Always Two Sides
Takes place when the twins first joined the Autobots.
Didn't take long to set the standard.
And I made Prowl slightly OOC, but I'm taking a little liberty here and giving him a better expanse of emotion. This is the beginning of the war afterall, so I think he's a bit more emotional. As the war progresses, he's gonna close himself off.
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Cybertron: Unknown City, approximately 4 millions years ago
"Two missed shifts, threats of violence against eight members of staff, unlawful entry into a secured location, public disruption leading to inciting a riot, possession of illegal high grade, unauthorized access to the main terminal where illicit activities have been recorded and traced back to our location and," Prowl paused, optics scanning the report before turning his attention back to the duo standing at ease in his office. "Insubordination."
"Sounds about right," Sideswipe said, giving his brother half a glance. "Though the insubordination was merely a statement of fact. The Commander is really a tight aft that needs a good interface."
"I was talking about your lack of protocol and proper attention when addressing a Commanding Officer," Prowl growled, his doorwings giving a slight twitch.
"Oh," Sideswipe blinked, then shrugged, not bothering to snap to perfect military attention like everyone else when confronted with the Autobot SIC. "Nevermind then."
Sunstreaker stood sullen next to the door. The action riled Prowl further. No one flagrantly disregarded the rules. No One! When a Commander ordered you to his office, you were stand at attention and offer the proper military answers to your superior. Clearly someone didn't instruct these new recruits on protocol. That gross lapse in their education was going to be amended by the Praxian.
"You are to spend two megacycles in the brig and when you are released, you are to report to the Maintenance Crew to be assigned for another two megacycles," Prowl said, injecting as much acid into his tone as possible. He really couldn't stand these two. He gave them an orn before they were terminated, either by the enemy or their own faction.
"Four megacycles as punishment?" Sideswipe gasped incredulously. "But, what if we're needed? We can't be confined when there's a war going on out there!"
"The Autobots have endured long before you two graced us with your unpleasant company," Prowl said with disdain. "Surely we can survive without you while your time is served."
"But, we're the best soldiers you have!" Sideswipe's voice rose slightly. He couldn't believe that he and his brother were going to be missing upcoming battles.
"There are hundreds of the best trained soldiers Cybertron has ever produce guarding our borders. I hardly think that two ill-mannered and unprofessional mechs such as yourselves are our only line of defense," Prowl said, finding the mechs self-importance to be laughable.
Sunstreaker chose that moment to step forward, his optics ice white. His words were punctuated by each step until he was standing in front of Prowl's desk. "We may be untrained by your standards, but we know how to get the job done."
"Considering you can't seem to obey simple rules and follow proven military methods, I fail to see your point," Prowl added, not perturbed by the golden warrior glaring daggers at him. He looked between the two, clearly recalculating his earlier predictions and decided they would probably meet their end via friendly fire. He nodded toward his door in dismissal, "I believe you are expected in the brig."
Sideswipe ex-vented harshly, realizing he wasn't going to sway the black and white mech. He gave a grunt of acceptance and grabbed his twin's arm, pulling him toward the door.
"I honestly don't know what Prime was thinking allowing the two of you in our ranks," Prowl said, more to himself, but his voice carried nonetheless.
Sunstreaker halted, pulling his arm free from his twin and marching back to the desk. Though he leveled the Commanding Officer in height, his presence made him seem much bigger. Prowl actually took a half step back when the frontliner leaned over the desk, their olfactory sensors nearly touching.
"I may lack the training others have had, but I know how to protect those around me, and I'll be slagged if I allow you to question me or my abilities," Sunstreaker said in a low voice. "I know how to fight and I have no qualms in educating others of the fact." His hand slammed into the metal desk with a loud clang, accenting his words. His voice dropped low as he continued, "It would be wise to watch who you insult, because they may be the ones protecting your aft in the future." As quick as lightening he extracted himself from the Second's personal space and backed out of the room.
The door was shut before Prowl could regain his senses. How dare a simple soldier threaten him! He fully intended on extending their punishment detail.
Pit, he was so pissed, he seriously considering comming Prime and asking permission for a firing squad!
Venting harshly, Prowl closed his optics and calmed himself. He was always in control of his emotions. This type of display was unacceptable. Surely his emotions could be put aside, or at least, controlled. To show so much anger was very unprofessional, especially in front of new recruits. Though for the life of him, Prowl couldn't understand why the two riled him up so badly. It wasn't the illegal activities, those continue to go on, though admittedly, a lot more discreetly than what the twins displayed. Perhaps it was the nonchalance? Or the insubordination? Or any combination of the two. Whatever the reason, Prowl felt his circuits burn. He slowly opened his optics, glaring at the door where the two miscreants had disappeared through.
Prowl looked to his desk and noticed a small datachip in the indentation Sunstreaker had left with his hand. Curiously he picked it up and inserted it in the small terminal on his desk. The screen lit up with icons, each labeled for a particularly spectacular gladiatorial fight. Prowl clicked through several, watching as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe tore through the bodies of hapless gladiators. Their faces were set in grim expressions, but occasionally one would see the vicious sneer adorning Sunstreaker's face as his rival sparked spasmodically in his arms before extinguishing.
Prowl clicked on the new folder icons labeled with Autobot sigils, indicating new footage and felt his intakes stall.
The twins had already been party to four major battles, all won by Autobot forces. Their last location had been compromised by a traitor and the few bots who had survived were sent to Iacon, where the twins were now the Command staff's problem.
Prowl watched in morbid fascination as the twins easily pressed into the oncoming horde, the screen splitting to display each twin's unique perspective on the fight. Prowl clicked through all four of the subfolders, and by the second folder, he noticed there were small numbers in the corners of the twin's internal displays. Frowning he skimmed through the footage, watching each twin's point of view as battles were fought.
They never halted their advance.
And Prowl realized what the numbers in the corner meant. They were kills. Tallies of lives taken, both in the current battle and of their involvement thus far. The numbers were staggering.
Prowl was sickened to see their individual totals were already in the hundreds. A doorwing gave a twitch as he stared at their kill ratio. Yes, it was best to get rid of these two. They were an unstable element and uncontrollable. It was wise and safer for everyone. The problem was, where to put them?
It was clear they weren't designed to be around others, at least not in great numbers, so it was logical to remove them from the general public. Perhaps put them permanently on the frontlines? Their recklessness and lack of empathy would pave the way for the trained soldiers and if they were terminated, well, the Autobot forces would be safer for it.
Prowl closed the files and tucked the datachip away in his subspace. A chill swept up his spinal strut and lingered for a long time after.
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approximately four and a half million years later
Earth- Oregon- Just outside of Portland
"Unauthorized hacking of personal files, using said information for blackmail, throwing Brawn in the tar pits, illegal high grade and," Prowl paused for effect, though it really didn't matter. The list was rather redundant by now. "Insubordination."
"Hey! I earned that insubordination!" Sideswipe barked, pointing a threatening finger at Prowl. "Ironhide was cheating and I wasn't going to let the slagger get away with it."
"Nevertheless, he is still your superior officer," Prowl said nonplussed, a doorwing twitching to its normal pulse.
"Not superior," Sideswipe said, his trademark smug grin firmly in place. "I could take him."
"Brig," Prowl said, pointing to his door. "Three days."
"Three?" Sunstreaker asked from his station at the door. Still, after all the eons of war, he refused to leave a door unguarded.
"Yes, well, there's a celebration on Thursday and Prime has requested everyone attend," Prowl admitted. "Besides, it's not like it does any good anyway."
"Nope," Sideswipe smiled, then offered a perfect salute before marching his twin out of the Second's office.
"Three days," Sideswipe cooed, leading Sunstreaker down to the brig. "Three whole days. What is a mech to do?"
"Recharge," Sunstreaker grunted, having pulled a week solid of double shifts with very little off time in between. Truthfully, he wished the punishment was a bit longer; it would have saved him from more patrols that left him nearly crawling on his undercarriage from exhaustion.
The twins stopped when they noticed the state of the cell block. There were only four cells, the Ark not seeing fit to have more due to its exploratory nature and not enemy incarceration and transport. Two of the cells were dark, their internals hanging out and mounds of machinery surrounding them. Apparently they were down for repairs, and if the soot mark on the floor was any indication, it was Wheeljack doing the work. Or damage, as the case may be. The third cell was basically used as storage, and it was doubtful the power grid was even operational. That left only one cell.
And two volatile mechs.
One of whom wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep the week away.
The other, an idiot that didn't seem to understand the concept of personal space and the need for rest.
Without looking at each other they stepped over the threshold and heard the telltale signs of the energy bars activating.
"Come here, bitch," Sideswipe growled roughly as the bars shimmered into existence.
Sunstreaker gave his twin a look that clearly said he doubted his sanity and wasn't going to divulge the little fantasy world he now inhabited. "Whatever."
"I bought you for a pack of cigarettes," Sideswipe announced, grinning maliciously at his twin. "You're mine!"
"Right," Sunstreaker said, easily dodging the attack as a blur of red zeroed in on him. He sidestepped, striking his brother across the back as he went sailing past. "Idiot."
Sideswipe regained his pedes and dropped into an attack stance. Sunstreaker revved his engine in warning, not in the mood to deal with his brother's idiocy. He was tired and cranky. Not a good combination with the golden warrior.
With a battle cry, Sideswipe launched himself into another attack, but Sunstreaker was ready for him. A few quick strikes, and some beautiful dance moves, Sunstreaker got the upper hand. With a mighty wrench he threw his brother over his shoulder. Sideswipe went flying into the wall next to the bars, the impact nearly stapling him into place. With a grinding screech he slowly fell from his perch and landed with a crunch on the floor.
"Oww," Sideswipe moaned.
The bars gave a flicker, the hum of their energy fluctuating in an aria worthy of an opera. Then with a few feeble jolts, the bars disappeared. A spark erupted from the control panel in the hall, which happened to be directly behind the Sideswipe-sized impression on the cell wall.
'Sunstreaker to Prowl,' he commed.
'Are you in the brig?' Prowl demanded without preamble.
'Yes, but my Numb Nuts of a brother decided to be an idiot so I threw him against the wall, and it shorted out the bars,' Sunstreaker answered, uninterested about the whole situation. It was rather common-place by now.
Sunstreaker was graced with a long verbiage, most of it comprising his questionable parentage and intelligence of the troublesome duo. Then Prowl's comms went silent before his controlled monotone called over all bandwidths.
Suddenly Prowl's voice crackled over all Autobot comms. "Attention Optimus Prime and all Autobots. I regret to inform you that I have decided to retire, owing to the fact that my mental capacity has been compromised and I need to find a proper facility that can assist in my recovery. My destination is northeast, probably Minnesota or Vermont, due to the fact they habitually receive excessive amounts of snow and the terrain is inhospitable to Lamborghinis. It has been an honor. Prowl out."
"Slag," Sideswipe said, wincing as he gained his pedes. "I think we broke him."
Sunstreaker stood frozen, his expression unreadable.
"Course, I'm surprised it's taken us this long," Sideswipe laughed, joining his twin.
"Shut up," Sunstreaker muttered, turning on his heel and stalking out of the now useless brig.
Sideswipe wisely held his vocalizer and followed his brother, keeping a good pace behind him. It took a moment for him to realize their destination.
"Why are we going to see Prowl?" Sideswipe asked, his plating itching as the repair nanites set to work on his dents. "Isn't he kinda of pissed at us right now?"
Sunstreaker didn't bother knocking. He threw open the door and marched through without invitation. Prowl looked up blandly from his datapad, expelling a long gust of air through his vents. If he had a credit for every time either twin burst through his door unannounced, he could have retired from the Autobots after only a couple of months!
"What the slag was that all about?" Sunstreaker demanded.
Prowl didn't seem to be phased by the prospect of being a target for a highly dangerous and volatile mech. He carefully placed the datapad on the desk and intertwined his fingers, looking expectantly at the raging sun.
"My retirement?" Prowl asked mildly, finding the past few millennia to be settling heavy on his spark. "I thought it was quite obvious. I've had it. With the pranking, the jokes, the damage, the punishments, and the neverending disobedience that springs from you two Well of Miscreants."
Sunstreaker mentally flinched, knowing the SIC had a point. Sometimes they did go a little too far. But it was all in good fun. It was never to get to this point.
Ever.
"Well, you'll just have to change your mind," Sunstreaker said, regaining his senses and glaring daggers at Prowl. "Because we took too long to train you and it's illogical to stop now. Besides," Sunstreaker added, leaning on the desk and looming over the black and white mech, "If you left, we'd just have to reformat and follow you to the ends of the Earth."
"Why? It's apparent you don't respect the Autobot code, nor myself. What could I possibly come back to?" Prowl asked, his doorwings doing a little dance along his back. He was now used to Sunstreaker invading personal space.
"Us. We won't lose you. Not like everyone else in this war. You're too important, and if you cant see that, well then, maybe you should schedule a check up with Ratchet, because you aren't leaving us. Ever." Sunstreaker punctuated his words with another fist to the desk, then spun and stomped out of the room.
Sideswipe gave a shrug of indifference and followed his twin. It was a moment later when Prowl noticed the datachip residing on his desk. Feeling a horrible sense of déjà vu, he inserted it in the terminal.
Prowl fully expected to find another video collection of gruesome attacks and the twins' obscene body count. What he found instead halted his breathing function.
The first major file was split into chronological order and various locations the Autobots had inhabited. Prowl clicked on the first file and was stunned to see the point of view of Sideswipe, whose vision was obscured with his first superior officer barking in his face. As soon as the officer turned, Sideswipe offered a very rude gesture to his retreating back, then turned to face the other bots in the assemblage.
Prowl couldn't stop the gasp from escaping.
There were at least fifty mechs, most of them looked newly upgraded. Several sprouted growth seams that shone brightly from the overhead lighting. They were milling about, talking, though their phantom words were lost on the video file, they sent frightened looks toward the area where the officer had disappeared. It was clear they were terrified.
So Sideswipe took action.
He captured their attention in grand fashion, and after a few choice words, had the crowd roaring and chanting, their faces slowly morphing into hope and excitement. The fear physically left their forms, leaving behind the young, impressionable youths they were intended to be. Though their words went unheard, Prowl could see the change in their demeanor from Sideswipe's point of view.
Sideswipe passed around high grade to the surrounding mechs, and gave them the sense of what camaraderie and combat brothers always share. When the group got overenergized, Sideswipe got them riled up again, singing and chanting, and only then did Prowl notice the Commanding Officer pushing his way through the crowd to grab the instigator.
Sunstreaker fought by his twin's side, but after a short vicious dance, both ended up in the infirmary. When they woke several days later, there was a data pad directing them to Prowl's office, where they were to receive a reprimand.
Prowl blinked in stunned silence. He remembered the fateful day some 4 million years ago. Before the twins had entered his office, he had just received word that an entire regiment was wiped out. The same regiment as the twins. As they had been laid up in med bay, their unit was deployed, and every one of those young faces had perished.
He had never known the circumstances behind the twins' first meeting. But upon watching the vid-file, he now understood why they had completely demolished the detention center that evening. Someone had told them the fate of their comrades. And the entire cell block had been rendered useless, the violence of their grief and mayhem leaving both twins in a barely functioning state.
Prowl remembered going to the brig and finding the devastation, a reprimand fully charging his circuits and near boiling his lines. Then he found the two responsible. And the look in two sets of optics as the medics stabilized them was enough to chill him to the core.
Now he knew why.
Curious as to the other file, Prowl opened it.
There were subfiles listed with every Autobot on the Ark, and few that were left on Cybertron. Prowl clicked on his own, and felt his fuel pump stall. They were battles he'd been party to, though not being much of a soldier, he still had his fair share of combat. His talents were better utilized behind the lines, directing the troops into weak areas and calculating possible outcomes. Nonetheless, and each file now flashing through the terminal was a record of every fight he'd been in. And the screen split to show two points of view as they took in the battle. Prowl was stunned to see the enemy creeping up on him unaware on more than one occasion, and each time, one of the twins protected his back.
A number graced the corner of each battle, though it had nothing to do with kills.
Prime, Jazz, Ironhide, Hound, even Gears had a file, each containing video where either twin would jump in to protect their friends, or take a shot that was intended for another. And every time they intervened, the number would turn over. Their number of interceptions were staggering. In Prowl's own file he was oblivious of the danger in every battle. Prowl skimmed through the data, gasping as his 'save' totaled more than four thousand since the first battle he shared with the twins.
Every confrontation, both twins would be watching the battle as a whole, keeping track of their friends as well as the enemy. It was a rather delicate and complicated system. Most Autobots, Prowl included, thought that the twins engaged in battles and attacked with no form of coherent pattern or underlying cause. It was merely a fight to damage or kill as many as possible. But now that he had this information, they're tactical patterns were….. staggering.
Many had commented on the twins' odd habit of jumping a seeker. They labeled it with all manner of unseemly titles, and many had questioned their motives, but Prowl could now see through the twins optics. They weren't attacking seekers for the sheer joy of it, though they did find some satisfaction in causing them harm during the ride. Instead, they used the bird's eye view to take in the battlefront as a whole, and make judgment calls that weren't possible if still stationed on the ground.
Every Autobot file showed the safe return of the subject. As the twins awaited their turn for repairs in the repair bay, there were varying degrees of injured mechs surrounding them, but each file witnessed the continued life of the subject. And Ratchet's temper.
But everyone was still functioning. And every file ended with the individual seated comfortably in the rec. room, talking with friends and enjoying the companionship and the ribbing of their comrades.
Prowl released a slow gust of air, his mind working through the number of 'saves' each twin had listed to their comrades. Their combined total was overwhelming. Prowl concluded that if not for the Twin Terrors, the Autobots would have lost the war long ago.
It wasn't about who had the biggest weapon, or the fastest engine, or most devious plan, or strategy and sheer numbers.
It was about looking out for the ones around you. Doing whatever was necessary to keep them functioning. Protecting them, even when they didn't know they were in danger. Willing to sacrifice their own lives, just to prevent the harm or termination of another.
Prowl ejected the datachip and placed it in his subspace, beside the one that had resided there for over four million years. Yes, the twins were a handful and seemed to thrive on chaos and exuded instability and mayhem, but they were also fiercely loyal, brave, and crazy enough to accomplish the impossible. Their dedication was sometimes questioned, but their results spoke in thunderous voice, as the sparks of their friends continued to burn.
Prowl closed his subspace, finding a warmth spread throughout his frame. He was granted a very rare gift, one he felt humbled to receive.
Prowl also knew that he would never be able to leave the Autobot ranks. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker would follow through on their threat, finding and dragging him back to the Ark. It wasn't out of spite or anger, or vengeance that they challenged him so vehemently. It was out of concern and probably, in their own way, love. If any one of their friends were alone, the twins couldn't keep an optic on them, and that was a scenario they refused to allow to happen. They were protectors and defenders, and they would beat the slag out of anyone who questioned their motives.
Prowl allowed a rare smile. Yes, he and everyone aboard the Ark were truly gifted. No one could have asked for better guardians. Prowl sent a quick communiqué to Prime, announcing his return to duty, to which Prime gave a 'whatever' and cut the transmission. He picked up his datapad and started back to work.
After all, someone had to watch over the angelic demons that haunted the Autobot home.
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This was a quick little ditty that came to mind while toiling over the other two fics currently making my life a living hell. I dream of Lambos. Wouldn't be so bad, but now they clog my mind and infiltrate my thoughts at the most inopportune times. I'm trying to catch up on writing the sequel to Aby of Darkness and another chapter for Lost Voices, but these little short fics are driving me nuts. Is there a cure for Lambo obsession? I need a healthy dose ASAP! Lol
Impressions are encouraged and feedback LOVED.
I'd appreciate any comments, even if you didn't like it and thought it tripe.
