A FORMIDABLE STREAK
Thank you to all my readers! Got a few new people and I just wanted to say, BIG THANK YOU to joining my insanity and finding it entertaining. I try to send messages of gratitude to all my readers but some of you have your messaging system disabled. Just so you all know, I appreciate all the reviews and words of support. Though I cant send messages to everyone, I hope all of you know how much your continued support means to me.
AuraBlackChan- Thank you for your wonderful and generous reviews! Your requests were added to the pile and I will endeavor to work on it when the muse strikes. I can't garantee when any will be posted because I never know WHAT the muse is going to come up with, but rest assured, they WILL be kept in the pile for future consideration. :)
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The twins stood outside of the main conference room. Sideswipe bounced on his pedes, his systems humming so high they threatened to break the sound barrier. Sunstreaker leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, scowling as he scanned the corridor with precise movement. Nothing was going to catch him unaware. They may be in the middle of the Autobot's main strong hold, but it didn't mean there weren't spies and saboteurs sneaking around to wreck some havoc. The newly painted Autobot sigil was upon both of their bodies.
"What do you think they want with us?" Sideswipe asked, halting his bouncing to rock on his pedes.
"Better not be for experiments," Sunstreaker answered casting his gaze down the hall toward distant noise.
"Doubtful," Sideswipe said, his giddiness bleeding over the bond. He was like a sparkling being offered a present if they were good. The anticipation was killing him.
"Stop doing that," Sunstreaker muttered, his hand going to rub his chest above his spark chamber.
Sideswipe offered a cheesy grin, flooding the link with love, adoration, affection and all the warm fuzzy feelings that made Sunstreaker's tank churn. Sunstreaker pushed off from the wall and took one step toward his twin, his optics clouding over with rage. Sideswipe immediately halted his teasing and sent a pulse of foreboding toward his brother. The sudden switch in emotion didn't faze Sunstreaker. As soon as he was within arm's length, he reached out and grasped his brother by the throat.
Sideswipe tugged at the hand clutching his throat. He didn't need oxygen to breath but Sunstreaker's grip was pinching a wire. His hold was rather lax, considering the power behind his frame.
The door chose that moment to open. A startled gasp greeted the twins' audios before someone had the audacity, or the stupidity, to reach out and grab Sunstreaker's arm. The owner of the arm probably only wanted to separate what he thought was a confrontation, but what he got instead was a face full of enraged Pit fighter.
Sunstreaker was before the new mech in a spark beat, their olfactory sensors brushing against one another. The stranger's arm had been deflected and now hung limp at his side, a stinging shudder still pronounced along the plating.
"Explain yourself," the mech said in a cultured tone.
"Frag off," Sunstreaker growled, chest vibrating with his words.
"Sunny," Sideswipe said, placing his arm between his brother's golden chest and the black and white chest of his competition.
"I suggest you heed the advice," the mech said, his door wings flared wide in intimidation.
It didn't work on Sunstreaker. He had terminated Praxian's before.
"I suggest you keep your servos to yourself lest you have them removed," Sunstreaker answered, his voice sending shivers along spinal struts. How the mech managed to hit that deep, resonant tone, no one knew. But another black and white mech in the room perked up with interest.
"Stand down, the both of you," a commanding voice resounded from the room.
The black and white mech instantly dropped to a submissive stance, squared his shoulders, hiked his doorwings and spun, almost clipping Sunstreaker with the appendages. He walked to his chair and sat down with all the royalty associated with the Tower mechs.
"Sit down," the voice ordered.
The twins stepped hesitatingly into the room, unsure of where they were to sit. Every bot of high command was present. It was very unnerving and disconcerting. Steps slow, unsure, the twins ventured into the room, Sunstreaker falling into step behind his twin.
A long table, seating at least thirty mechs and femmes was centered in the room. The chairs were evenly spaced, allowing even a doorwinger amply room to move without fear of damaging their notorious attributes. The twins collective gaze traveled the length of the table and with dual noises of shocked embarrassment, realized the Prime was standing in expectation. His hand gestured toward the two chairs seated on his left. Obediently the twins took the offered seats, the two black and white officers sitting opposite. The twins felt like this was a trial before an execution.
"I am Optimus Prime," the cultured voice of the Autobot leader rang out into ever corner of the room. "You are not in trouble and there is no cause for dissent between yourself and any member of my staff."
The black and white officer that accosted Sunstreaker narrowed his gaze ever so slightly. It was obvious he held some sort of grudge against the mech who disobeyed his orders. Having the mech to also tell him to 'frag off' was another serious offence. Not to mention the slagger had moved so fast, there was no time to retaliate.
Sunstreaker directed his gaze from Prime to the black and white seated on his right, giving the door winged mech a curled lip in answer. He wasn't going to let the Prime dictate who he could hate and who he could show leniency toward. Only Sideswipe had that type of sway over him, and it wasn't exercised often.
"This is an informal meeting, allowing you to meet my staff and to choose which option would be best for you, either individually or together,' Prime continued.
Sunstreaker's gaze snapped back to the Prime. He sent a wave of trepidation toward his twin, who mirrored the sentiment. When mechs started talking about 'options', it usually meant the twins were going to have to make a tough decision. And it almost always ended in suffering.
"When you both enlisted you received updates and virus checks," Prime said, nodding toward the white clad mech seated halfway down the table. "Along with various other standardized tests required by all who enter our ranks."
The twins looked to the mech indicated and noticed the medic who had attended them when they first enlisted. He was gruff, direct, and didn't take slag from anyone. The twins had liked him immediately.
"One of the exams revealed some interesting results," Prime said, gaining the attention of the two mechs. He could see the cogs working in their processors, trying to understand which test was being referred to when one of them opened their vocalizer. And the wrong thing came out.
"So we're split spark twins," Sideswipe said with a forceful voice. His gaze hardened when he stared into the optics of the Autobot leader. "It doesn't mean we should be locked up and experimented on!"
Several gasps went throughout the ranks. Whispers rose up. If possible, the black and white doorwinged mech's gaze turned even harder, boring into the two sitting opposite. The other black and white registered surprise before his lip components curled into a crooked smirk.
Sunstreaker turned icy optics to the others at the table and noticed, with a strange pang of shock, that most were now staring in abject fear of the two. A couple shook their heads, staring with accusing optics to the two that defied the will of Primus and split into two beings.
Sideswipe's gaze followed his brothers, both sending a continuous stream of turmoil, trepidation, and a rising fear that they were about to fight for their lives. Again. Bots didn't take too well to learning that two amongst their midst were considered defective. On most of Cybertron, when a mech or femme is found to have glitches, they are reprogrammed. And if they can't be reprogrammed, they are terminated and sent to the smelters. Defects were an almost certain death to anyone.
It was as the twins watched the muttering table that Sideswipe noticed something and brought it to his brother's attention. The white medic who had ran their scans was scowling at the assembled bots, his lip curled in anger. His gaze traveled to each whispering bot, and though the twins could hear nothing between them, the scandalized bot would glance to the medic and still their vocalizers.
Apparently the medic had not divulged the twins unique nature.
"You didn't tell them?" Sunstreaker asked, finding his vocalizer. He wasn't one to speak, but when the situation called for it, he could hold his own in a conversation.
"It was no one's business," the medic replied with his usual curt tone. His optics cast down the table, earning silence. "And the information better not leave this room or the consequences will be dire to the one with a loose vocalizer."
Several bots looked down in shame.
The twins exchanged a look. Sunstreaker felt a strange sensation along his spark chamber. It was mirrored back as both started to rub along their chest plating directly above their spark chambers. Not knowing this strange new sensation, they mentally evaluated the feeling, trying to find the correct label. Their musings were cut short when the black and white mech without doorwings spoke up.
"Oh, you have to let me have them now!" he said, looking to Prime with the wide expectant optics of a youngling about to receive a special gift.
Both twins focused their optics on the mech, terror flooding their link. What did he mean, he wanted them? Oh Primus, it was the Pits all over again. Except now, instead of being experimented on and forced to fight for entertainment, they would be subjected to who knows what in the Autobot ranks. With Prime, the leader of the planet, anything could be done to the twins and the perpetrator would have the full blessing of the Prime!
The doorwinged mech turned in slow motion, giving his counterpart a look that stated he believed the other mech was a lunatic.
"Jazz," the doorwinged mech said in a warning tone.
'Jazz' offered a wide grin, unperturbed by the other mech's expression.
"The only one who gets to decide where they are going is the two who are involved," Prime said, cutting off any verbal sparring that may break out among his ranking officers. Honestly, some days he was in charge of a bunch of sparklings!
"Fine," Jazz said with an airy wave of his servo. He looked to the twins and gave them his most charming, and rather seductive grin.
"The reason you are called here is because of your test scores," Prime said, cutting off any further arguments. The twins gave the Autobot leader a perplexed look before he added, "Both of you have scored so highly upon your evaluations that you may chose what division would best suit you."
Jazz offered a waggle of his brow plating, that eerie grin still fixed upon his face.
"Prowl is in charge of our tactical division," Prime said, gesturing toward the mech with the door wings. "He oversees our battle strategies, diversionary tactics and battlefield simulations to prevent further loss of life. You may choose to work under him any in one of these fields."
"Jazz is our Special Ops mech," Prime said, earning that ever present grin from Jazz. "His specialties include sabotage, infiltration, extraction, and alternative means of intelligence gathering."
"Like hacking," Jazz added, his grin turning predatory. "No processor I can't navigate."
"You may choose to work under Jazz's tutelage under any of his specialties," Prime said, shaking his head at Jazz's look. He knew what was going through the mech's processor. It wasn't good. Or sane. Typical of Jazz.
"You're combat skills have been evaluated by Ironhide,' Prime said, directing the twins' gaze toward the weapons master, who narrowed his optics at the duo. "If you are willing, you may extend your skills to include a variety of weapons or assist in the tutelage of others in the art of self defense."
Ironhide glared at the two. He didn't like either of them. Ever since they had bested him in hand to hand combat, and embarrassed him in front of the new troops, he had every intention of getting even. Ironhide held a grudge like no other. He hoped they wouldn't choose his division. There would be a high probability of his cannons going off and terminating one or both of the cocky menaces.
"Red Alert is my Head of Security," Prime said, drawing the twins attention to a mech that resembled the twins own build. "His job is to keep the base safe and secure which includes the installation and counterattacks against his own security systems and picking the mechs best suited as security to enforce the rules."
The twins gaze went from Red Alert to the medic, expecting to hear the details of his job and the possibilities that awaited them in the medical wing. The mech spoke up, surprising them both.
"Don't look at me," the medic said, crossing his arms over his chassis and glaring at the two in turn. "I don't want you."
The twins shared a warm thrum of affection toward the gruff mech. Here was someone who they could relate…. and annoy. The odds were high that the medic had a decent vocabulary and could hold his own in a verbal sparring match. He had already kept the twins in check during their exams. Not to mention he had the bulk to put up a good fight if it came to blows.
"You may choose any of their offered stations,' Prime said, redirecting the twins to him. "Or you may choose combat."
The twins exchanged a look, their bond full of silent communication.
"You may work in tandem or in opposite fields," Prime reiterated, hoping to convey the magnitude of the offer presented. "Whatever your decisions, we honor your wishes. The choice is yours."
It took only a few seconds for the twins to reach a united conclusion. Working apart was out of the question. Working together on a project was a disaster waiting to happen. Neither could go too long without goading the other into an argument. Sitting behind a desk wasn't an option, due to the fact that it was boring and the twins would end up committing suicide to escape the tedium. Reporting to either of the mechs mentioned would mean having to conform to rules, regulations, and slogging through endless stacks of paperwork and meaningless forms. Not to mention the idea of having a superior really corroded their circuits. They liked free reign. They liked the freedom of doing what they wanted, when they wanted and not having someone to punish them for harmless transgressions. They liked the freedom that combat allowed.
Sideswipe turned toward Prime and answered, "We choose the front lines."
"What? Why?" Prowl asked his face a mask of shocked incredulity.
"Because fighting is what we do best," Sideswipe said, looking to the doorwinged mech and feeling his brother's mirth over their bond.
"But your scores…" Prowl trailed off, picking up a datapad and giving it a wave.
"We do what we do best," Sideswipe said with a shrug. "If we're behind the lines we can't ensure that the enemy won't make it through. But if we're out on the front lines…"
"The enemy doesn't stand a chance," Sunstreaker put in. Every bot present suppressed a shiver at his tone.
"That is sound logic," Prowl muttered.
"But you will be required to terminate mechs," Ironhide said, gauging the twins' reaction.
Both offered partial shrugs.
"It's what we do best," Sideswipe said.
"You mean, you don't have a problem with it?" Ironhide asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.
"No," Sunstreaker answered, staring daggers at the red mech.
"Waste of talent," Jazz said, leaning back in his chair and observing the two sitting opposite. They were a conundrum.
"Processors can become overtaxed. Systems develop glitches. A mech can lose their mind wondering if they made the right decision and deal with the consequences of lives lost due to ill timed or misdirected actions," Sideswipe said. "Out on the battlefield it's simple. Kill or be killed. We can control what happens on a more personal level and won't be plagued during charge about whether or not we made a correct decision."
"So you would rather terminate a mech than direct another to do the action?" Ironhide asked.
"I would know that the mech was terminated properly," Sunstreaker said, his icy optics boring into the darker blue of the weapon's master. "Without hesitation."
Something about the golden warrior's tone sent a cold tingle along spinal struts. The short demonstration the twins performed during their initial introduction to the Autobot forces were of any indication, both were well adept at terminating an opponent and would have no problem in sending someone to the smelter. It was cold, cruel, calculating, and something that was needed while fighting on the front lines. One had to have a resolve made of titanium to be the first wave of attack in the middle of a slaughter.
"You both wish to remain in infantry?" Prime asked.
"Yes," the twins chimed in unison.
"Very well," Prime said with a nod toward Prowl, who typed on a datapad. "Your decision has been recorded and your schedule augmented accordingly. If at any time you wish to change your processor, you have but to notify the Command Staff."
"Doubtful," Sideswipe said, but inclined his head in respect to the leader's words.
"If there are no more issues," Prime said to the room at large. When silence greeted his inquiry he gave a nod and added, "Dismissed."
The bots stood as one unit until Prime left the room, disappearing with Prowl and Red Alert flanking him. Several of the bots who had been whispering chose to collect in small knit circles and continue their conversation. Ratchet elbowed past them with an irritated huff and disappeared out the door. No one approached the twins. Optics stared at them, hands shielded flapping lip components, helms shook in answer to whispered words, but no one approached the two.
Sideswipe grabbed his twins' wrist, tugging him toward the door. Sunstreaker offered a parting sneer before following his brother out. The door closed behind them. Neither were aware they were followed until a third set of pedefalls resounded in the corridor. Both turned to find Jazz had followed them out.
How did the sneaky mech move so fast? Without being heard?
"Are you sure you made the right decision?" Jazz asked when the duo turned to greet him in open hostility.
"Hoping we'd change our minds and work for you?" Sideswipe asked, one brow ridge cocking with the question.
"I was hoping you would be open to the suggestion," Jazz admitted, his optics darting across the two frames behind his visor. "Special Ops has a lot to offer."
"Not interested," Sunstreaker said, having that itchy feeling along his plating that meant he was being scrutinized.
"Could be beneficial," Jazz said nonchalantly, rocking a little on his pedes.
"No," Sideswipe said, feeling a dark thrum coming from his twin. Jazz was standing too close for the golden mech's liking. Both could feel the shorter mechs EM field brush against theirs every so often. It was like being caressed by a live wire.
"Your scores ranked as high as my own," Jazz pressed onward, oblivious to the torrential storm building within arms reach. "I could show you a thing or two about subterfuge and infiltration. Teach you the proper way to infiltrate and help you polish your skills so no one would see you coming."
"Not interested," Sideswipe parroted his brother's words, sending a pulse of reassurance to the antsy warrior.
Sunstreaker flexed his body, the tension building with each passing second. Not only was the black and white mech encroaching on their personal space and not understanding their undesirable stance with his proposal, with the way Jazz was speaking, it was like he was questioning the twins' abilities. As if Jazz alone could perform precise feats and execute moves without detection. It was insulting.
"With your natural talents, I could…" Jazz started, but his words were cut off as Sunstreaker moved in a blur of gold.
Before Jazz could continue, Sunstreaker had grasped the smaller mech, shoving him forward. Both twins locked their arms into position, effectively trapping Jazz between them. If he wanted to escape his gilded cage, he'd have to go through one of them.
Jazz's helm almost collided with Sideswipe's chin. Sunstreaker's expert and unexpected handling had sent the smaller mech reeling. One minute he was staring between the twins, spouting his promises, the next he was forcibly grabbed and caged between the two. Sunstreaker stood against his back, the growl coming from him deep enough to resonate in Jazz's frantic spark. Sideswipe stood before Jazz, his carmine armor blocking all view of the outside world. Escape was cut off as gold and red intertwined on both sides, keeping Jazz immobile between them.
"I doubt you could teach us anything," Sideswipe said, his voice rumbling from his chassis and causing the proximity sensors on Jazz to go haywire. "But if you think you could take us, I invite you to try."
"Not my intent," Jazz said, relaxing in a submissive display. He had no intention of inciting their wrath. He may be good, but with the prowess just displayed by the two mechs currently encasing him in their midst, his odds of survival were nominal.
"I suggest you find someone else to harass," Sunstreaker rumbled, his voice coming from all around.
Jazz shivered from the timbre. And the threat. He knew he overstepped his bounds with these two volatile mechs. He tried another tactic to defuse the situation.
"Didn't mean to harass. Just wanted to extend a servo of welcome and admiration," Jazz said, looking up slightly into Sideswipe's optics. "Talent such as yours is to be appreciated and I may have gotten carried away in my adulation of your skills. Please, accept my apologies."
"Flattery will get you slagged," Sunstreaker growled, his arms closing in and making Jazz feel like he was in a compacting unit.
Sideswipe's fingers tightened on his brother's arm, gaining his attention.
"You do not fear us?" Sideswipe asked, watching as the black and white mech stood impassive between the two worst mechs ever built. "You do not believe we are abnormal and deserve a one way trip to the smelters?"
"We're all abnormal," Jazz said without flinching from the oppressive cage he was held in. "But that's what makes us unique. We're not lower than anyone else and we're no better. We are what we are and we do what we do best."
Sideswipe narrowed his optics, staring at Jazz, trying to decipher his motives. Sunstreaker allowed his brother the contemplative silence, knowing Sideswipe had a better handle on judging character. Sunstreaker didn't have such judgments. He wanted to throttle or terminate them all, regardless.
With a nod Sideswipe disengaged from his twin, their arms falling lax at their side. Jazz remained motionless, not wanting to make any sudden move in case either decided they needed some physical exertion and wanted to take out their stress on him.
"Try to remember that the next time you corner Pit fighters," Sideswipe said, jerking his head in dismissal.
Jazz nodded, looking over his shoulder and gracing Sunstreaker with a crooked grin that the golden mech didn't return.
"Sorry mechs. Like I said, I get carried away," Jazz said, laughter tingeing his voice. "I didn't mean any offense."
"Just remember who you're dealing with," Sideswipe reiterated. He nodded toward the hall and without another word, Sunstreaker sidestepped a stunned Jazz and followed his twin down the corridor. They disappeared without a backward glance.
"Oh, I remember," Jazz said long after the twins departed. He stared at the place where they disappeared, a grin on his face. "But you forget who I am."
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Just a possible way on how the crews got together. Im working on a back story to better explain the twins and their scores. Its just an idea but hopefully, I can work it out. :D
Love to all!
