Life just happened. You were nothingness and then suddenly you were there.
Thrown into a frame you didn't choose, perhaps a function you wouldn't have picked, a fraggin caste system with someone always calling the shots over you. You were expected to welcome life as a gift. As if your existence was only the beginning of destined great thing. Nevermind, life, a gift no one asked for, only enslaved you to a system that was doomed to collapse on his own. Cybertron was fated to become a desolate wasteland and its inhabitants were no better.
And mechs wondered why he was so reckless with his own life.
Death was always looming wherever he went. A fraggin spike tease. Always tempting him; it had him charging into every fight with no regrets. The thrill and rush of feeling invincible coursed through him every time he swung his fist at those who opposed him. The energon he spilled was always his way of taunting it back. Lips turned up in a maniacal smile. Try and stop me.
Deep down however, Sides always knew and welcomed the idea of death winning. That was fate after all. But it didn't mean he was going down without a fight.
There had been countless close calls. That time he got his aft handed to him as a newspark. One of his earliest fights back down in the pits. Any slaggin time Sunstreaker and he lost themselves and attempted to end one another. That same ominous force that bought them into this plane of existence was always creeping up behind them.
Like the coward it was, it snuck up on Sides when he least expected it. A night out in town, a few drinks among a few fights. The last few moments of his life blurred with everything else as he got closer to the well.
Who or rather what killed him became a multitude of mechas and events; all mixing into one until it no longer matter. Nothing mattered anymore. The other half of his spark was right there by his side; ready to join him in the well. For the first time, Sideswipe felt at peace. It was so completely different from the day he was sparked. One part of his spark wanting to go this way and the other that way; fighting within itself until it split into two. There was no doubts or fighting now. Just the desire to be whole once more.
At least, it began that way.
Something pulled him back from joining. Images of those watching the fights in the pits; their cheers and shouts quickly turning into cries of fears as Sideswipe turned on them. No longer a show of entertainment for their credits grubbing servos, the black plated mech was quick to turn it into a fight for survival for them. Energon splattered about, helms bashed in, the more mechs he went after, the more gruesome his attacks became. It became less about beating someone's face in and more about feeding on everything weaker than him. His appetite only grew as his frame became more beastly; less recognizable as a Cybertronian.
A nightmare? A warning? Or rather a promise.
That peace he once felt is quickly gone and replaced by something much more sinister.
However before he can make heads or tails of just what he's letting pull him back, he's alive again. On the cold hard ground, miles away from his home city. In the very spot, he died at just moments ago. To the well and then back to the land of living, a number of questions would go through any mech's helm after something such as that. Was it all a dream? How did he manage to come back? What fraggin killed him again anyways?
He could wonder such things at a later date or never as far as he's concerned. Right now he could fraggin could go for a drink.
His mouth is killing him.
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