Not Your Standard Sidearm

*MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE TO EVERYONE*

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"I'm not going on patrol," Sunstreaker stated firmly, his arms crossed over his chest, defiance seeping from every joint.

"You will or you will spend a month in the brig and I will withhold your next shipment of art supplies," Prowl said, not backing down on his decision.

"You wouldn't dare!" Sunstreaker hissed, arms uncrossing to curl up at his sides.

"You should know by now that I do not bluff," Prowl said with a little hint of pride. Thanks to a certain pair of Lamborghinis he was improving on his poker face and had already experienced a wide range of emotions. Most of them were negative, but as long as his emotional center was learning to cope, he could deal with the backlashes. Right now he was in a staring contest with one irate golden warrior.

"But, Hound cant go fast!" Sunstreaker barked with a scowl. "I need someone who can keep up with me!"

"No, you need to slow down,' Prowl rebuked. "I have too many speeding tickets to deal with at the moment, and most of them have your designation on them."

"I can go much faster than what they post," Sunstreaker argued, temper still boiling. Prowl had an uncanny way of keeping him from erupting, but simmering on a back burner. "If no one was intended to go that fast, then they would not have invented speed and therefore, no need for limits."

"Your argument isn't valid. Proceed to the entrance of the ARK for your patrol."

"Well, if you don't buy the speed thing, how about this," Sunstreaker sneered, leaning over Prowl's desk to hover over the Praxian. "Hound isn't a fighter. He's too weak. If I'm in the slag, about to be sent to the smelters, I need someone who can whip a Con's aft and not be so slagging passive!"

"Hound has his attributes," Prowl said evasively. "I suggest you use the time to learn some of them."

"Like what?" Sunstreaker snorted, unimpressed. He highly doubted that Hound of all mechs, could teach him anything, especially when it came to combat.

"Like taking your time, enjoying the scenery, and finding a measure of tranquility by enjoying the beauty of this organic world," Prowl put in. "Surely your artistic optic could benefit from the multi-planular spectrums?"

Sunstreaker frowned, thinking. Prowl had a point. He did love painting landscapes and with the hectic chaos of fighting Cons all the time and simpering to the humans, sometimes Sunstreaker forgot to sit and actually LOOK at the world around him. It would also be beneficial if he got the perspective of another's optic. Hound was pretty easy going and wouldn't think it was a waste of time like Sideswipe whined when his brother was in a reflective mood. Hound may actually listen or better yet, make suggestions that Sunstreaker could use to his artistic advantage.

"Sunstreaker, the fact dissolves into this," Prowl said, leaning back in his chair, his doorwings flared wide to accommodate such action. "Half our forces are still in recovery from the last battle with the cons, your brother included. Those who are less injured need to fill available duty slots until the injured have been cleared by Ratchet to resume duties. Prime himself is recovering, leaving me to handle not only my own regular duties, but his as well. And I know I don't need to remind you about the constant inane chatter from the humans that Prime must deal with on a daily basis."

Soundly rebuked, Sunstreaker's anger abated. He huffed heavily, still not happy but accepting of his new duties.

"And I would not ask for this patrol were it not for the fact that with human dignitaries flying in to attend a sporting event and ceremony the Cons may take advantage of the influential humans and stage an attack. I need the area monitored constantly to ensure that the humans remain safe and that the Cons don't perform any blitz attacks while our numbers are so diminished."

Sunstreaker gave a jerk of his head in affirmation before leaving. Prowl heaved a heavy sigh and picked up his datapads, hoping that the Decepticons were just as damaged and wouldn't make any attempts on the humans in the near future. Red Alert had taken extra precautions, making sure Tele-Tran's orbiting systems were now monitoring five square miles around the Ark in all directions.

So it was up the Autobots to actively patrol along the beach and the city, their scanners attuned for any errant Decepticon signals.

Sunstreaker saw his patrol partner standing at the mouth of the Ark, his face turned toward the outside, his back toward the entrance. Sunstreaker thought it was a very vulnerable position. But then again, one wasn't normally attacked by their allies. Unless Sideswipe was healthy and in a particularly feisty mood. Then he could jump out at any time. One would think the many times he'd been sent to medbay for pulling this stunt would have taught a valuable lesson, but Sideswipe's helm was extraordinarily thick. On the upside, all the mechs were becoming adapted to his sneak attacks and were developing quite the self defense repartee.

Hound turned when he heard Sunstreaker approach. As always, there was a smile on his face.

"Sorry about this, Sunstreaker," Hound said, looking away as the brilliantly buffed mech approached. Sunstreaker's shine job rivaled his namesake. "I can't go as fast as you but I can try to keep up."

Sunstreaker offered a huff through his vents and transformed, gunning his powerful engine and making the green Jeep beside of him rattle on its axels. Without warning the golden warrior shot out of the entrance, Hound taking sometime to shift up to the fast pace the Lamborghini liked. Sunstreaker roared toward the open road, the highway not far from the Arks' crash site. He hit the highway, his engine barely humming between eighty and eighty five. Hound growled a few car lengths behind. Sunstreaker knew the utility mech wasn't built for such speeds and would be tiring quickly. He waited for Hound's plea to slow down but after five miles, the green shadow was still keeping pace.

"Too fast for you?" Sunstreaker called, his smirk evident in his voice.

"Not too bad," Hound replied. His engine couldn't fly like the sports cars but he still had some speed to his old rims. "I just cant go any faster."

Sunstreaker sneered mentally, adding a little more pressure to his accelerator and jumping up to just over ninety. As predicted, Hound fell back further, maintaining his eighty mile an hour stride. As long as Sunstreaker stayed on his sensor grid, he was fine.

A storm was rolling over from the ocean, the breeze hot and humid and making Sunstreaker hiss in distaste. The ten miles that bordered the ocean were quickly eaten by fast tires. Sunstreaker took the last exit before leaving the main city, and growled when a red light mocked him. It was the same color as Sideswipe. Surely humans had picked the color just to annoy him.

Hound came thundering off the interstate and stopped behind Sunstreaker, his engine throttling on high from the exertion. Air gusted through his vents but he didn't offer any complaint. Sunstreaker figured the mech wouldn't say anything. He was far too passive in the golden mech's opinion. Hound was what the humans called a 'push over.' Sunstreaker saw him as weak, and apart from the occasional hologram or force field, he didn't provide much use on the battle field. Sunstreaker noted on many occasions how the green Jeep kept mainly to the back lines for supply and occasional cover fire. He wasn't a really good shot and his hand to hand skills weren't what Sunstreaker believed they could be. Hound had a reinforced frame and a strong bearing. He just never used it. Often he had gotten sidetracked from missions by the local organic life and always was he bringing rescued creatures to the Ark for care before returning them to the wild.

Sunstreaker never will forget Prime waking up to a grizzly bear curled up at the foot of his berth. One realized the mech's heritage when he was scared. Being Prime was a regal position and garnered instant respect and wisdom, but terrify a mech, regardless of bearing, and one can hear the docks come through via colorful adjectives.

Ratchet was so proud.

Then Hound got knocked cold by a hammer. Ratchet's wrenches had mysteriously come up missing earlier that morning and he had to improvise.

As the duo were slowly cruising by a construction site they were made aware of spark signatures close by. Since most of the Autobots were banged up in medbay, the only ones who could be out would be Decepticons. Sunstreaker boosted his scanner and felt a mixture of disappointment and relief when only two signatures pinged back. He wanted a challenge, but then again, his "partner" wasn't the best back up.

"We should radio base," Hound said as soon as he detected the two spark pulses. "Get back up."

"We don't need back up," Sunstreaker sneered, wondering once again why he was paired with the skittish mech. "There's only two signatures."

Sunstreaker didn't wait for Hound to respond. He dampened his own field and eased away from the flow of traffic. Hound followed at a sedate pace. Sunstreaker was able to pinpoint where the spark signatures were coming from, and slipped easily between the broken links in the fence.

The area was a construction zone and before the two rounded the corner they could hear voices.

"Hurry up, Hook!" Scavenger barked.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Hook snapped back. His voice was muffled due to the fact his head was under the hood of a dump truck "These parts are human made so that means they are delicate to extract."

"Just get the parts so we can get out of here," Scavenger grumbled.

Sunstreaker transformed, Hound following suit. Together they peeked around the edge of a partially constructed building and sure enough, there were two Constructicons. It was obvious both had not faired well in the recent battle. Their normal green was pock marked with pewter welds and a few pieces of plating was missing. It was obvious the two were scavenging for parts from a human construction zone.

Sunstreaker calculated Scavenger to be the most injured, Hook appeared to have minimal scarring on his armor.

"You take Scavenger and I'll take Hook," he muttered to Hound.

"I don't think this is a good idea,' Hound answered. "We should call for back up."

"What is the point of going on patrol if we cant take out the cons who are doing damage?" Sunstreaker snapped, his optics blazing to white. He was winding up and that wasn't a good sign. The Cons were going to get it.

"I'm no match against a Constructicon,' Hound tried to reason with his partner. "They're plating is a lot thicker than mine."

"Obviously," Sunstreaker sneered, and sent a data burst with the full combat analysis of Scavenger's weakest points. "Disable him first, then slag him."

Before Hound could offer any more protest Sunstreaker was in motion. He darted out from his hiding place and charged the crane. Hook barely glimpsed the flash of gold before squalling and going tumbling over the construction litter.

Hound went after Scavenger, following Sunstreaker's valuable information about the construction mech's vulnerable points. He knew Sunstreaker had taken the stronger opponent and was thankful for it. He secretly had his doubts whether or not he could even take on an injured Scavenger.

The excavator had a momentary fear of being confronted with red and much to his surprise, he was attacked by something green. The two ended up inside of a small portable building and went tumbling along the construction site.

Sunstreaker didn't worry about his partner. A part of him chided that if Hound was a better fighter, he'd be the victor, hands down. If he failed to take out the very injured Constructicon, then Sunstreaker had every intention of informing the command staff about the gross negligence on the battle field that could have cost him his life. Everyone who takes patrols should have an extensive knowledge of hand to hand combat. Which Sunstreaker was suddenly very glad he excelled at.

Hook threw a punch but Sunstreaker was able to see it coming. He ducked out of the way and scored two hard hits to the crane's midsection before dancing away.

"Where's your brother?" Hook taunted, face contorted into a twisted expression. "Did he get slagged in the fight? Did we hurt him? Is he suffering? Will he terminate?"

Sunstreaker's expression remained stony, yet loathsome. He knew what the mech was trying to do. It wouldn't work. Sunstreaker was far too seasoned to allow barbs to injure him.

"He's a little banged up," Sunstreaker answered, never taking his optics off his opponent. His sharp optics caught the way Hook winced when stepping to his right. Instincts screamed to attack the vulnerable point. "Look's like he did more damage to you than what you did to him. Tell me, where's the rest of you? Are they slagged up in that pitiful excuse for a medbay?"

Hook snarled a string of obscenities and launched himself at Sunstreaker. He was able to land a punch to the golden mech's jaw before a rapid series of blows dented his midsection. As he doubled over in pain, Sunstreaker drew back and landed a heavy fist right on the Constructicon's olfactory sensor. Before Hook could recover from the blow, Sunstreaker spun behind the crane and flipped him over his back, hissing at the scratches he knew were appearing on his finish as the Con went sailing over his head. Hook handed in a heap on his injured side. He gave a groan, trying to roll off his damaged hip but Sunstreaker towered above him, a sadistic grin on his wickedly handsome face.

"Good night," he growled before stomping the Constructicon in the face. Hook was unconscious for the dozen or so kicks Sunstreaker planted along his body. The acid green mech wasn't going to be going anywhere under his own power any time soon.

Much to Sunstreaker's disgust, his right shoulder took the opportunity to squeak, now actively protesting from pulling a much heavier mech over his shoulder to toss him to the ground. Sunstreaker's frowned, moving his arm and rubbing along the shoulder joint. He knew Ratchet would have to take a look at it. That thought was sobering. Ratchet was in quite the mood since the last melee. Apparently, the medic was running on fumes as he monitored the handful of mechs who were severely injured. Sunstreaker would have to wait until after Ratchet caught up on his charge and refueling before he mentioned the injury, lest Sunstreaker suffer a medicinal iron supplement to the helm.

Favoring his right side, Sunstreaker heard the shouted vulgarities coming from the other side of the construction zone. He found Hound locked in a strong hold with Scavenger, both trying to upset the other and gain the upper hand. Sunstreaker had to admit, Hound was able to hold his own well against the larger mech. Course Scavenger was also badly damaged, so Hound couldn't have too much credit.

Sunstreaker knew he would have to intervene and save the Jeep. It seemed to be the only function he served in the army anymore. Rescuing his comrades who couldn't fend for themselves. He took in the situation, noting the two combatants were gripping each other's hands, pushing against the other, struggling to win the power struggle and topple their opponent.

Behind Hound was a power station. If he lost this test of strength, Scavenger could shove him into the electrical box and end his life. There were power lines that were running out of the grey metal box that could entangle the two, but Sunstreaker didn't think the Decepticon would want to receive an electrical jolt himself. He would want to win the endurance test and then push his opponent into something that would terminate him.

Hound staggered, his vents opening and drawing harsh gusts to compensate for the rising temperature as his systems were strained with trying to keep the Constructicon a bay. He staggered, never losing his grip on the excavator. Sunstreaker had to admire his perfect balance that kept him well braced against the much larger opponent.

Scavenger pushed harder, trying to exert a little more strength to overcome Hound's defenses.

"Give it up, Autobot," Scavenger hissed. "You're no match for me."

"I do believe I am disproving that theory," Hound retorted with a strained grunt. He widened his stance and held up, but the extra pressure caused his subspace pocket to hiss open.

Before anyone could register what had happened, half a dozen grayish white things shimmied out of the pocket, up over Hound's chassis, and right onto Scavenger. The clueless mech saw the small organic creatures erupt from the green Jeep and cross the bridge made by their bodies.

Their claws scraped at his dermal plating, sharp teeth bit into wires. Their small feet tickled and itched his plating as they ran, darting over junctures, biting exposed circuits, grasped and pulled on damaged plating, before moving on to find something else to bite. Two smaller ones were trying to work them way into his chassis, circling his midsection in a clawing frenzy, checking random plates for loose connections to allow entrance.

Scavenger broke away from his opponent, hooting like a crazed mech. A string of adjectives erupted from him as he slapped at the fast moving furry creatures that crawled over his body.

Hound stumbled with the loss of contact, then chased after the dancing Constructicon, his hands waving, his voice desperately pleading with the Constructicon.

"Don't hurt them, please!" Hound pleaded, trying to get close to the acid green mech, but his arms were flapping hysterically as he tried to beat the invaders from his body.

Sunstreaker stood back and watched the oddest scene he could ever imagine on the battlefield.

Scavenger hopped and kicked, shaking various parts of his body in an effort to rid himself of the annoying organic creatures. Piles of pipes were kicked. newly laid concrete was smashed. A pick up truck was flattened, the tires making popping noises like a cannon that would have caught Ironhide's attention. Scavenger performed the eclectic dance until he turned, ready to run screaming, but a steel beam prevented his escape. He slammed head first into the long metal support beam, knocking himself cold. He fell backward, the little furry creatures skittering out of the way so none would be crushed.

Hound gained the unconscious mechs side and opened his subspace pocket, his voice gentle and cajoling, urging the creatures back into his subspace where they would be safe.

"Come on," Hound said softly, waving his large servos toward his hip. "In you get. Did anyone get hurt?"

The furry creatures clamored up his calf and disappeared back into the dark confines of the subspace pocket. Hound made sure to give each a quick inspection before they disappeared, his shoulders slumping in relief when none registered any injury.

The rumble of engines could be heard closing in the distance. Very familiar engines.

"You called for back up?" Sunstreaker asked, joining his partner as he stood, his subspace pocket closing and protecting the organic cargo within.

"It's standard protocol," Hound said apologetically.

Sunstreaker's gaze drifted down to Hound's hip, where his pocket was sealed, hiding the little creatures from view.

Hound looked to Sunstreaker, his optics wide and beseeching. "You wont tell, Optimus about this, will you?"

"Of course not," Sunstreaker said waving off the mech's concern. There was no way he was adding anything that just transpired into his field report. No one would believe him. "Everyone knows it's standard military protocol to keep attack opossums in their pockets."

Hound grinned.

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Sorry for the delay guys but my uncle died on the 6th and my aunt moved in with us. They were married for 42 years. It's been quite the shock and needless to say, its taking some time for everyone to adjust. I haven't been able to devote hardly any time to the story, as I was dealing with family matters and I have since uploaded my first erotica. There's a link in my profile. (surprised I was able to finish it under emotional duress)

Hopefully I can give you all some nice Christmas present chapters to tide you over until I can tackle these again. I miss writing the twins SOOO much. It's like an ache that won't go away. I miss their antics.

On a side note, the computer I use to write my twin fics was soaked by a leaking roof. I have since patched the roof, and so far, so good. No more leaks. Monitor got the worst of it. It was leaking out of the bottom all over my headboard shelves. Tower might be salvageable, but I'm not holding my breath. I'm not chancing putting any electronics around the area any more, just as a precaution. So, until I can get a computer up and running to operate at night when I write, I'm even more restricted. *sighs* Someone please tell me that next year will be better... because this year is ending with one tragedy after another.