Under the Sun Light
AN: So sorry for the delay. Trying to get caught up on all my projects! THANK YOU TO ALL WHO SEND MESSAGES OR LEAVE REVIEWS! Too many to name, but hopefully I didn't miss anyone in my responses.
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Sunstreaker admired his art critically. It was perfect. At least, he thought so. The colors were exactly the right hue. The scene as if captured in a memory file. Every detail was precise.
Not that Sunstreaker offered anything less than perfection.
The auction house had been quite thrilled to be given the chance to auction Sunstreaker's latest paintings.
Sunstreaker occasionally sculpted, as it was his original medium of choice, but as dissention grew amongst the populace, and subtle talk of impending war, the finer metals he employed had become scarce.
But the paints he now utilized offered a much better perspective. The colors were more pleasing to his optic.
Sunstreaker's art was saved for last, an agreed term with the auctioneer. The auction had been going on all day, with most of the pieces going for respectable prices. However, the more discerning pallets were awaiting the masterpieces.
Sunstreaker's own work, which was now vastly limited.
With his exclusivity came the ever circulating rumors.
Some believed he kept his pieces minimal to increase demand and inflate the price. Others conjectured it was due to available materials. And there were a few that speculated Sunstreaker had some sort of illness that interfered with his creativity.
Hence, why he did so much traveling. Course, with his reputation, most transports felt honored to have him use their service, and offered discount or free fares, which he utilized to the fullest. He had spent so much time traveling, it was a wonder he had any pieces to offer for the pavilion exhibition.
Those who noticed his travel schedule also commented on Sunstreaker visiting the healing centers, no doubt using his fame and influence to bring attention to the lower caste of Cybertron. Each of his visits was punctuated by a large gala, where everyone of importance attended, and Sunstreaker presented hefty credits to the healing center.
Whispers followed the golden mech. Many speculating Sunstreaker's philanthropic endeavors were more for political sway, hoping to gain enough stardom to lock in a position of political power. Like most in the ruling counsel, senate, and sub divisionary governors, they all had become noteworthy and wealthy, hence their political seats.
This was why corruption was so rampant in the houses of old. Where justice was stagnated and the lower caste ignored in favor of full tanks and frivolously expensive, lavish lifestyles.
But after all his travels, Sunstreaker had publicly announced he intended on joining the parade of artists in Iacon.
Every year, the up and coming shared the spotlight with seasoned artists, showcasing their work and auctioning it off to the highest bidder. If one were lucky enough, they could earn enough credits in the single day to last them until the next year.
Sunstreaker hadn't volunteered pieces in at least a century, so when he announced a special collection to be auctioned off, even the tower brats came down to the mid levels to rub elbows with the proverbial peasants.
Finally convinced his work was absolutely perfect, Sunstreaker nodded to two porter bots. They bowed low to Sunstreaker, and with carefully gloved servos, lifted the first painting and carried it to the auction room to be presented. They placed it on a pedestal on the stage, and the auctioneer began the bid.
Sunstreaker wasn't paying attention to the bids though. He was busy scanning the crowd.
Tens of thousands of bots were present.
The other artists who had their works auctioned earlier had stuck around to view a true legendary maestro. Those who couldn't afford the works were also watching in abject awe and admiration.
The elite few, a couple dozen at best, where in a heated biding war.
Sunstreaker spotted his twin on the opposite side. Sideswipe was monitoring the preceding with a tenty optic, making sure no one decided to cause trouble. The reason for his heightened state of alertness was sitting in the front row.
Elita One was flanked by security guards. There were also guards stationed throughout the audience. One couldn't miss the black plated frames and massive doorwings. Praxians took security very seriously. Especially when it concerned the sparkmate of the new Prime.
Sunstreaker knew Sideswipe was also guarding the femme. Not only did he respect the new Prime, but he had a bit of a crush on Elita One. If Sideswipe detected any flicker of animosity toward her, he'd eliminate the threat, one way or another.
The auctioneer ended the first bid, the room erupted with applause.
Sunstreaker smirked at the extremely high credit balance.
Several bots cheered for Elita One, congratulating her on her hard fought biding war. She blushed and waved to the crowd.
The next piece arrived and the chaos started again.
Once more Elita One was victorious. Several tower brats threw dirty looks to the small pink femme but wisely maintained their civility.
Sunstreaker's third and final piece arrived. A collective sigh rolled through the crowd as the light glinted off the paint and captured every single spark with it's beauty and purity upon the canvas.
Elita One, emboldened by her wins, started the bidding high, eliminating the ones who generated low bids until the numbers became serious.
Two mechs countered her offer.
Confidently, she bid again.
They matched her with fervor.
Not one to be outdone, she demurely raised her bid, exuding confidence and sophistication.
Sunstreaker thought she appeared as stately as any of the original thirteen. Prime had chosen well.
One mech dropped out, shaking his helm in frustration. The other mech wasn't so easily deterred. He upped the bet by half a million credits, giving Elita a smirk of self satisfaction.
She regarded him coolly and matched his price, adding another half million and a triumphant glare when he bowed out of the bidding, clearly realizing it was a losing battle. Elita One was determined to own all of Sunstreaker's art, and no one was foolish enough to offer much of a challenge to the Prime's sparkmate.
With the final call, Elita had won the third and final piece.
The crowd roared and she, being gracious and loved by the population, accepted personal congratulations as she was escorted to her transport, her purchases being packed for shipping.
Sunstreaker followed at a safe distance, and only when confronted with a wide expanse of black doorwing did he call to Elita One, thanking her for her generosity.
She sidestepped her protectors, causing their doorwings to hike in alert as she approached the golden mech and exchange Cybertronian greetings.
Her words were cut short when one of the security Praxians called that the transport was ready and the Prime's mate needed to board immediately. She gave Sunstreaker a spark felt farewell and boarded the transport, disappearing into the ashen sky, her prized collected tucked safely into the cargo hold.
Sunstreaker met up with his brother and took their own transport home, Sunstreaker taking a long deserved break.
On the other side of Iacon in the Prime's personal spire, Elita One met her bondmate.
"I take it all went well?" Prime asked, sending a thrum of affection along the bond he shared with the petite femme.
"I've purchased several pieces, but the important ones are being unloaded now."
Prime nodded, escorting his mate into the lower chambers where a black and white Praxian was speaking with the security forces. A smaller mech, also black and white in color and sporting a visor, was leaning against the wall, tapping his pede to the music he was listening to over a personal airwave.
"Nothing to report," Prowl said, falling into step with the leader and reaching out to snag Jazz along the way.
The three mechs and femme entered a large command hub filled with bots flitting back and forth. There were secured codes being deciphered on a computer terminal. Supplies being inventoried. Holographic displays of potential hot spots for dissention. Secured lines being established to offworld colonies.
Exactly what one would find in a military command center.
Sunstreaker's paintings, strangely enough, were being placed on easels next to a large holographic, topographical map of Cybertron. They brought a sense of beauty and color to an otherwise subfusc commander center.
When the commander staff were in position, Prime held up a specialized light, shining it on the art.
And the pictures faded away.
Instead of finely crafted paintings, there were detailed descriptions written in tiny Cybertronian code on two of the canvases.
Jazz and Prowl closely examined the words, Prowl's doorwings flickering as he read the detailed list of observed supplies, meeting locations, associated bots, key mechs in government placement for an attempted coup d'etat, and several possible aliases.
A list of politicians and their unseemly camaraderie with underworld kingpins, and a meticulous description of habits and possible availability to weapons. There were also schematics of transports, many of which were not registered with the global database.
Every city-state of importance, whether by metropolis size or strategic location, was written in Sunstreaker's tidy scrawl, sectioned according to location and level of perceived threat by the artist-turned-spy.
The third painting held maps of strongholds and possible depots for supplies and barracks for dissidents. At least a dozen locations, with geological markers for pinpoint accuracy, displayed the intricate layout of buildings with Sunstreaker's scrupulous notes on his observation.
Being an artist, he had a particular skill of seeing a building in three dimensions, and knowing if and where something was off. It was uncanny how he could detect secret rooms and hidden panels.
All of which were noted upon the paintings he had hidden his intel for the Prime.
Prime took a deep inhale through his vents, scanning over the vast data composed upon the innocent painting by his secret asset.
"Let's get to work. We have a war to plan for."
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Don't know if this has been done before, but I thought it was a cool idea. Besides, anything I can do to get the twins out of the brig or med bay, and sober, is a huge PLUS!
Feedback appreciated!
THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT AND MESSAGES OF ENCOURAGEMENT.
