25. Disheveled
Backwards time skip - Altihex, Cybertron
He doesn't know how long it takes until he stops seeing moving targets and sees the actual mechs. A while. He knows that much. He was never good at keeping track of things. That was always Sideswipe's job, and without him…
He's done it again.
He's standing in a wasteland. The blasted debris of their fortifications are to his right, the hollowed, pockmarked remains of some city to his left. In between the two is a swathe of carnage and he is the only one still standing. The near-dead are moaning; shrill screams somewhere behind him. The mech—he can't tell if it was a 'con or a 'bot—to his immediate right is gurgling. Even as he looks down the gurgling stops and the pumps sputter as the mech dies.
There's a ding on his left wrist guard. Another higher up and his right side feels burned. Both optics and audios are functioning but he's reading a steady drop in energon pressure. He discovers why when he looks down.
Someone has gone and put a hole in him
He can't quite process this at first. He watches the glowing pink seep out and dribble down his legs, pooling at his feet. There's some blue coolant in there, too. It's leaking fast. They must have hit a main line or something. The hole is big enough to stick his arm in and he can feel air where there shouldn't be, brushing his spark chamber.
Huh.
Something grabs his foot. He looks down. A 'bot—he can see the stupid red decal printed on the mech's helmet—has latched on with one arm. The other is a sparking stump. He's dragging himself forward, pulling his lower half along after him. Sunstreaker is surprised it hasn't snapped off; it's only connected by a cable and a few neuron wires.
The 'bot is trying to say something. Sunstreaker can pick out the words "kill you," but that's it. He's overheating bad; Sunstreaker can feel the heat from the hand holding his ankle. The Autobot looks up and his face twists into a hideous snarl, made more so by the fact that his jaw is gone.
He lets go and with a grinding hiss and a squeal of metal, his intact arm starts to transform. It's agonizing to watch. Transformation isn't supposed to occur with that much damage, but this 'bot is somehow overwriting that coding. Pieces are folding and twisting into place only to get caught up as a melted section refuses to budge. By the time he finishes, the 'bot is actually wheezing. He lifts the ugliest weapon Sunstreaker has ever seen and points it up at him.
"Die!"
He fires.
The weapon has not assembled correctly, has not been sealed off, and with the open gashes, the 'bots flammable liquids are exposed. The resulting explosion ignites them. Fire races through the mech's lines as the energon burns and within a few nano-kliks, the flames have spread throughout the 'bot's frame. He's screaming and thrashing and Sunstreaker catches a clear glimpse of his face. Optic shutters are back, features contorted in agony as fire leaks from the seams around his facial plating.
Sunstreaker kills his audio power and the battlefield falls mercifully silent.
The 'bot is engulfed now, a hideous mass of twisting metal and flame and Sunstreaker doesn't even think about it as he unsheathes his blades. He has good aim; a quick pierce through the chest and the 'bot stops moving.
All this has made his own injuries leak worse. He's getting those internal alarms again. The blue and pinks fluids have mixed together, turning into a slick, greasy rivulet of shimmering purple that is an almost exact match to the decal on his chest. He wonders if that was intentional, that color. He's never liked it.
"I told you so," Sideswipe whispers from thin air.
Where the slag has his unit gone?
"They left you. They've got no use for someone who can't obey a simple order."
He can't see any sign of them; no weapons fire detected. The sky is dark—no bombing runs. He tries his comms but either that glitch, Soundwave, has them all operating under a blackout again or they've been fragged, too.
"What are you going to do, Sunshine?"
He thinks they went east. His last clear memory is of his battalion commander shouting for them to hold out, wait for reinforcements, not to engage. But then the Autobots broke through the line and some big green 'bot was right there and then… and then…
And then he was here.
"You probably killed them," Sideswipe says.
It's true. There aren't just Autobots lying on that field; a few of the Decepticon frames bear his distinctive 'launcher burns.
Sunstreaker starts walking east.
"You know, Sunshine, I don't know what we'll do about this. You and I both know that this isn't the first time. Megatron does not suffer fools. Or traitors. We keep scrapping our own comrades and he's gonna do something about it."
He trips over something—he thinks it's a leg—and lands on his knees. His optics fizz out and for several nano-kliks he sees white. When they cycle back on it's to find Sideswipe sitting across from him, smiling.
"I wonder what they'll do to us when that time comes?"
Why is it so hard to stand back up?
"We know what Megatron does to those who disobey him."
He needs to focus. Get one foot on the ground. His joints screech a little and he realizes that he's lost a significant amount of hydraulic fluid. It's all running down his front, dripping to the ground. A black hand reaches underneath and grabs his chin, raising his head up. Sideswipe is kneeling there, beside him, face serious.
"We could stay here. Just lay down, let it stop. No one will know."
Can't.
Somewhere in there, he's fallen and now his face is pressed against the ground.
"Why?" Sideswipe says.
Can't leave you. Not you.
Sideswipe's smiling now and Sunstreaker feels fingers ghosting along his face as his own scrabble uselessly over the ground.
"You won't," his brother says. He's laying next to Sunstreaker and Sunstreaker can feel the warmth of his frame.
I know. Sunstreaker reaches out, strokes the empty space in front of him.
"Love you," he says.
Sideswipe's smile is sad. "I know."
Wah! Thank you all so much for the reviews. They make me all warm and fuzzy inside.
Three more chapters to go! o.0
Next chapter: At the Beach