Flashback - Before the War - Closed
Nov 13, 2011 21:13:54 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Nov 13, 2011 21:13:54 GMT -5
Kaon - Gladiator Rings
Sunsteaker was still alive and so was he – another thing to be thankful for was Sideswipe’s estimation. The gladiator ring was still hot with the engine heat of the crowd and the spray of energon fresh from ruined systems – going rapidly cold now on the dirty alloy floor. He’d watched his brother do the deed – deadly and devastating – his twin rip the mainline out of a mech with his bare hands and tear into what remained, gutting tubes and lines from his throat like he was mining for energon in the innards of that mech’s intake valves. Sunny rose off that corpse filthy with energon, slicked and soaked with it, shining and catching blue and igniting gold across his beautiful frame while the crowd screamed in lust for him – blood lust or otherwise was not a nuance Sideswipe was prepared to discern.
He was waiting for his brother to get back from the washracks.
Sideswipe fielded the usual fans and patron offers, pre-program mechs asking dully if he would listen to the proposal from his Tower-master that he represented – prices, prices, prices – and negotiate the sale of his fragging twin. Sides enjoyed how completely they were misunderstood by the mechs who wanted to own them and politely told then to buzz off and/or take it up the tailpipe. This thrilled the other Kaon-locals. Jeers and chirps followed the rejected pre-programs right out of the structure. Things had quieted now and Sideswipe stood alone, leaning against a wall just inside the main entry, blue optics on the ceiling, contemplating that last fight. He moved his arms and still felt the rhythm of it in his hydraulic lines. In his chest was the pulse and wane, that calm that made the grit and dread of each match worth it.
Sunny was happy. They were happy.
He committed it to memory and smiled up. This is probably why he didn’t note the other mech’s approach.
Megatronus moved to stand alongside the comparatively small mech in the small passageway without so much as rubbing EMFs with anyone, a clear space afforded to him by default now. The entirety of his right arm was bolted to a support frame, equipped with its own motors and connected to his own neural lines and engines to give him full function of the limb. It was an expensive repair job, and it had been wholly Soundwave’s decision as his patron to repair his mangled and, at the time, removed arm rather than to replace it. He’d explained it as coming down to ‘integrity’, though whether his patron had meant of his physical body or of some wider metaphorical integrity, Megatronus did not know.
The degree of damage his last match had dealt him had put the gladiator out of commission for a period, and as the damage from his shoulder extended into his chassis, even training had to be restricted. An advantage of his time out of the arena for recovery was that Megatronus had been able to watch matches within the lower power tiers. Assessing his rivals in his own tier was a standard part of his time, but he was pleased now to have the opportunity to view combatants he likely would never face on the energon-stained field. This pair of spark brothers, particularly. Discussion of their bizarre engagement came up in conversation in the yards quite frequently.
Standing next to one of the spark-twins now, Megatronus fixed his optics ahead on the activity outside as he spoke. He genuinely wished to converse with the young mech, not intimidate him. “Sunstreaker fought well today.”
“Sunstreaker always fights –” Sideswipe started to say… then realized who the slag was speaking to him. He jerked, straightening up instinctively, EMF flashing with shock, a trace of undisguised delight but mostly the shock. The red and black mech stood to fully face the gladiator, radiating longwave awe and confusion off every inch of his Tower-tech frame. “Megatronus.”
Sideswipe said it with a complex grammatical mix of sub-sonics, both respectful and intrigued, but wary and with reason. Nephrite blue optics flickered, staring up at the massive warrior and he marveled at the sheer slagging size of him, the roll of his EMF so strong he could push mechs out the door with it for pure presence. He wondered where Sunstreaker was. His brother would flip his processor for a chance to talk with the mech that inspired him to take his rage to the gladiator ring. Part of Sideswipe wanted to resent the gladiator for that… but it was hard when he was still humming with Sunstreaker’s after-battle calm.
Winning his brother reprieves of sanity, whatever the means, was a good thing.
“Sunstreaker would kill to hear you say that.” A pause. “Well, I guess he did kill today. But you know…”
Megatronus smiled thinly. “Likely I’ll still be here when he returns from the ‘racks. It’s rare now that I can speak to the lower tier gladiators, and I’ve been interested in meeting you and your brother for some time. Your situation is... uncommon.”
“You… know about us?”
Sideswipe had to fight the flicker of pleasure that sparked through him at the idea though. Sunstreaker had been fighting in the Tier 3 match ups for a while now and become such a contender that he was attracting attention for Tower-mech patronage… which only delighted him to the extent that he got to watch Sideswipe eloquently and impolitely tell them what pipe to cram it up because The Twins didn’t take any patronage. They handled their own repairs, looked out for themselves and didn’t need some rich bot sponsoring their brutality.
Since Sideswipe had starting fighting the co-op matches with his brother – bringing his electric brand of killer mischief into the show – the offers had begun to get more serious. Didn’t matter. It was the principle and there was kind of sick fascination, the crowd watching and waiting for them to finally bite it so hard that they would regret rejecting that insurance… but it hadn’t happened yet. Even Megatronus had a patron, but the Twins refused. Sides wondered nervously if that was… offensive to him an anyway.
An affirmative rumble and Megatronus finally looked down at Sideswipe, crimson optics bright and calculating in the dim space. “I’ve seen fighters refuse sponsorship before, but not for so long nor so vociferously. Sponsors are not purely financial backers. We’re a business to them, and will negotiate for better and more high-profile matches to see a better return.” His optics narrowed a micron, more a tightening of the micro-plates than any deliberate expression. “I trust that you are not one of those who connects pride and worth with independence in this world.”
“‘fraid I am,” said Sideswipe calmly, a flicker of undefinable something moving through his perfect blue optics. He lifted his chin a little. “We’re not designed like you and there ain’t a mech I’ve seen offer me anything I wanted to take for what it would cost. We’ve been to your rallies, heard you talk, but I hear what they say in the Tower too and I haven’t met anyone from that side of Cybertron I’d want at my back, much less with their name on my contract.” He tilted his head, EMF darkening a little with a resigned cynicism. “Not every patron’s a Soundwave.”
“Soundwave is a patron of my cause, not of my time in the arena,” Megatronus corrected smoothly, impressed by the young mech’s forthright opinions in the same wave as he was mildly irritated by the little upstart. “Furthermore, there are many fighters here who have not had the good fortune to turn down a patron. Pride and survival seldom coexist harmoniously. When I was syndicate-owned, there was a particular means to survive that would have been unbearable if I thought in such black and white terms. I fight now for individual worth, for all our caste, but it has been necessary to sacrifice my own pride enough to survive to reach this point.”
Sideswipe suspected that he was supposed to shut up, but that had never been his strong suit. “Not disagreeing with you. Honest. It’s just me’n Sunstreaker we... well we decided this is how we’re gonna do it.” The smaller mech made a kind of hapless gesture, as though that were an inevitable out come of being a brother with anyone - deciding stupid kind of suicidal crazy thing then following through on it. “I’m not saying it makes sense, but it sure makes me smile every time I get to tell some Tower slag-head off.” And thought he didn’t say it: And it keeps my brother sane. He shrugged, feigning dumb innocence. “It’s the little things.”
Megatronus made a low, thoughtful sound, communicating as much through the warm movement of air as through body language. Sideswipe seemed to be naive about his and Sunstreaker’s rebellious position in the gladitorial world - that their bold and gleeful refusal of patronage was going to rankle a lot of fighters for whom freedom and independence were simply not possible. That entrapment of the low caste by the Towers was one of the very things Megatronus was building a campaign against; the legality of owning another Cybertronian so fully that they could be ordered to death on a financial whim symptomatic of a far wider corruption in their society.
He’d been unsponsored when he’d started, going into matches with a very sincere death wish but finding that he would not lose to anyone he could not, somehow, defeat. D-16 had been a fast learner, and had raised his profile quickly. Others were paying attention to him, listening, following - and suddenly the fights were about more than just finding a warrior good enough to kill him. He’d used the syndicate sponsorship to further this larger cause, taking more than a small amount of pleasure in the knowledge that the Tower mechs, so consumed by the fame and fortune he was bringing in to them, were unwittingly financing their own downfall.
Shifting out of his repreive, and noting that Sideswipe’s systems had warmed during the long moments of silence, Megatronus looked over the mech’s modifications as if he weren’t already fully aware of the specs. “How are you both sustaining yourselves?”
“The match ups help,” said Sideswipe with a shrug, intent on appearing casual when he was in fact somewhat anxious about the other gladiator scrutinizing the admittedly unstable nature of their arrangement. He was not unaware that they took some serious financial hits by refusing patronage but those were hits Sunstreaker was willing to take and Sideswipe confessed to a fervent philosophy of autonomy wherever he could grab it. He needed it like Sunny needed the energon-soaked rush and crush of the ring and since Sunny just didn’t lose betting on themselves was an easy gamble… it wasn’t like they’d feel the loss of the money if they lost a match.
“But I make the majority of my income doing sidejobs and trade and Sunny’s got ventures too. Then the co-op matchs aren’t as common as the solos, but they pay out more and Streaker and I can’t lose together.” The young gladiator’s EMF shifted a little, though his weight did not. “We take jobs Tower-side. High-end.”
A laugh and he broke into sudden High Autobot, perfect, complex and cultured despite the mocking sub-sonic. “And when we put on airs, there is not a single appreciable difference between us and a Tower mech. We are so respectable it hurts.” He dropped back to south-Kaon slang. Another shrug. “Me’n Streaker get by just fine. Ya wanna look at it any particular way, I’m a part-time gladiator. ‘M only in the ring when I gotta be, rest of the time I’ve got clients I run things for. S’not too tough.”
“I don’t wholly understand spark-twins,” Megatronus admitted after a pause, his field smoothing out with the frank solidity of a mountainside in the face of Sideswipe’s spiculiums of nervousness. “But I know enough to see that you’re taking a larger gamble than most in these matches - particularly when neither of you have to be here. Sunstreaker’s lust for death is quite something.”
Sideswipe’s systems heated a little at that, a mild blip of something like hostility jumping into his field. But the commentary on the spark-twinning made him a little nervous. Most mechs assumed it was a gimmick or that they were gestalt brothers... not actually twins. He wasn’t sure he liked Megatronus pinpointing the fact Sideswipe put himself in harm’s way to let his brother fight. “Yeah, Sunsteaker is good at this. S’why the risk ain’t that bad.” A pause, then a little puzzled, “That why you’re here? You wanted to talk to Sunstreaker?”
“To you both,” the large mech replied, flexing his hand inside the support frame to stretch the new, tight lines. “You attend the rallies for genuine reasons, and are both viciously competent fighters. I will have need of mecha like you in the near future, if you were interested?”
Sideswipes optics widened, genuine surprise moving through his EMF. “You want -?” A beat, and something rearranged in Sideswipe’s head, snapping into an appropriate configuration. He tilted his head. “You need fighters?” Intrigue in his voice now and he sent along through his link to Sunstreaker, telling him to get out here now. “I think we’d be interested.”
“Good.” Megatronus turned and extended his hand as if to shake Sideswipe’s, the snickt of a dataport in his wrist sliding open almost unheard if they hadn’t both been intently aware of the moment. One of Soundwave’s modifications, and one he was finding more and more occasion to use. “The specifics will be decoded when you are required.” It was implied that if the existence of the data were revealed elsewere, that what Sideswipe had seen his brother do in the arena wouldn’t be comparable to what the massive gladiator would do.
Sideswipe hesitated all of the micro second it took him to decide that his brother would want to do this, would want to do something more than fight for nothing and Sideswipe wanted him to want something like that. A reason beyond keeping sane for another breem or three. The red and black mech stepped forward and took the other gladiator’s forearm in what looked to be a very business-like hold, someone saying bye or sealing a deal. The recessed data port on Side’s own under arm slid open and he okayed the data uplink. Blue optics flickered.
“I think we’ll be there,” he said. His smile was crooked as he EMF mischievous.
“I think you’ll enjoy it.” Once the databurst was completed, Megatronus spooled the short line back and absorbed the trickle of the other mech’s energy that rippled along with it into his own. “Sunstreaker, too.”
Sunstreaker had been concluding a bit of personal business when he felt the urgent pulse from his brother. Handing over what remained of the salable portion of the pharmaceutical grade tranqs Sideswipe had nabbed a couple megacycles ago, the yellow mech finished accepting the credit transfer and took his leave, dropping one of those perfect and perfectly false smiles of his. Truthfully, the freshly washed and buffed gladiator was wondering just what the slag had Sides’ gears in such a bunch.
Sauntering through the dingy corridors of the arena, Sunny headed toward his twin, catching himself with one hand against the wall as he came to a grinding halt. There stood his brother clasping forearms and talking with Megatronus of all mechanisms. Sunstreaker thought his fuel pump was going to seize right then and there. Get your scrap together mech. He isn’t going to be impressed if you act like a chirping sparkling!
A silent question was sent to Sideswipe through their bond, asking just how in the Pit this had even happened and why the slag hadn’t Sides told him sooner (an almost giddy excitement eradicating any real anger that might have been there), as the yellow bot shook himself thoroughly. Forcing joints to loosen that had clenched in what could conceivably be called a case of nerves. Sunstreaker himself wasn’t too far behind the query, and blatantly ran his optics over Megatronus as he approached, taking in the arm support, various scars and dings, and the superheavy EMF. It was as massive and strong as the bot himself. And that forearm clasp still connecting the older gladiator with his brother.
The question was obvious in every line of his frame, but Sunny wasn’t stupid enough to voice it aloud. Something was going down, and whatever it was, he wanted in. A genuine smile stretched the flexible metal of his mouth while regarding what essentially amounted to his personal hero, the role model Sunny had chosen for himself.
“Sunstreaker too, what,” he asked with a bright grin, something that had been almost non-existent prior to relocating to Kaon. “Congratulations on your last match. It was a real slagfest.”
“I’ll certainly remember it,” came the dry reply, underscored with amusement. Releasing his grip on Sideswipe, Megatronus extended his hand to Sunstreaker with a field pulse of welcome and interest. “And my congratulations to you on today’s victory. Impressive, and entertaining. You may want to try servo-scythes - discrete in themselves, but they cut a stronger gush.”
Sideswipe smiled, lifting his right arm and with a snap his own combat scythe sprang forward from the guard plating of his forearm, crackling with vicious electrical charge.
“Told’ja,” he said smugly, but at the same time, through their bond, ’He wants us as fighters for his movement. I think he’s anticipating hostile reactionaries from the Tower. He needs foot soldiers. You want this?’ An empathic pulse passed between them, a vague sense of approval but undefined apprehension. They fought for themselves, always had, clawing at the universe for survival, back to back against everything and everyone else and while Sideswipe’s spark seemed to jump at the prospect of expanding beyond that narrow universe, he couldn’t be sure… Blue optics held the question, calm and a little hopeful, trying to read that rare authenticity in his brother’s smile. ‘You believe in what he’s doing?’
And in that moment Sunstreaker couldn’t find it anywhere in his spark to be even remotely irritated with his smarmy twin. Outwardly ignoring his brother entirely, the golden mech returned the hand clasp, unabashedly basking in the interest and the congratulations, and allowing his hand to linger until the elder gladiator chose to break the grip. His entire orn, frag his entire vorn had just been made. “Yeah well, that’s half the job here: moving the crowd,” he replied, smile going slightly wider as he lifted his free hand, letting the titanium alloy blade there slide free and heat ever so slightly. “They do, but sometimes, the best tools are your own two hands.” The blade disappeared with a low hiss and a lingering scent of warm metal.
That was all outward though. Internally, Sunstreaker could hardly contain his disbelief, head swivelling to stare at his twin in mild shock, and replied only with, You don’t? The approval and barely concealed hope were enough to outweigh whatever apprehension his twin held. Sideswipe desired freedom so completely that he couldn’t bear to give away anything of himself without some kind of fight, so Sunny just wrote it off. Besides, this was a chance to work with a genuine scrap rooted hero here. This mech was going to change the world.
Megatronus could sense from Sunstreaker’s field that he was as amicable to the offer as his brother had been, though nothing had actually been said. On this level, where everyone listened from the shadows for any opportunity that would get them ahead, get them out, silent communication was an artform. Movements of air, subtle flares and flickers in fields, optical brightess - the low-tier mechs could speak just as clearly without words.
“Bare hands are viscerally satisfying,” the gladiator affirmed with an engine rumble, optics flicking to Sideswipe with a flash of approval before fixing back on Sunstreaker. He could pass the data packet on to his brother. “I think you’d enjoy the reaction when you blind a bot with their own spray, though. A thin slash gives you the range you just don’t get with pulling lines straight out through armor.”
Sideswipe offered nothing on the subject of energon spray or the prettiness of any particular gush. He just slipped to the side a little, just slightly behind his brother in a minor shadowing move that - with the two twins - had the strange effect of making it seem like they were one mech, the blend and bend of their EM fields sliding in and out of eachother’s so easily that to the sensors they were almost indistinguishable. He was smirking though, amicable to the subject of violence as any gladiator.
‘We’ll I ain’t got a bad feeling ‘bout it yet, bro. It was neutral response. His optics flickered toward his brother, him EMF giving slightly. You wanna go for it, I’d like to take it to the Towers, but it ain’t my show.
“I’ll have to give it a shot when I’m feeling a little more calculating and not out to just enjoy myself,” Sunstreaker replied amicably, optics tracking the elder gladiator’s gaze as it flicked to his twin. A cocky smile settled on the young mech’s features as he fell silent and let his EMF blend with his brother’s, letting them bend and swirl together to complete their strange spark signature. It would be interesting to find out Megatronus’ reaction to their little “disappearing” act. The resulting conflict between optics and sensors had given the twins an advantage over their opponents that they viciously and repeatedly exploited.
‘Let’s do this. We show him how far we’re willing to go, I could guarantee this mech will let us do just that. He returned Sideswipe’s gaze, his eagerness beginning to crawl through their mingled field.
“Nice trick,” Megatronus remarked of the electromagnetic illusion, scanners combing over both mechs out of combat-instinct. Something to keep in mind for the future...
“Say the word,” said Sideswipe, grinning and l propping an elbow on his brother’s shoulder, “and we’ll trick whatever mech you want us to.”
Sunsteaker was still alive and so was he – another thing to be thankful for was Sideswipe’s estimation. The gladiator ring was still hot with the engine heat of the crowd and the spray of energon fresh from ruined systems – going rapidly cold now on the dirty alloy floor. He’d watched his brother do the deed – deadly and devastating – his twin rip the mainline out of a mech with his bare hands and tear into what remained, gutting tubes and lines from his throat like he was mining for energon in the innards of that mech’s intake valves. Sunny rose off that corpse filthy with energon, slicked and soaked with it, shining and catching blue and igniting gold across his beautiful frame while the crowd screamed in lust for him – blood lust or otherwise was not a nuance Sideswipe was prepared to discern.
He was waiting for his brother to get back from the washracks.
Sideswipe fielded the usual fans and patron offers, pre-program mechs asking dully if he would listen to the proposal from his Tower-master that he represented – prices, prices, prices – and negotiate the sale of his fragging twin. Sides enjoyed how completely they were misunderstood by the mechs who wanted to own them and politely told then to buzz off and/or take it up the tailpipe. This thrilled the other Kaon-locals. Jeers and chirps followed the rejected pre-programs right out of the structure. Things had quieted now and Sideswipe stood alone, leaning against a wall just inside the main entry, blue optics on the ceiling, contemplating that last fight. He moved his arms and still felt the rhythm of it in his hydraulic lines. In his chest was the pulse and wane, that calm that made the grit and dread of each match worth it.
Sunny was happy. They were happy.
He committed it to memory and smiled up. This is probably why he didn’t note the other mech’s approach.
Megatronus moved to stand alongside the comparatively small mech in the small passageway without so much as rubbing EMFs with anyone, a clear space afforded to him by default now. The entirety of his right arm was bolted to a support frame, equipped with its own motors and connected to his own neural lines and engines to give him full function of the limb. It was an expensive repair job, and it had been wholly Soundwave’s decision as his patron to repair his mangled and, at the time, removed arm rather than to replace it. He’d explained it as coming down to ‘integrity’, though whether his patron had meant of his physical body or of some wider metaphorical integrity, Megatronus did not know.
The degree of damage his last match had dealt him had put the gladiator out of commission for a period, and as the damage from his shoulder extended into his chassis, even training had to be restricted. An advantage of his time out of the arena for recovery was that Megatronus had been able to watch matches within the lower power tiers. Assessing his rivals in his own tier was a standard part of his time, but he was pleased now to have the opportunity to view combatants he likely would never face on the energon-stained field. This pair of spark brothers, particularly. Discussion of their bizarre engagement came up in conversation in the yards quite frequently.
Standing next to one of the spark-twins now, Megatronus fixed his optics ahead on the activity outside as he spoke. He genuinely wished to converse with the young mech, not intimidate him. “Sunstreaker fought well today.”
“Sunstreaker always fights –” Sideswipe started to say… then realized who the slag was speaking to him. He jerked, straightening up instinctively, EMF flashing with shock, a trace of undisguised delight but mostly the shock. The red and black mech stood to fully face the gladiator, radiating longwave awe and confusion off every inch of his Tower-tech frame. “Megatronus.”
Sideswipe said it with a complex grammatical mix of sub-sonics, both respectful and intrigued, but wary and with reason. Nephrite blue optics flickered, staring up at the massive warrior and he marveled at the sheer slagging size of him, the roll of his EMF so strong he could push mechs out the door with it for pure presence. He wondered where Sunstreaker was. His brother would flip his processor for a chance to talk with the mech that inspired him to take his rage to the gladiator ring. Part of Sideswipe wanted to resent the gladiator for that… but it was hard when he was still humming with Sunstreaker’s after-battle calm.
Winning his brother reprieves of sanity, whatever the means, was a good thing.
“Sunstreaker would kill to hear you say that.” A pause. “Well, I guess he did kill today. But you know…”
Megatronus smiled thinly. “Likely I’ll still be here when he returns from the ‘racks. It’s rare now that I can speak to the lower tier gladiators, and I’ve been interested in meeting you and your brother for some time. Your situation is... uncommon.”
“You… know about us?”
Sideswipe had to fight the flicker of pleasure that sparked through him at the idea though. Sunstreaker had been fighting in the Tier 3 match ups for a while now and become such a contender that he was attracting attention for Tower-mech patronage… which only delighted him to the extent that he got to watch Sideswipe eloquently and impolitely tell them what pipe to cram it up because The Twins didn’t take any patronage. They handled their own repairs, looked out for themselves and didn’t need some rich bot sponsoring their brutality.
Since Sideswipe had starting fighting the co-op matches with his brother – bringing his electric brand of killer mischief into the show – the offers had begun to get more serious. Didn’t matter. It was the principle and there was kind of sick fascination, the crowd watching and waiting for them to finally bite it so hard that they would regret rejecting that insurance… but it hadn’t happened yet. Even Megatronus had a patron, but the Twins refused. Sides wondered nervously if that was… offensive to him an anyway.
An affirmative rumble and Megatronus finally looked down at Sideswipe, crimson optics bright and calculating in the dim space. “I’ve seen fighters refuse sponsorship before, but not for so long nor so vociferously. Sponsors are not purely financial backers. We’re a business to them, and will negotiate for better and more high-profile matches to see a better return.” His optics narrowed a micron, more a tightening of the micro-plates than any deliberate expression. “I trust that you are not one of those who connects pride and worth with independence in this world.”
“‘fraid I am,” said Sideswipe calmly, a flicker of undefinable something moving through his perfect blue optics. He lifted his chin a little. “We’re not designed like you and there ain’t a mech I’ve seen offer me anything I wanted to take for what it would cost. We’ve been to your rallies, heard you talk, but I hear what they say in the Tower too and I haven’t met anyone from that side of Cybertron I’d want at my back, much less with their name on my contract.” He tilted his head, EMF darkening a little with a resigned cynicism. “Not every patron’s a Soundwave.”
“Soundwave is a patron of my cause, not of my time in the arena,” Megatronus corrected smoothly, impressed by the young mech’s forthright opinions in the same wave as he was mildly irritated by the little upstart. “Furthermore, there are many fighters here who have not had the good fortune to turn down a patron. Pride and survival seldom coexist harmoniously. When I was syndicate-owned, there was a particular means to survive that would have been unbearable if I thought in such black and white terms. I fight now for individual worth, for all our caste, but it has been necessary to sacrifice my own pride enough to survive to reach this point.”
Sideswipe suspected that he was supposed to shut up, but that had never been his strong suit. “Not disagreeing with you. Honest. It’s just me’n Sunstreaker we... well we decided this is how we’re gonna do it.” The smaller mech made a kind of hapless gesture, as though that were an inevitable out come of being a brother with anyone - deciding stupid kind of suicidal crazy thing then following through on it. “I’m not saying it makes sense, but it sure makes me smile every time I get to tell some Tower slag-head off.” And thought he didn’t say it: And it keeps my brother sane. He shrugged, feigning dumb innocence. “It’s the little things.”
Megatronus made a low, thoughtful sound, communicating as much through the warm movement of air as through body language. Sideswipe seemed to be naive about his and Sunstreaker’s rebellious position in the gladitorial world - that their bold and gleeful refusal of patronage was going to rankle a lot of fighters for whom freedom and independence were simply not possible. That entrapment of the low caste by the Towers was one of the very things Megatronus was building a campaign against; the legality of owning another Cybertronian so fully that they could be ordered to death on a financial whim symptomatic of a far wider corruption in their society.
He’d been unsponsored when he’d started, going into matches with a very sincere death wish but finding that he would not lose to anyone he could not, somehow, defeat. D-16 had been a fast learner, and had raised his profile quickly. Others were paying attention to him, listening, following - and suddenly the fights were about more than just finding a warrior good enough to kill him. He’d used the syndicate sponsorship to further this larger cause, taking more than a small amount of pleasure in the knowledge that the Tower mechs, so consumed by the fame and fortune he was bringing in to them, were unwittingly financing their own downfall.
Shifting out of his repreive, and noting that Sideswipe’s systems had warmed during the long moments of silence, Megatronus looked over the mech’s modifications as if he weren’t already fully aware of the specs. “How are you both sustaining yourselves?”
“The match ups help,” said Sideswipe with a shrug, intent on appearing casual when he was in fact somewhat anxious about the other gladiator scrutinizing the admittedly unstable nature of their arrangement. He was not unaware that they took some serious financial hits by refusing patronage but those were hits Sunstreaker was willing to take and Sideswipe confessed to a fervent philosophy of autonomy wherever he could grab it. He needed it like Sunny needed the energon-soaked rush and crush of the ring and since Sunny just didn’t lose betting on themselves was an easy gamble… it wasn’t like they’d feel the loss of the money if they lost a match.
“But I make the majority of my income doing sidejobs and trade and Sunny’s got ventures too. Then the co-op matchs aren’t as common as the solos, but they pay out more and Streaker and I can’t lose together.” The young gladiator’s EMF shifted a little, though his weight did not. “We take jobs Tower-side. High-end.”
A laugh and he broke into sudden High Autobot, perfect, complex and cultured despite the mocking sub-sonic. “And when we put on airs, there is not a single appreciable difference between us and a Tower mech. We are so respectable it hurts.” He dropped back to south-Kaon slang. Another shrug. “Me’n Streaker get by just fine. Ya wanna look at it any particular way, I’m a part-time gladiator. ‘M only in the ring when I gotta be, rest of the time I’ve got clients I run things for. S’not too tough.”
“I don’t wholly understand spark-twins,” Megatronus admitted after a pause, his field smoothing out with the frank solidity of a mountainside in the face of Sideswipe’s spiculiums of nervousness. “But I know enough to see that you’re taking a larger gamble than most in these matches - particularly when neither of you have to be here. Sunstreaker’s lust for death is quite something.”
Sideswipe’s systems heated a little at that, a mild blip of something like hostility jumping into his field. But the commentary on the spark-twinning made him a little nervous. Most mechs assumed it was a gimmick or that they were gestalt brothers... not actually twins. He wasn’t sure he liked Megatronus pinpointing the fact Sideswipe put himself in harm’s way to let his brother fight. “Yeah, Sunsteaker is good at this. S’why the risk ain’t that bad.” A pause, then a little puzzled, “That why you’re here? You wanted to talk to Sunstreaker?”
“To you both,” the large mech replied, flexing his hand inside the support frame to stretch the new, tight lines. “You attend the rallies for genuine reasons, and are both viciously competent fighters. I will have need of mecha like you in the near future, if you were interested?”
Sideswipes optics widened, genuine surprise moving through his EMF. “You want -?” A beat, and something rearranged in Sideswipe’s head, snapping into an appropriate configuration. He tilted his head. “You need fighters?” Intrigue in his voice now and he sent along through his link to Sunstreaker, telling him to get out here now. “I think we’d be interested.”
“Good.” Megatronus turned and extended his hand as if to shake Sideswipe’s, the snickt of a dataport in his wrist sliding open almost unheard if they hadn’t both been intently aware of the moment. One of Soundwave’s modifications, and one he was finding more and more occasion to use. “The specifics will be decoded when you are required.” It was implied that if the existence of the data were revealed elsewere, that what Sideswipe had seen his brother do in the arena wouldn’t be comparable to what the massive gladiator would do.
Sideswipe hesitated all of the micro second it took him to decide that his brother would want to do this, would want to do something more than fight for nothing and Sideswipe wanted him to want something like that. A reason beyond keeping sane for another breem or three. The red and black mech stepped forward and took the other gladiator’s forearm in what looked to be a very business-like hold, someone saying bye or sealing a deal. The recessed data port on Side’s own under arm slid open and he okayed the data uplink. Blue optics flickered.
“I think we’ll be there,” he said. His smile was crooked as he EMF mischievous.
“I think you’ll enjoy it.” Once the databurst was completed, Megatronus spooled the short line back and absorbed the trickle of the other mech’s energy that rippled along with it into his own. “Sunstreaker, too.”
Sunstreaker had been concluding a bit of personal business when he felt the urgent pulse from his brother. Handing over what remained of the salable portion of the pharmaceutical grade tranqs Sideswipe had nabbed a couple megacycles ago, the yellow mech finished accepting the credit transfer and took his leave, dropping one of those perfect and perfectly false smiles of his. Truthfully, the freshly washed and buffed gladiator was wondering just what the slag had Sides’ gears in such a bunch.
Sauntering through the dingy corridors of the arena, Sunny headed toward his twin, catching himself with one hand against the wall as he came to a grinding halt. There stood his brother clasping forearms and talking with Megatronus of all mechanisms. Sunstreaker thought his fuel pump was going to seize right then and there. Get your scrap together mech. He isn’t going to be impressed if you act like a chirping sparkling!
A silent question was sent to Sideswipe through their bond, asking just how in the Pit this had even happened and why the slag hadn’t Sides told him sooner (an almost giddy excitement eradicating any real anger that might have been there), as the yellow bot shook himself thoroughly. Forcing joints to loosen that had clenched in what could conceivably be called a case of nerves. Sunstreaker himself wasn’t too far behind the query, and blatantly ran his optics over Megatronus as he approached, taking in the arm support, various scars and dings, and the superheavy EMF. It was as massive and strong as the bot himself. And that forearm clasp still connecting the older gladiator with his brother.
The question was obvious in every line of his frame, but Sunny wasn’t stupid enough to voice it aloud. Something was going down, and whatever it was, he wanted in. A genuine smile stretched the flexible metal of his mouth while regarding what essentially amounted to his personal hero, the role model Sunny had chosen for himself.
“Sunstreaker too, what,” he asked with a bright grin, something that had been almost non-existent prior to relocating to Kaon. “Congratulations on your last match. It was a real slagfest.”
“I’ll certainly remember it,” came the dry reply, underscored with amusement. Releasing his grip on Sideswipe, Megatronus extended his hand to Sunstreaker with a field pulse of welcome and interest. “And my congratulations to you on today’s victory. Impressive, and entertaining. You may want to try servo-scythes - discrete in themselves, but they cut a stronger gush.”
Sideswipe smiled, lifting his right arm and with a snap his own combat scythe sprang forward from the guard plating of his forearm, crackling with vicious electrical charge.
“Told’ja,” he said smugly, but at the same time, through their bond, ’He wants us as fighters for his movement. I think he’s anticipating hostile reactionaries from the Tower. He needs foot soldiers. You want this?’ An empathic pulse passed between them, a vague sense of approval but undefined apprehension. They fought for themselves, always had, clawing at the universe for survival, back to back against everything and everyone else and while Sideswipe’s spark seemed to jump at the prospect of expanding beyond that narrow universe, he couldn’t be sure… Blue optics held the question, calm and a little hopeful, trying to read that rare authenticity in his brother’s smile. ‘You believe in what he’s doing?’
And in that moment Sunstreaker couldn’t find it anywhere in his spark to be even remotely irritated with his smarmy twin. Outwardly ignoring his brother entirely, the golden mech returned the hand clasp, unabashedly basking in the interest and the congratulations, and allowing his hand to linger until the elder gladiator chose to break the grip. His entire orn, frag his entire vorn had just been made. “Yeah well, that’s half the job here: moving the crowd,” he replied, smile going slightly wider as he lifted his free hand, letting the titanium alloy blade there slide free and heat ever so slightly. “They do, but sometimes, the best tools are your own two hands.” The blade disappeared with a low hiss and a lingering scent of warm metal.
That was all outward though. Internally, Sunstreaker could hardly contain his disbelief, head swivelling to stare at his twin in mild shock, and replied only with, You don’t? The approval and barely concealed hope were enough to outweigh whatever apprehension his twin held. Sideswipe desired freedom so completely that he couldn’t bear to give away anything of himself without some kind of fight, so Sunny just wrote it off. Besides, this was a chance to work with a genuine scrap rooted hero here. This mech was going to change the world.
Megatronus could sense from Sunstreaker’s field that he was as amicable to the offer as his brother had been, though nothing had actually been said. On this level, where everyone listened from the shadows for any opportunity that would get them ahead, get them out, silent communication was an artform. Movements of air, subtle flares and flickers in fields, optical brightess - the low-tier mechs could speak just as clearly without words.
“Bare hands are viscerally satisfying,” the gladiator affirmed with an engine rumble, optics flicking to Sideswipe with a flash of approval before fixing back on Sunstreaker. He could pass the data packet on to his brother. “I think you’d enjoy the reaction when you blind a bot with their own spray, though. A thin slash gives you the range you just don’t get with pulling lines straight out through armor.”
Sideswipe offered nothing on the subject of energon spray or the prettiness of any particular gush. He just slipped to the side a little, just slightly behind his brother in a minor shadowing move that - with the two twins - had the strange effect of making it seem like they were one mech, the blend and bend of their EM fields sliding in and out of eachother’s so easily that to the sensors they were almost indistinguishable. He was smirking though, amicable to the subject of violence as any gladiator.
‘We’ll I ain’t got a bad feeling ‘bout it yet, bro. It was neutral response. His optics flickered toward his brother, him EMF giving slightly. You wanna go for it, I’d like to take it to the Towers, but it ain’t my show.
“I’ll have to give it a shot when I’m feeling a little more calculating and not out to just enjoy myself,” Sunstreaker replied amicably, optics tracking the elder gladiator’s gaze as it flicked to his twin. A cocky smile settled on the young mech’s features as he fell silent and let his EMF blend with his brother’s, letting them bend and swirl together to complete their strange spark signature. It would be interesting to find out Megatronus’ reaction to their little “disappearing” act. The resulting conflict between optics and sensors had given the twins an advantage over their opponents that they viciously and repeatedly exploited.
‘Let’s do this. We show him how far we’re willing to go, I could guarantee this mech will let us do just that. He returned Sideswipe’s gaze, his eagerness beginning to crawl through their mingled field.
“Nice trick,” Megatronus remarked of the electromagnetic illusion, scanners combing over both mechs out of combat-instinct. Something to keep in mind for the future...
“Say the word,” said Sideswipe, grinning and l propping an elbow on his brother’s shoulder, “and we’ll trick whatever mech you want us to.”