A Gifted Streak
AUTHOR'S NOTE AT END.
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It was black,
It was dark outside. …
It was nighttime….
It was a rainy night….
The weather was bad for Lamborghinis…
Sunstreaker frowned, staring at the screen. This was a lot harder than what he thought.
Slag Prowl.
Slag Smokescreen.
Slag all Praxians! Well, maybe not Bluestreak. His sharp shooting skills had been extemporary as of late and Sunstreaker had been saved numerous scratches from Deceptions. Not to mention possible damage and termination. So, Sunstreaker was feeling generous. He was going to give Bluestreak some slack. And let him live. The other two Praxians?
They were scrap metal.
Prowl had decided to get creative since the normal punishment detail had no effect. Sunstreaker didn't think he was capable of such a feat. But the accursed doorwinger had finally done it. He had found Sunstreaker's flaw. That was another reason to terminate the slagger. Their punishment had Smokescreen's servo prints all over it. That was another reason to terminate the duo. They were in on it together. Sneaky fraggers.
Sideswipe was already performing his newest punishment detail in that he was Prowl's personal secretary. It was a title he loathed and the thrum of boredom had been Sunstreaker's companion all day. Now that it was evening, Sideswipe was in the rec room drowning his misery in high grade and Sunstreaker was left to tackle his own punishment.
Sunstreaker asked to swap punishment with his twin but Prowl had refused. Sideswipe was all in favor of the swap, but Prowl said it was to ensure that both learn a lesson. Well, Sunstreaker wasn't sure the lesson Prowl wanted learned but he was about to get a datapad shoved in an uncomfortable place.
The details of his punishment were just the broadstrokes, Prowl, of course, having very little imagination. It was Smokescreen who made the suggestion and the other Praxian fragger took it from there. Sunstreaker wasn't sure if Prowl was sadistic or a visionary. Either way, he was going to be terminated by Sunstreaker's servos.
Sunstreaker stared at the screen, seeing the little icon blink at him in doleful submission. Slagging thing. His fingers flew across the keyboard, trying it again…
"It was a dark and stormy night….."
Sunstreaker looked at the opening line, a brow ridge cocked. Well, if the slagger thought that making Sunstreaker take a creative writing course was going to be beneficial, he would be reminded on how diabolical the golden mech could be when provoked.
Originally Smokescreen had mentioned a good way to vent frustration was expressing oneself in a diary. Sunstreaker wasn't going to lower himself to write a diary, let alone one that was to be read by the SIC to ensure his punishment detail was paid in full. Not to mention, as the ships processor hacker, Smokescreen would be reading the diary as well.
Well, slag that.
Sunstreaker would never allow another an in-depth look into his thoughts. His personal thoughts were his own, and he'd be slagged if he shared such personal things to another. Even Sideswipe was blocked from some aspects, just as Sunstreaker was blocked from his twin. A person needed to keep some things to themselves, something that's personal and no other can know. The secret is what defines originality and personality. Having yourself open as a book to be pursued was not a fulfilling life. There was nothing extraordinary about the mundane and foreseeable ending.
No one likes predictability.
Which is how Prowl was able to throw the twins for a loop with their punishments. Sideswipe was to act as secretary to the SIC and perform some of his menial tasks and Sunstreaker as assigned to complete a creative writing course from some stupid human learning institution. The first assignment was to write a short story and Sunstreaker was finding the words evasive.
Particularly, because he didn't know what to write.
Well, if Prowl wanted to punish him, Sunstreaker would have to return the favor. With an evil smirk he set to typing.
The wind howled through the trees, causing their frames to creak and shudder. The wind raced to the horizon were it stilled into silence, the moon demanding the peace. As the moon wandered, the clouds gathered, blocking earth from sky. Keeping them separated, never to join together. The trees bent, pleading with the cloudy seas of battle grey and sooty air. The heavens rumbled in thundering silence, arguing with the earth. The moon watched, fearful, suspended above the battlefield, unable to see the two combatants at ground level. A cold spread, covering the land. A cold so deep, it made the bones burn in their fleshy frames, scorching from the inside out with icy fire. Voices lifted up, silent and shaming, screaming with the silence of the ages and scars long past.
Into the night Sunstreaker typed. Sideswipe came in sometime near midnight and passed out on his berth, his snores a symphony to Sunstreaker's devious mind.
When Sunstreaker left for his shift at the monitors the next morning, he handed the datachip to his twin.
"Give that to your boss," Sunstreaker said as he passed, tossing the chip to Sideswipe who barely caught it.
"What is it?" Sideswipe asked, following his brother out the door.
"My first and last attempt at writing a story for Prowl's amusement," Sunstreaker said, taking the left turn that lead to the command center. Sideswipe shrugged and turned right, going to Prowl's office.
Half an hour later, Sideswipe gave a flood of admiration and affection to his twin. Sunstreaker gave a jerk as the emotions hit him like a physical blow. He wasn't expecting them. He opened the private link he shared with his twin.
'What?' Sunstreaker demanded, wondering what crawled under his brother's plating and made him so happy.
'Just wanted to let you know that your story was a big hit,' Sideswipe answered. 'Prowl got through half the first page before he locked up, sputtering about illogical comparisons,' Sideswipe informed his brother with another swell of laughter and pride. 'He cashed, Ratchet rebooted him, and when he came to, he babbled about conundrums and then keeled over again. Ratchet having to do a complete defrag and system reboot which knocks Prowl out of commission for the rest of the day.'
'Which means you're off,' Sunstreaker said, feeling disgusted. He was stuck on shift for another few hours.
'Don't worry, Bro,' Sideswipe said, leaving the pile of datapads in Prowl's office and heading toward his own quarters for some much needed charge. 'I'll pay you back for the wonderful little distraction you provided.'
'No thanks,' Sunstreaker said. 'It's because of you I was punished to begin with.'
'I had nothing to do with the chicken and barbed wire,' Sideswipe said, somehow managing to keep a straight face. 'But there may be a downside you didn't count on.'
'Besides you being my twin?' Sunstreaker quipped.
'Nope,' Sideswipe said, not catching the jibe. 'But Smokescreen wanted to have a word with you later today, after shift. He was rather impressed with your essay and wanted to talk about it.'
'Fragger,' Sunstreaker growled, both over the link and verbally. Jazz gave him half a glance before returning his attention back to Tele-Trans reports. The crew was used to the twins' odd outbursts and one sided conversations. It was perfectly normal to hear one of them gripe about something and threaten thin air.
'He said you have a talent,' Sideswipe said, going to his berth and settling down.
"I'm going to beat his wings off," Sunstreaker said over the link and verbally, slamming the consol and causing the screen to jump.
Jazz arched a brow ridge and smirked. "Let me guess. Prowl?"
"And Smokescreen," Sunstreaker said, his expression dark.
"Just, make it look like an accident,' Jazz said with an air of nonchalance. "I really don't need the paperwork." He frowned, looked up, then added, "Actually, don't kill either. I don't want any paperwork. They terminate, and my workload doubles."
"No promises," Sunstreaker said, his hackles raising when Smokescreen pinged him.
'If you want to talk about the stupid story then I will print it out and stuff it into your ports before setting them alight,' Sunstreaker said without pleasantries. 'Then I will rip off your doorwings and beat you with them until you're nothing but a pile of scrap.'
'You have issues with rage,' Smokescreen said, not perturbed by the threats. Though he made sure never to be alone while Sunstreaker was in this kind of mood.
'Yes, I do and I enjoy it,' Sunstreaker said with pride. 'And if you keep pestering me, I will show you a first hand demonstration. This lesson, as Prowl put it, is at an end.'
'Pity,' Smokescreen said, knowing that Sunstreaker would be true to his word. 'Because I think your skills extend far beyond the canvas and that is something to be congratulated. But if you're content with invisible mediocrity, who am I to argue?'
Before Sunstreaker could retort Smokescreen had cut the transmission.
Perhaps he should continue with his creative writing course? Who was he to deny his talent to such adoring public?
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Well, the prayers came through. I wanted to thank each and every one of you for all your wonderful messages. I have excellent news! The Neurosurgeon saw that mom was not put on ANY form of medication and he hit the roof! Apparently the lesion she has can be controlled by medications and he said it has an 80% chance of shrinking or even disappearing completely! He was furious the other doctors automatically wanted her to undergo surgery when all other avenues hadn't even been discussed. So, she's on medication to reduce the pressure in her skull and to help with the numbness, tingling, and pain that randomly crops up all along her body. She gets MRIs every three months to monitor it.
So... relief! We have been blessed and we're thankful every day.
