as well. Erin had no doubt there was a Division monitor on base. No agent would be assigned such a long mission without one of those contracted watchers to keep an eye on the agent's progress and loyalty. Luckily, Erin believed she had discovered his identity.
Prowl stared at his data pad, as he had done throughout the night. Jazz, who decided to stay in the office with him, was still recharging in the corner. But the SIC didn't feel tired. The sensation of missing something vital kept him alert. His processor worked overtime trying to find the target of this ominous feeling. He'd poured over the files sent to him by this 'Agent 56'. Just the name perturbed him. Did it mean something? Was it a warning that there were far more where he came from? Was Adam mocking him even from the grave?
Not that Prowl was entirely convinced the man was his culprit. Sure, the timing made sense. And the final file was clearly Specialist Walker's personnel file from whatever organization he came from. All signs pointed to the fact that Mech was not responsible for sending him, rather something called Division. The discourse between the agent and outside forces showed Mech was their enemy as well.
Sure, there were other signs that Specialist Walker was the culprit. His reports only reflected knowledge that would be clear to a soldier on base who lacked intimate knowledge of the autobots. The misinformation could have easily resulted from easily made assumptions. But how could an agent so clever as to keep up the cat and mouse game fall for those? The confidence in the final message, what was basically a suicide note, betrayed the fact that the agent was certain he knew the autobots inside and out.
Furthermore, the documents exposed that this agent was responsible for Mirage's betrayal, and even targeted his misgivings about the autobots. There was no sign Mirage ever interacted with Adam beyond training monitored by Ironhide. Jazz had also confirmed as much.
Prowl looked over to his friend. His affliction did weigh heavily on him. Perhaps he missed something during their investigation?
No! Prowl pushed away any misgivings about Jazz's abilities. He had to trust his friend was pushing through his current barriers.
Besides, there was more evidence that Specialist Walker wasn't 56, although it was mostly conjecture.
The black and white mech noted Jazz starting to stir. It was late in the morning, he thought. And he'd pushed away low energon warnings for a while. If he didn't take a moment to refuel, Jazz would likely disable his data pad… again.
Deciding to take one last look at the data pad before the mech fully onlined, Prowl re-read the description given of Sunstreaker. It described his basic weapons and abilities, but Prowl knew the gladiator had more in his arsenal. It didn't mention is servo-held weapons such as his energon pistol or baton. Neither were used often, as the mech not only preferred tearing opponents apart with his servos after blasting conveniently sized holes in their armor, but also left them as last resorts his enemies could easily forget. It was true Mr. Walker wouldn't know of Sunstreaker's hidden weapons, since it was unlikely, he ever saw them. It made sense. But the agent he spent so much time pursuing should have found out in some way. Just what was he playing at?
"Prowl?"
Said mech flinched. He had forgotten his friend's presence for a moment. But he didn't miss how Jazz hadn't used his nickname. It concerned the SIC.
"I'm sorry I didn't wake you from recharge," he tried to distract the Third in Command, "you seemed comfortable enough."
Jazz saw right through. "Have you been up all night?" there was an edge to his vocalization.
Prowl remembered how, just the night before, he found Jazz amidst one of his episodes. It appeared he had been negligent of his friend since he learned about Specialist Walker.
"I was just reviewing some of the files." He said, ignoring the point of the question. "Something doesn't add up here." He said, glancing down at his desk as if the answer would suddenly appear.
Jazz jumped from the chair, startling Prowl. "What the frag doesn't add up?" he challenged. "This aft got onto our base and when he was cornered, he off'd himself!"
Prowl was taken aback by Jazz's fury. Nevertheless, he remained calm, gently explaining, "There are months of no correspondents, then suddenly a message directly from him? What led to the suicide? There had to be a precursor." Seeing Jazz was unconvinced, he continued, "We know there are more files here than correspondents we managed to tag. There could be even more. We only see what he wants us to see."
Seeming to calm a bit, and maybe seeing the logic in Prowl's concern, Jazz countered, "Perhaps he felt the walls closing in? That's why he wouldn't send anything out."
"But no orders?" Prowl asked. "No warning to this 'Division' that he was making such a move? And why share the files with me?"
A disbelieving glare crossed Jazz's faceplates. "Because he wanted to get into your helm, just as he had been for months, and is still doing now, even though he's gone." He jabbed a digit at Prowl to accentuate his point. "The code translations will give Sideswipe enough information to track and decode any future messages. This was probably his way of saying 'I got what I wanted and now I'm out'. And it was the smartest move he could have made."
"How is that the smartest?" Prowl countered. "Suicide is a coward's move and this infiltrator is not a coward." The SIC pointedly did not mention the fact that he hadn't given the codes to the front liner. He still didn't trust Specialist Brook.
Seeming to grow in frustration, Jazz shot back, "Why are you so upset he offlined himself? We can do damage control now, isn't that the best-case scenario?"
"This doesn't feel right." Prowl muttered.
"It's not like you to get your spark all tangled up in this" the silver mech chastised, "What happened to using that big ole processor of yours?"
Ignoring the near sparking he was surely going to endure over contradicting his own protocols, Prowl stared blankly at the data pad, hoping something would pop out at him to prove his theory.
"You miss him don't you" Jazz asked, dawning realization on his faceplates.
"What?" Prowl started. "He was the enemy!" How could Jazz every think that?
"And he gave you something to look forward to, bad or not." The mech explained, "He brought something new to this pointless Primus forsaken war. Something new after the eons of offlining and misery." A dark look overtook the mech's faceplates.
Unsure of how to counter, Prowl simply replied, "You're wrong."
Jazz slowly turned towards the door. "Then why don't I just leave you to your files." He left Prowl in the dark of his office, energon warning still blinking on his HUD.
"Stop distracting her, Sides. Squishy, hold still." Sunstreaker's glitch of a twin was unusually tolerant whenever he was the subject of the yellow mech's work. But when he was merely watching the process, the 'bot was nearly unbearable.
To her credit, the squishy was relatively patient, until Sides decided to make weird faces are her from behind Sunstreaker's shoulder. She didn't break out in rolling laughter, but her expression kept changing. Sunstreaker had managed to sketch every other part, but he wanted to wait for her face. He could have relieved the femme and just used image captures at that point, but he wanted to capture her expression in that moment, knowing she was the subject of his art.
He had long grown used to graphite as a drawing medium, but the squishy was the first human he had ever drawn. Secretly, the mech wished he had practiced beforehand, since the femme looked eager to see the results, not that she asked to model to begin with.
It had been Sides' idea for him to draw her. And he was the one who got her excited for it. Though Sunstreaker was secretly glad to be capturing the femme's image, he wished his twin hadn't sprung the idea on him so suddenly.
They had been playing videogames in the common room after a few hours of racing. The femme seemed to be in relatively high spirits, though she still appeared somewhat bothered, no doubt due to her organic companion's offlining. But that was exactly why the mechs were trying so hard to distract her. They were playing Spiderman: Shattered Dimensions. Sides had gone in and reprogrammed the game to include multiplayer. It was also the debut of his new version, so he was proud to show it off in front of the squishy. Sunstreaker thought the femme wouldn't care too much, but instead she smiled and talked about he she had been catching up on his fragging comic books and should understand the storyline. When asked what comic she was on, the femme pulled out her data pad to check, and the last thing she did on it popped up on the screen.
Sunstreaker's optics had widened in surprise, there, on her small data pad, was unmistakably an image of him. The femme quickly switched the screen over to search for the comic, but Sunstreaker stopped her.
"What was that just now?" he asked, fully knowing what he saw.
The femme froze for a moment, glancing at him nervously. "Oh, it's nothing, just a sketch."
"It was of me." Sunstreaker supplied. Sides shot up and tried to glance at the data pad from behind Sunstreaker. When the femme didn't respond, the yellow mech told her to pull it back up.
Though begrudging, she did as he asked. He then took the data pad from her grasp and studied the image. The femme hovered to the corner. Did she look worried? The thought made Sunstreaker want to laugh. He remembered feeling that way when he showed his sire some of his early drawings. The feeling never entirely went away, but he learned to hide it better.
The image was of him smiling, perhaps a bit smugly. He was surrounded by what appeared to be large yellow plants with brownish/orange centers. Some kind of flower, probably. The background didn't offer much contrast, but he couldn't expect the femme to know too much about color theory. Instead, his gaze transfixed on his own features. It wasn't perfect, and many of the finer details had been simplified. His armor color was not yellow, but an impressive gold. Setting aside minor inconsistencies and errors, Sunstreaker felt warmth spread through his spark. Was this how the femme saw him? The shining mech in the portrait looked confident and exceptionally good looking. Of course, Sunstreaker was the best looking mech on the planet, but an artist's work was a window into how he or she viewed the world, so did she see him that way as well?
Sides tried to peer over Sunstreaker's shoulder, nosing his way forward. Growling in annoyance, he offered his brother the data pad. He already captured images of it after all. Pulling up said captures, he analyzed how the gold, which he would call more of a pearl than metallic finish, complimented the black decals around his faceplates and on his audio receptors. The shading on the optics were the most unique part of the piece. He was impressed by how much it matched his natural yellow optic color. In fact, depending on his mood, he probably would have sported that exact shade. The color, along with the smile, made him look strong. Had he appeared that powerful before he changed the color? Probably not, since he always felt shame in hiding his optics. Overall, it was an acceptable piece, one that he felt far too pleased with.
Realizing the femme had been silently watching his contemplation, he turned his attention back towards her. If he didn't say anything, she'd think he was dismissing her. What did he say? After a moment of thought, he showed a smirk, "Why didn't you tell me you could draw like that?"
She glanced away. "Well, since you're an actual artist, I thought it might seem kind of shallow bringing up my little sketches. Besides, I only started drawing like that within the past year."
The mech couldn't help but feel even more impressed that she managed to make that after so little practice, but that was quickly overshadowed by the knowledge that his own prowess discouraged her from sharing something about herself. The squishy was not a shy femme by any means, but she had enough social understanding to know when to share personal information and when not to. Sunstreaker probably would scoff at any other self-proclaimed artist, but the squishy was different, and her drawing was genuinely good. Even more important, it had emotion. Thinking back on a conversation he had with the femme what seemed like a long time ago, the squishy didn't seem to understand such concepts. When she pressed him to explain, he shot her down. She must have done her own research since then. That realization made Sunstreaker feel even worse about himself. To think he nearly discouraged her from exploring art, made him almost apologize. Almost.
"It's not shallow." He replied sternly. Seeing she was unconvinced, he opened his mouth to continue, but Sides beat him to it.
"Especially when you have a pretty 'bot like Sunny for your muse."
"Don't call me that." Sunstreaker snapped. Still, his brother's compliment made him flex his armor ever so slightly. Of course he was a good subject for art. He never painted himself because it was impossible to replicate perfection, but that didn't undermine the squishy's attempt.
Sides' interruption seemed to lift the femme's spirits. "Alright then, Mr. Art Expert, what's your review?"
The mech shuttered his optics in surprise. It seemed they'd managed to get her to open up rather quickly. He thought about the piece, trying to think of her intentions behind it. He didn't want to insult the femme by naming all the ways in which it wouldn't be a professional piece. So, he decided to go for simple critiques. "Overall, it's well done," he added with a smirk, "which shouldn't be too hard since you have such a great muse." The squishy eyed him with a grin, so he felt welcomed to continue. "You also do well at capturing emotion. But the background makes it monochromatic."
He saw the femme's eyes unfocused for a moment, as if she was searching through information. "As in it uses the same color pallet, no diversity?"
The mech nodded, somewhat proud of the femme. "Yes," he took the data pad back from Sides, who silently protested over the bond, "When my optics are blue, they contrast my yellow armor. Changing the color to gold gave enough of a difference to make it look analogous, but the background is too close to the optic color and armor. With more than one main shade of yellow, it overwhelms the picture." He waited until the femme nodded to continue, "The complementary color to this shade of gold purple, but a softer effect would come from a light greyish-blue."
The squishy took the data pad back from him and opened a new page. Moving through the colors, she adjusted and experimented with thick lines, starting with the armor gold and optic yellow, and crossing those lines with various shades of blue and purple. Sunstreaker watched as she played with different colors, comparing them and narrowing down the options. Eventually, the screen sported the analogous shades, along with a subtler version of sky-blue. When she glanced back to see his reaction, the mech nodded his helm. It was a good match, since it wouldn't pull attention away from the focus of the piece.
The femme saved the page and turned back to Sunstreaker. "Thanks for the art lesson."
Sunstreaker tried not to show how pleased he was. "If you want to see more, just ask anytime. I don't mind."
That was when Sideswipe poked his helm over Sunstreaker's shoulder again, this time to say the squishy should act as a model for him. It didn't take long for him to convince them both and soon they were back in their berth room, where Sunstreaker kept his supplies.
The femme had been stiff at first, trying to hold her pose still. It wasn't the right mood. After trying and failing to get her to properly relax, Sunstreaker had the brilliant idea to have the femme exercise before sitting down for the picture. So, she spent several minutes holding her entire weight up on two hands, lowering herself down before pushing her arms straight again. Sunstreaker, though obviously stronger, didn't think he could hold such a position for as long as the femme could. It would strain more sensitive internal struts, just with the weight of his armor. All the while, Sides silently enjoyed the view, since her abdominal armor dropped down, leaving plenty of skin exposed, not that they hadn't already seen her with less coverings from time to time. Sunstreaker just silently watched, not letting his own feelings or reactions cross the bond.
When the femme was sufficiently exhausted, she laid down on the opposite berth where Sunstreaker sat, a satisfied smile on her face. That was when Sunstreaker started to sketch her. Though he worked quickly, that didn't stop Sides from eventually growing bored and trying to entertain himself. Much to Sunstreaker's annoyance, the method he chose included distracting the femme. Still, he managed to get the right essence on the poster he was using. It was not the best medium, but he had to make do. "Alright, I have enough details down, you can move again."
With his blessing, the femme stretched, her frame making an alarming 'pop' noise. Sunstreaker flinched when he heard it, but the femme only sighed in contentment. Humans were fragging weird. "Can I see it?" she asked, looking calmer than she had in weeks.
Though glad to see the femme like that, he had to follow his own principles. "Not until it's finished." He told the femme, moving to put away the materials. "It will take me a couple hours, so I'll do it tomorrow."
"I guess I should be getting back to the barracks, then." The femme stated, starting to move towards the edge of the berth.
Like slag they were going to let her leave. Both brothers moved to stop her.
Sides chimed in, "Why don't you stay another night, you're here already."
She smiled but shook her head. "I've been in your way all day and night. Besides, I need to take a shower."
"Just use the fragging wash racks here." Sunstreaker supplied.
"I also need a change of clothes." The femme countered.
Sides wasn't in the mood to give in. "How about I take you back to your barracks for new armor and drive you back here for the night?" he offered.
The femme sighed, "I'm not getting rid of you guys anytime soon, am I?"
"And why would you want to do that?" Sunstreaker questioned. "We're the best things on this primus-forsaken island."
Shrugging, the femme finally caved. "Fine, I'll stay here. But this is the last night."
Sunstreaker knew Sides planned on the squishy spending far more time in their berths than she even realized. And Sunstreaker wouldn't object to his plan. That didn't mean he was on board with the mech's entire scheme. He was no doubt curious as to how their relationship would develop, and some of the possibilities within.