The Sun Also Rises
AN: THANK YOU TO ALEXLUKE FORYOUR CONTINUED FEEDBACK AND SUPPORT! YOU ARE AWESOME!
AN2: This chapter is a little darker and gives a bit of a glimpse to the depths of the twins background. Not sure if its been done before, but here's MY take on a possible introduction of the twins into the Pits.
AN3: Warning! Chapter contains extreme violence and death. Proceed with caution!
-o-
o-o
-o-
"Get out there!" the mottled mech shouted, shoving Sunstreaker hard between the shoulders. "You get out there and put on a good show, or I'll give you to the others to play with!" His clawed hands grasped Sunstreaker's arms and squeezed, earning a pain filled keen from the golden mech. "Both of you!"
Sunstreaker nodded, venting a sigh of relief when the mech larger mech released him. He steeled himself for the upcoming confrontation and barely flinched when the doors opened to reveal a brightly lit room. Sunstreaker shuttered his optics against the harsh light and stepped out to the tumultuous roar.
He looked to the audience, guessing their numbers to be in the thousands, all screaming and chanting, betting drones hastily accepting credits and presenting microchip stubs.
A few venders hocked their goods among the crowd, several sporting lurid paint jobs so they'd stand out.
Sunstreaker stood and watched his audience, wondering how it had gotten so out of control. One day he was working at his easel, then someone knocked him out and he woke up in a strange room with no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there.
Thankfully ,someone showed up and released him from the dismal room and he was greeted by a very relieved Sideswipe. Sunstreaker had questioned his brother about the odd abduction, but Sideswipe breezed through a thin excuse about mistaken identity and problems with the local protective consortium.
Not wanting to press, Sunstreaker let it pass. In hindsight he realized how thick in the processor he had been. He should have demanded his brother tell him the truth. He should have done everything in his power to get to the bottom of the 'little misunderstanding.' He should have made his brother promise to straight up and stop his illegal activities.
He should have….. but never did.
It wasn't until later, when he'd been pulled once again from his latest masterpiece. He was beaten and striped to his protoform, left alone and hemorrhaging in a dark alley, to be found by his twin, who also bore such abuse, though not as extensive. It was during his extensive recovery period Sunstreaker was able to piece together the tangled puzzle that made up his twin.
Sideswipe rarely visited his twin during his recovery, but when he did, it was to apologize and promise it would never happen again. Sideswipe turned his business into a legitimate, legal operation, and began to flourish.
Sunstreaker healed, both body and in spirit, and returned to his art.
But Sideswipe continued to exhibit damage and became more and more paranoid. He fidgeted constantly, and always looked over his shoulder.
Then he would disappear for weeks with no explanation to where he'd been or what he did, but he always bore marks of cruelty, ranging in severity.
Sunstreaker had an inkling, but didn't press the issue. He didn't tell his brother that when he left, he had to get EM treatments for a destabilizing spark. He associated the pain with distance from his twin. He later realized it was from Sideswipe projecting his pain and causing all the strife.
When Sideswipe disappeared for an extended period, Sunstreaker returned from a treatment to find mechs twice his size waiting outside his loft. They seized him, intending on bullying him as before.
Little did they know, Sunstreaker was a cautious type.
Fearing another attack that would leave him hospitalized, Sunstreaker had downloaded several programs for self defense. He managed to take out one of his assailants, but the second had latched onto him with crushing force, slamming their bodies into the wall.
Subdued to his fate, Sunstreaker was knocked out.
And woke up in the Pit.
Heavy armored guards patrolled around a prison block housing nearly two dozen mechs and femmes. Every one bore marks of abuse and violation.
Three individuals were displayed in macabre décor, wired to the cage with arms and legs spread wide. Stripped down to their protoforms and barely functioning.
Other prisoners would dart forward, pluck a component from the victims and return to the general population, their prize hidden upon their person in case of necessity.
With a sickening realization Sunstreaker watched as another ripped a gear from the sparking mass of bodies.
They were to be slowly deactivated by their cell mates. Harvested for parts until terminated.
Sunstreaker purged on his twin. They had awoken in the cell with the huddled mass, both sporting silver collars that attested to their slave status.
It was in the darkness that Sideswipe confessed to amassing a chasm of debt at a questionable gambling establishment. Having lost all his savings, he wagered on the only thing left he had of value.
His life.
He just didn't know the dirty boss had known his split spark condition and in his wager, added his twin to the betting pool.
So now guests of a corrupt business mech, being 'trained' in numerous forms of hand to hand combat, fed barely enough rations of low grade to function, and punished with painful electric current for misbehavior, the twins were put into service entertaining a crowd.
They had been learning the fine art of brutality, beating their opponents until barely functioning, and receiving both praise and extra rations for a job well done.
Sunstreaker lost count of the days spent in the servitude of the crowd. All he knew was he had been moved to another room in the Pit, for it was undoubtedly the darkest, foulest, lowest level, evil infested hole in all of creation.
Sunstreaker was ashamed to admit it, but even he had resorted to pilfering parts from those who couldn't fend for themselves.
Some matches were easier than others, but those that took their toll on the twins frames, required replacement parts, and their new owner refused to put credits on new parts.
It was mutilate for survival or be striped of your own parts.
No middle ground.
No shades of grey.
Survival of the strongest.
Of course, Sunstreaker had an advantage. Sideswipe. Someone who took shifts recharging and watching his aft to ensure he woke up. Someone he could trust.
At least Sunstreaker still harbored some trust in his twin. It was Sideswipe's gambling that had gotten them enslaved into such despicable servitude, but if they enchanted the crowd, and heaped the credits of their unwanted owner, then he would clear Sideswipe's debts and free them.
Right?
Isn't that how it worked?
Wow the crowd, accumulate credits for your wins, and then when all debts were paid in full, you were released.
Well, Sunstreaker had always thought that's how businesses and deals worked.
After dazzling the crowds with their perfect timing and coordination, their master had deemed them 'ready.'
Sunstreaker interpreted that to mean they had one last match, by way of send off, and then after their victory, they would be granted their freedom.
The doors opened and the bright lights of the arena greeted Sunstreaker's optics. He blinked, stepping out in the harsh light, ready to fight his final battle.
He was tired of these fights. Beating the slag out of each other. Spending endless hours training. Being fed the worst sludge on the planet. Receiving less than standard medical care and given even less time to recuperate.
Sunstreaker longed to return home. Warm fuel. Cushioned berth. His art. The peace and quiet of his apartment.
Sideswipe entered the arena, blinking at the bright lights. His frame still bore the marks of the healers welder, the welds still fresh and raw.
On the opposite side of the arena, the doors opened to reveal two large mechs, both appearing to be construction models and witness to many battles, if the patchwork weld scars were any indication. They twisted their bodies and rocked their heads, swinging heavy double maces.
"Place your bets, mechs and femmes, and most honored of elite guests," the announcer bellowed over the roar of the crowd. "Remember, the victor's purse will be fifty thousand credits!"
The crowd cheered even louder.
"Who will be the last mech standing? Place your bets and you can win big credits and a chance to be berthed by the winner!"
The crowd became thunderous.
Sunstreaker flinched, his audio fins aching. He mimicked his brother, squaring off against the much heavier builds. As always, their bond was wide open allowing them to move as one fluid machine split into two deadly parts.
Sideswipe engaged his mech with fervor, leaving Sunstreaker's field of vision but not his perception. He sensed his twin's spark pulse beating as rapidly as his own.
He bellowed and charged his opponent, as was customary when putting on a good show for the crowd. Since this was his last battle, and the winner's purse was enough to cover their debt, they should be released if declared the victor.
Sunstreaker was determined to win.
He wanted to go home. To put this whole sordid mess behind him and forget about the pain, violence, and suffering he had suffered. Especially forget the coldness he felt. The emptiness that screamed in his head during the quiet hours spent in rare solitude. He should feel some sense of shame for the things he did.
But…he didn't.
There was no darkness. No remorse. No second guessing.
Sure he pined away for the comfort and halcyon of his apartment, but the memories of the terminated bots, plucked clean of their components and drained of their life fluids by their fellow slaves, didn't haunt his dreams or waking moments. If anything, he felt a sense of detachment to their suffering. Their pleas and cries. Their lifeless husks, one of which was still hanging in the main barracks being cannibalized for parts.
The regular battles and training sessions were tedious, but each time he knocked his opponent offline he felt a sense of peace. Perhaps it was the knowledge of removing a threat and winning a match, or maybe it was the thought that their 'master' would accumulate good credits to eventually free them, but Sunstreaker performed his duties without fail.
The noise and the overly bright lights were wearing thin on his nerve circuits. Not to mention, the fact he had to endure fights looking less than his usual gorgeous self, and had to train even when still healing from injury, put him in a sour disposition. He felt he could offer a better show if he had suitable recovery time and ample fuel. It was difficult to best an opponent when one was half starved and burning through what little rations they ingested.
Sunstreaker danced out of the way, ever the showman, avoiding the heavier mech's strikes and making him tire by exerting so much energy. But the evasive technique had another advantage.
Ever the artist, Sunstreaker's optic took in angles and frame type, calculating weak points. When his opponent inevitably tired, he already had a formulated plan to take the mech down, knocking him unconscious and therefore, winning the match.
By the giddiness flooding the link with his twin, Sideswipe was also wearing down his opponent. Sunstreaker couldn't check, as he had to keep on the move, darting and jumping out of the way as the huge mech swung his weapon. He'd twist, narrowly avoiding the heavy thud of the mace, and used the split second of being in close proximity to jab his enemy in the optic with the long knife Sunstreaker preferred as his weapon of choice.
In these competitions, you could maim and mutilate your opponent, but the idea was to knock him unconscious, thus winning the match.
The mech roared in anger, rearing back, clutching his leaking and useless optic.
Sunstreaker was already at a safe distance, out of reach.
As expected, the mech raised his weapon and charged, determined to make his golden opponent suffer, but Sunstreaker was too quick.
He rolled to the left, landing in a low crouch, his twin blades glistening along his forearms.
The lumbering mech struggling to remove his mace from where it impacted the place where Sunstreaker once stood. With a grind and scream of metal, he wrenched it free, squaring off with Sunstreaker.
Sunstreaker was calculating his next move when pain shot through his chest. He gasped, falling forward, clutching the armor above his spark chamber. His brother had sustained a hit. A rather bad one, judging by the pain leaking through to Sunstreaker.
So distracted by his brother's pain, Sunstreaker paused, allowing his opponent a rare chance to strike while Sunstreaker was down.
The mech raged, charging, mace held high, ready to pound Sunstreaker's helm in.
Using all his energy to focus, Sunstreaker barely dragged himself back to reality, avoiding the worst of the impact but still taking a powerful hit. The mace snapped the knife protecting Sunstreaker's forearm and gouged a deep ravine along his golden armor, exposing the circuitry below.
The mace followed through, the deflection not enough to prevent injury. The jagged corner landed by Sunstreaker's left knee, embedding itself into the pitted metal of the arena floor.
Sunstreaker hissed in pain, but instead of lingering on his injury, he used the confined space, and his pain, to fuel his counterattack. While the mech was concentrating on removing his weapon from point of impact, Sunstreaker bounded up, his remaining blade a blur of silver that glinted along the mech's shoulder, severing his actuators and hoses.
Energon and oil spilled, creating an amalgam of bright colors and contrasting darkness.
Sunstreaker thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.
Taking advantage of the mech who howled, swinging a now useless arm, Sunstreaker used the mech's own natural grooves to get a hand up. He swung up onto the mech's back, his blade performing the same deadly surgery.
Both arms going lax, the mech stumbled, teetering on the brink of consciousness as his systems registered the loss of fluids and need for immediate stasis. His optics shuttered as he fell to his knees.
Sunstreaker perched upon the mech's shoulders, his single blade held defensively. He shifted his lower half, altering his center of gravity. It was enough of a shift to cause the mech to fall forward, face planting into the arena floor, Sunstreaker riding victoriously upon his back.
The crowd was near rioting, screaming and chanting, thundering in Sunstreaker's audios loud enough to make his head vibrate. He didn't have time to soak it in though. His twin should be sharing the spotlight with him. After all, this was their last match. It had to have a grand finale.
Sideswipe was fairing far worse than what Sunstreaker realized.
One leg was leaking a steady trail of oil. There was a puncture to Sideswipe's left chest plate, directly below his spark chamber. Had the blade been a little higher, the twins would be extinguished.
Sideswipe's left arm stayed tucked to his side, protecting the gaping hole that sparked when he rotated to the left.
Despite his disadvantage, Sideswipe was holding his own. He parried the mech's attacks, spending more and more energy evading confrontation than engaging in it. His tactic was working. The mech was tiring, his swings coming less frequent and with less force.
Sideswipe, always the overeager one, darted forward when he believed his opponent unbalanced.
It was a trick.
Sideswipe's blade barely grazed the mech's arm, deflecting off his heavier armor, and knocked carelessly away. Taking advantage of Sideswipe's shock, the mech dropped his mace and grasped Sideswipe, one large servo bypassing Sideswipe's protective arm to sink into the gash at his side.
Sideswipe screamed, beating helplessly upon the much stronger mech, who used his advantage to further render Sideswipe's armor, exposing his internals.
Sunstreaker was screaming too, racing for his twin as he saw the mech wrist deep in his brother's chest.
There was no thought.
There was no hesitation.
Nothing else in the world except Sideswipe and Sunstreaker's desperation to reach his twin.
Time slowed down.
Sideswipe's side sparked, energon gushed, staining the ground below.
Feebly, he struck the mech in the face with his knife. It raked across the pale yellow optic with a screech, giving Sideswipe the short respite. The mech dropped him, clutching at his face. Sideswipe landed awkwardly, his left arm bracing across the giant hole now puncturing his chest. He remained still, knowing his help was coming.
In the form of a golden comet of retribution and hellfire.
Sunstreaker launched himself at the unsuspecting mech, landing on his back, his blade buried in the mech's neck, severing his shoulder joint.
With a mighty wrench, Sunstreaker removed the mech's right arm, energon spurting wildly. He fell to his knees, wavering as his systems struggled to maintain proper pressure in his fuel line. He didn't last long.
Sunstreaker's fist connected with his face, sending the mech into stasis.
The crowd roared and screamed in victory. Some waved wildly, having just won their bets. Others slumped in seats, clearly the losers of the match.
Sunstreaker didn't pay attention to their chants. Their words fell on deaf audios. The only thing that mattered was Sideswipe.
Sunstreaker cradled his twin, checking over his busted chest and finding sparking wires, spilling energon, and oozing oil. His spark chamber was undamaged, thank Primus, but Sideswipe's injuries were severe enough to send him into stasis.
He offered a thrum of affection and gratitude before his optics went offline and he fell limp in his brother's arms.
Sunstreaker glanced around the arena, waiting for the doors to open and admit the medics.
But they remained closed.
It was then Sunstreaker finally heard and understood the chant of the crowd.
"Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate!"
Reality hit Sunstreaker as a sun going supernova.
This wasn't a regular match where one fought until they knocked their opponent unconscious. Where once a mech was down, the medics rushed out and attended to injuries, none of which were fatal.
But the gaping hole in Sideswipe's chest…. The viciousness of the other mechs… The obvious intent to do more than just beat into oblivion.
This was termination.
A death match!
Sunstreaker and his brother weren't fighting their final battle. They weren't earning a huge purse that would grant them their freedom.
This was a death match. Where bots fought to termination for the amusement of the arena.
Sunstreaker and his brother had won every single fight they had entered and since they were proven winners, they were thrown into the ultimate arena. A fight to end all others.
Literally.
Sunstreaker held his brother lax, his optics sweeping the riotous crowd, seeing their faces, hearing their screams, their chants, their abject jubilation of his performance. Old bots, young bots, all colors, all frame types, rusty lower class bots and even some of the more prestigious bots of the Senate and Towers were all mingled together with a common purpose.
To decide the fate of the losers.
Sunstreaker stared at his brother's inert form. His twin still lived, but his energon stained Sunstreaker's artistically tapered fingers.
"Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate!"
On and on they chanted, their voices filling Sunstreaker's audios, pounding and vibrating in his head.
A groan to his left caught his attention. The mech who had tried to kill Sideswipe. He was coming back online, his systems stabilizing and making him a renewed threat. He rolled and flopped, drawing up to his knees and one good hand.
Sunstreaker froze, staring at the mountainous mech as he gazed blearily around.
Sideswipe was still in stasis. He would be an easy target if the mech decided to continue the fight.
"Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate!"
The mech's good optic located Sunstreaker, zeroing in on his shiny golden armor amongst the dinginess of steel around them. He bared his denta, a spark issuing from his damaged optical socket. His mace was several paces away.
Sunstreaker watched with bated breathing function, waiting for the mech's decision.
The crowd continued to echo in Sunstreaker's audios, causing his vision to blur, his CPU to pound, his spark to vibrate harshly in its chamber.
"Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate!"
The mech picked up his mace and rose to his pedes, death gleaming in his good optic.
Sunstreaker carefully placed Sideswipe's broken frame on the ground and picked up his blade and his brother's discarded blade. Slowly, he rose, standing between his brother and the mech intent upon ending their sparks.
The mech hefted his mace.
Sunstreaker didn't wait for him to attack.
As a golden bullet he shot forward, juking left and right, confusing the slightly disoriented mech, his one good optic having difficulty in tracking Sunstreaker's movements.
Without mercy, Sunstreaker's blades sung.
The mech's hand was severed at the wrist, dropping his mace to the ground. Next, his other optic was slashed. As he stumbled backward, Sunstreaker delivered a series of slashes to the mech's transformation seam along his chest, loosening the chest armor. He batted at Sunstreaker with his stump of an arm, but it was no good.
"Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate!"
Sunstreaker was possessed. He was putting an end to the threat. Once the mech was down, the medics would come in and assist Sideswipe.
"Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate!"
That's all that mattered.
"Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate!"
The mech fell to his knees, his sightless optics never seeing the death blow.
Sunstreaker stood over his opponent, his blades slipped down into the mech's shoulders with surprising ease. With a twist, the mech's armor popped free, exposing his vulnerable protoform.
"Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate!"
Sunstreaker showed no mercy.
His blades entered the mech's spark chamber.
With a gasp, the light flickered and went dark. The mech's empty shell swayed a moment before falling limply, his energon spilling upon the grey floor.
Threat removed, Sunstreaker focused upon the other mech, the one whom he had originally been battling. The mech was slowly regaining his feet.
"Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate! Ter-min-ate!"
Sunstreaker didn't give him a chance to pick up his weapon.
He sailed across the arena, a brilliant streak of deadly gold, his blades glittering white, proceeding his fury. With the force of his namesake, Sunstreaker buried both his blades in the mech's chest.
The metal was difficult to rent, but the blades sank nearly to the hilt, puncturing the mech's spark chamber and extinguishing his spark.
His cumbersome body teetered, then fell motionless upon the ground.
Sunstreaker stood victorious.
The screams of the crowd fell away.
He no longer heard their voices.
He could only hear the silence.
o-o
-o-
o-o
Well, I told ya it was gonna be dark.
Feedback greatly loved… hint hint…
