Bust A Cap In Your Side
AN: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! Sorry I can't get to everyone's messages, but know I keep each of you in my thoughts.
Sunstreaker29: I wish you all the best and hope you nail your opponent like your namesake. Keep me posted!
Sorry if this scenario has been already done. I haven't read on the site in years, so I don't keep up with what's out there. Don't mean to rehash or repeat, but I don't think this has been done yet. At least by me. And that's what counts. :D
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"Prime!" Sunstreaker thundered, entering the office without knocking. "You have to do something about Prowl!"
Prime shuttered his optics several times, and checked his audios receptors. They were working properly.
"Prowl?" He asked, confused.
"Slagger has gone too far this time!" Sunstreaker barked, slamming his fist down on Prime's desk and denting the metal. It joined the other marks the raging Lamborghini had applied over the many years of dedicated service. Prime's desk was more or less a lump. Not from the crash, but from Sunstreaker's abuse. And Wheeljack's occasional terrorism. And Jazz had dented the surface a few times. And Grimlock. Ironhide. .. Slag, he didn't realize how much abuse his poor desk had suffered. How was it still functional? Sunstreaker's fuming face pulled him from his thoughts.
"What may I ask, has he done to deserve my intervention?"
"Slagger has gone to far!" Sunstreaker reiterated, steam nearly pouring from his helm vents. Sideswipe slouched into the room looking forlorn. Prime was vaguely reminded of a kicked turbo-puppy.
"Yes, that has been established," Prime said, refocusing his attention to the golden tornado. "Care to elaborate?"
"Now you sound like him" Sunstreaker said, voice losing vehemence and dropping low. It was more like a threatening growl now.
"Sunstreaker, to the point," Prime directed.
"It is one thing to incarcerate us, make us do menial tasks, go drone-brained staring at monitors, but this…. this….." Sunstreaker hissed. His hands came up in front of him, like he was strangling an imaginary Prowl.
Prime wondered what Prowl could have done that caused Sunstreaker such a violent reaction. Course, with Sunstreaker's history, a mech could sing the wrong lyrics and get his vocalizer ripped out.
"We perform the tasks given and accept our brig punishments,' Sunstreaker pleaded his case, having finished slaughtering his imaginary adversary and focusing his attention back on Prime. "But taking a mech's hubcaps is a step too far!"
Prime blinked again. Surely he misheard. Hubcaps certainly wouldn't warrant a death. Oh wait. This was Sunstreaker.
"Hubcaps?" Prime repeated faintly.
Sunstreaker snarled obscenities that Prime didn't bother to object. Apparently it was devastating for the gold Lamborghini to be parted from his hubcaps. Prime vaguely wondered if they had anything to do with a specialize part or served some sort of specific function.
Then he remembered who was complaining.
"Does the lack of hubcaps cause you pain, or affect your job performance?" Prime asked, having a feeling to the real cause of the strife.
"Yes, I can't allow anyone to see me looking like this!" Sunstreaker spat. He took a couple steps back from Prime's desk to allow the Autobot leader to glimpse first his right then his left side. One hubcap was missing from each side.
"I'm asymmetrical!" Sunstreaker fumed, his hands grasping the desk and digging into the warped metal.
Prime looked to Sideswipe, who appeared bored. His brother's venting was plenty for the both of them. Without command he turned one way, then the other, showing that he too was missing opposite hubcaps.
"And what is this punishment for?" Prime asked.
"When Wheeljack was charging, I glued his hands to his interface panel," Sideswipe gave a shrug. He wasn't sorry for his actions. Judging by his demeanor, the punishment had not fit the crime. Nothing had been learned.
"And why were you added to the punishment detail?" Prime asked Sunstreaker.
"Proxy," Sunstreaker grunted.
"You repainted Wheeljack in lacy human things," Sideswipe amended, a grin threatening to split his face.
"Only because you promised to allow me some peace and quiet for a week," Sunstreaker muttered darkly. He knew who was the real Slag Eater in this situation. And he didn't sport doorwings. But, that was another death wish all together.
Prime nodded. He remembered the little repaint and glue incident. When Wheeljack asked why his interface panel, Sideswipe had crowed something about the inventor needing to protect his equipment from being blown up. The Autobots had laughed themselves silly, all except Ratchet, who had to use industrial solvent to get the inventor's hands free from his crotch plate. But Ratchet's mood was improved when he realized Wheeljack's experimenting would be on hiatus until the mesh on his hands healed and allowed him to physically touch his experiments again.
"I'll serve a sentence in the brig," Sunstreaker declared. "But messing with a mechs good looks is going too far. This is against protocol!"
"I believe Prowl knows what is within the bounds of protocol," Prime said, knowing Prowl was probably bending the regulations regularly when it came to the twins. "He would not enact a punishment if it were not properly sanctioned by our code of conduct."
"Disfiguring a mech is not within the code of conduct," Sunstreaker growled, crossing his arms over his chest and staring sullenly at his commander. "I didn't sign up to be maimed and mutilated by my own side."
"You are not maimed and mutilated, Sunstreaker," Prime sighed. "If you dislike the configuration, why do you not change it?"
"Because Prowl said if we try to augment our looks by any degree, he'll extend the punishment from two months to a year," Sideswipe put in. He rolled his optics and adopted his brother's pose of crossed arms. "Honestly, I don't know what all the fuss is about. It was just some innocent glue and paint. It's not like we gave the Cons access codes or something."
"I may," Sunstreaker threatened darkly. He was pissed enough to do just that. … and add the stipulation that the Cons had to rip Prowl a new aft seam for all the trouble he caused.
'Prime?' Prowl asked over comms. 'Are the twins filing a complaint against my most recent punishment detail?'
'Yes, Prowl, they are,' Prime said, looking at the fuming golden mech. Sideswipe was nonchalant. He could care less if he was asymmetrical.
'I assure you, sir, that my punishment detail breaks no codes of conduct, nor inflicts any physical damage,' Prowl felt the need to explain.
'I know.' Prime said, knowing that Prowl omitted the part about emotional or psychological damage.
The few times the twins were assigned to Smokescreen for mental evaluation, the Praxian had not been greeted with enthusiasm… unless one counted the time he was glued to the his desk with his aft up in the air and a smiley face on his aft plates. Sideswipe directed bots to Smokescreen's office with promises of 'free tailpipe', but thankfully, everyone had rescued the blithering mech before any real damage could be done.
Sideswipe had spent a good portion in the brig for his antics. Sunstreaker usually covered for his twin or helped set up unknowing victims, so by default, he was thrown into the brig as well. Both never learned their lesson. Neither seemed to learn from their incarcerations. Prowl was running out of ideas for punishment. Though now, it appeared he had hit upon a good corrective measure for future pranking endeavors.
'I haven't broken protocol,' Prowl started, but Prime cut across.
'This punishment seems to have the desired effect. Sunstreaker will think twice about assisting his brother in future pranks and eventually, he'll beat Sideswipe for even attempting them.'
'I had hoped it wouldn't degrade to acts of violence,' Prowl admitted, frowning to himself.
'This is the twins we're discussing,' Prime reminded his SIC. 'Sometimes the only way they learn is through painful remuneration.'
Prowl offered a low hum in agreement.
'The punishment appears to have its desired affect,' Prime stated, hoping to assure the junior officer. 'Might I suggest other forms of preclusion that pertains to their individual vanity?'
'Suggestions noted,' Prowl said before signing off. 'Thank you, sir.'
"I suggest the two of you attend your assigned duties, because Prowl is not violating protocols and has amassed quite the list of alterative punishments to ensure that both of you will think twice about disrupting your comrades," Prime said to the two Lambos. He felt guilty about his little white lie, but both frontliners had to know their behavior had consequences.
Sideswipe frowned, annoyed. It was hard to tell if it was his own feeling, or Sunstreaker's boiling vehemence that was leaking through.
Most forget that Sideswipe may calm his brother, but their sparkbond was like a door. It could swing both ways. Where Sideswipe could calm his twin and channel his aggression, Sunstreaker's rage could sometimes overpower his twin and fire Sideswipe up into a murderous frenzy.
"If you expect me to allow anyone to see me looking like this!" Sunstreaker spat. "If I have to be disfigured, then I am off active duty! Period!"
"You are not disfigured, merely asymmetrical," Prime said, his voice becoming deeper, a clear indication he was going to be obeyed. He only allowed so much back talk before his stern hand came down. "You will attend your duties, and you will learn from this experience. Perhaps next time you wish to cause mischief, you can remember the humiliation you suffered and will think twice before suffering the fate once again. Now, both of your are dismissed."
Sunstreaker knew it was a hopeless battle. Vents heaving, fists curled, he whirled and stormed from Prime's office. Sideswipe gave the Autobot leader a dark glower.
"You mess with his looks, you stir up a hornet's nest."
"Perhaps if the true instigator for this punishment learned his lesson, then it would stop being necessary."
Properly chastised, Sideswipe took his exit.
Sunstreaker's mood was so caustic during the next week that after duty, he was confined to quarters, least he try to physically construct Superion by overwhelming and partially transforming the jets to piece them together. Sideswipe was seen a few times with cracked plates, a busted lip, squeaky joints, and several weld scans from ruptured plating and hoses his brother inflicted while confined to quarters.
The instigator was learning a painful lesson, taught to him not by his superiors, but by his twin.
The first month passed by without incident. Sunstreaker holed himself up in his studio, toiling over his art and physically attacking anyone who encroached on his domain. His duties were attended in surly disposition, his acerbic bite even more vicious when one wasn't expecting the venom sent their way. Many a bot had flinched from Sunstreaker's sharp tongue and hate filled optics.
Smokescreen mentioned that such seclusion wasn't healthy, but Prowl waved off his fellow Praxian's concerns.
Sunstreaker was just pouting. Hiding in his studio meant that no one could see his 'imperfection.' He was in no physical danger, except from his twin, who would goad
him into violence.
The two could be heard battling in their quarters at all hours of the day and night. Hours later, both crawled into medbay, where Ratchet knocked them both cold and repaired their frames. When they woke, they were immobilized for several days to ensure complete rehabilitation.
Ratchet was well aware of their reputation, and when they were in such moods, their wounds took much longer to heal. Both were not good at being idle.
The only upside to Sunstreaker's 'disfigurement' was he had finished numerous pieces and was able to secure a gallery showing in three additional cities. Portland and Seattle were the usual venues, people coming from all over the globe to view the robotic alien's work. Previously, no other state had offered to host Sunstreaker, but since his exhibits had become the newest sensation, other galleries wanted to cash in. Sunstreaker was just thrilled he would have enough pieces to accommodate. Thanks to his creative output, galleries in Los Angeles, Dallas, and New York were to play host to the golden artist.
By Sunstreaker's calculations, each gallery would receive twenty pieces, some of them so cumbersome, Sunstreaker himself would have to move them.
Much to Sunstreaker's surprise, he was contacted a few days after receiving the timelines from the curators by a company who monitored records. According to their data, Sunstreaker was the only artist to have so many individual galas. A monumental achievement, and worthy of recognition.
He was doubly thrilled when they insisted upon interviews at each gala, and pictures to commensurate the special occasions. Prowl would have to give him the time off to attend these exhibitions, seeing how they could be classified as 'human relations.' And Prime was always lecturing on interacting with the local natives. Though Sunstreaker loathed the human race, he looked forward to having his picture taken and the adulation directed toward his immaculate shine.
Being a gracious, and arrogant mech, Sunstreaker made sure the openings were a week apart, giving him time to travel and set up his exhibits. And to soak in the local admiration from the human populace. He may not like organics, but he wouldn't deny them the opportunity to see him at his finest.
His hubcaps were to be returned in time for him to properly buff and greet his adoring public with the poise and glamour of a supernova. Hollywood's best had nothing on Sunstreaker.
Much to Sunstreaker's elation, several reporters contacted the base, asking for interviews. Even the local paper was buzzing with enthusiasm, parading the fact that someone from their area was going to be inducted into the World Record.
Sunstreaker found it amusing that they automatically assumed he was one of their own, and didn't seem to notice his alien physique. The idea they counted him among them so freely, was both humbling and disgusting. Sunstreaker wasn't really sure which was dominant.
The day before the interview, Sunstreaker approached Prowl.
"Humans arrive tomorrow to interview me for the new world record I will be setting with my work," he said upon entering Prowl's office without knocking. Actually, the only Autobot who knocked on Prowl's door was Prime. Everyone else just barged right in. "I need my hubcaps back."
"Punishment detail is still in effect for another eleven days," Prowl said without looking up.
Sunstreaker paused in his visual search of the office for his sacred hubs, but they were no where to be seen. He turned in slow motion to glare at Prowl.
"What?"
"Your punishment is still in effect. And if you attempt to confiscate Sideswipe's hubcaps to balance your look, then you will be forced to wear one hubcap for a year." Prowl didn't bother looking up from his datapad. Since Sunstreaker was ashamed of being seen out in public, he and Sideswipe had remained on base and not racing on human roads. Since their punishment detail, the Autobots had not received a speeding ticket. Prowl enjoyed he reprieve.
"But... the interview!" Sunstreaker sputtered. Surely Prowl wouldn't want him looking so scruffy for such an important event?
"If they inquire as to why you have missing hubcaps, then I suggest you mention a battlefield injury." Prowl offered an exasperated look to his unwanted visitor. "I really don't care what excuse you employ."
Sunstreaker boiled with anger. Fists curled at his side he marched out of Prowls office, fighting back the urge to go back in and trounce the Praxian within an inch of his life. Teach the fragger a lesson. But his deviousness reared with a better course of action. That trait was courtesy of Sideswipe, and for once, Sunstreaker was glad he was in possession of it.
Into the night Sunstreaker polished and buffed, making himself as irresistible as possible. If he wanted to distract the humans from his imperfection, he better give them something better to focus on. So with meticulous attention to detail, Sunstreaker made his armor shine like his very namesake. When the humans arrived early in the morning, he strode out he meet them, arriving as the very fiery presence that illuminated their world.
There were a handful of reporters, a male representative from the world record committee and the gallery owners from all respective cities.
As soon as the humans saw Sunstreaker, they began to clap, cheering as he approached. He stepped out of the shadow of the Ark and as the sun fell upon his armor, the humans gasped in awe and admiration.
"So... so, beautiful!" One of the gallery owners whispered, taking in the golden form sauntering toward him.
Sunstreaker quirked his brow ridge in a cocky manner he learned from Sideswipe. He halted a few paces away and struck a pose, rocking to one hip and allowing the humans to admire him from many angles.
"Such design! Such… grandeur!" A man exclaimed, looking overjoyed at Sunstreaker's approach. "A true artist! Not only do you grace the world with your magnificent pieces, but you are the embodiment of perfection."
Sunstreaker liked this human. Until he continued to speak.
"And making such a statement with an asymmetrical look!"
Sunstreaker's optics narrowed. The unknowing man bounded happily toward his doom. "Hubcaps on either side! Balanced and yet, unbalanced."
Sunstreaker knew Red Alert's cameras were trained on the entrance to the Ark, so he couldn't step on the man with witnesses. Best to wait until they are alone and lacking all cameras. Then Sunstreaker could make it look accidental.
The human continued to prattle, nearing the object of his interest like some enchanting piece of art.
"Such a bold statement! It's so.. so..." His voice trailed off as he searched for the right word. Sunstreaker's optics darkened, ready to squash the human, cameras be slagged!
"Innovative!" the human cried happily, clapping his hands together.
"Innovative?" Sunstreaker asked, shocked out of his anger.
"It takes an exceptional artist to forge new ground, and to set the standard on what to expect," the man said, his eyes still gleaming as he sized up the much larger metal body. "And you have set the bar to the moon! Everyone will be scrambling to duplicate your genius, your work, and your bohemian style."
Sunstreaker's brow ridge arched in a sharp line.
"What made you chose such a bold statement?" one of the reporters asked.
"It wasn't my intention to set a new trend," Sunstreaker said, his expression betraying his words. "But I have a fellow Autobot who is infatuated with me. He worships the ground I walk on. Always wants to be close by. Offers to do everything for me. Follows me around like a lost puppy."
The reporters hastily scribbled this information down. Their pens made light scratching noises as they tried to keep up.
"If he is away from me, he becomes depressed and anxious," Sunstreaker offered a saddened look. "Such things are not healthy, so I give him one of my hubcaps to keep close by. That way, he'll always have a part of me nearby. To give him comfort and keep him happy."
The humans offered sympathetic looks. Such devotion and sacrifice. It was an endearing quality.
The rest of the interview went by in a breeze, Sunstreaker graciously allowing the humans to pose with him. It was late afternoon by the time everyone left. Sunstreaker returned to his studio and engrossed himself in his art, inspired by a new direction.
At first, no one noticed the difference. But by the end of the week, bots started to realize that the humans were preening themselves differently. Much to everyone's surprise, Blaster reported the news and fashion circuit were abuzz with asymmetrical designs. Humans were even cutting their hair crooked, making one side shorter than the other in various styles. Such things normally wouldn't have garnered a second thought from the robotic aliens, until it was also mentioned that the look was inspired by Sunstreaker.
Stunned, Sunstreaker could only blink, overwhelmed by the praise from Carly, who sported a lopsided bob, the right side shorter and swept back from her face. Everyone was giving Sunstreaker credit for the unorthodox, yet flattering design. Even his coming exhibit was gaining more notoriety, San Diego and Miami begging for Sunstreaker to grace them with a showing. Commercials were loaded with people wearing their uneven styles, some even taking to using forms of make up to accent certain features. Each time Sunstreaker saw something of his influence, he offered a cheeky, smug look to his comrades.
Life couldn't get any better.
The day before Sunstreaker was to leave with his art to set up and open the grand galas in each city, he stood in front of his mirror, gazing at his perfect body. Prowl had given the twins their hubcaps back the night before. Sunstreaker spent most of the twilight hours buffing and polishing himself to an indecent shine. No micron was left unbuffed. When he admired himself in the mirror, the light reflected off his armor in a celestial gold. He felt his own breathing function halt by the sheer magnificence he displayed.
Sideswipe offered a wolf whistle from where he was reclining on his own berth, a datapad held in his hand. Since his brother would be gone for a couple months with his art projects, Sideswipe was tasked with extra patrols. Which suited his fast engine just fine.
Sideswipe kept his attention on his pad, his engine humming with encouragement as he tapped away. Twice he offered a muffled snicker.
Sideswipe must have been projecting his devious thoughts, for Sunstreaker stomped across the room, his face pinched into a tight scowl, before he drew back his fist and planted it in his brother's face. Sideswipe was knocked cold before he could offer resistance. Sunstreaker huffed through his vents and exited the room to run one last check before departure early the next morning. Before leaving, he made sure to remove a hubcap from each side, and placed them on his berth. He did have a reputation to uphold, and who was he to argue with his adoring fans? As he headed to the transport vans, he sent a message to Prowl, warning him that Sideswipe would be up to no good in his absence.
Sunstreaker hoped the fragger was caught and suitably punished. Preferably in a slow, violent manner that would make him think twice about creating such friendly mayhem.
But Sunstreaker seriously doubted his brother would ever learn.
Maybe he should run him over to teach him a lesson?
Course, he would have to leave tire tracks only on one side.
