You're All Beneath Me

And not just a thirst for more fluids.

Lust, desire, the urge to bend and break other mechas to his will; to instill within them fear, To turn full adult frames into newsparks cowering in fear of some kind of Cybertronian myth of a monster.

The same images that had a part in bringing him in back to the world of the living continue to loop in his processor; only fueling that hunger he feels. He hasn’t felt the desire to tear apart someone like this since his days back in the pits. Like his time there, he fully embraces the idea. Even going as far as promising to make these visions become a reality.

It’s about time others shared in his nightmare.

So weak. So fragile. So delicious.

His fangs ache to sink into another mecha's lines and quench that thirst that's clawing at him from the inside out. The further he travels into the depths of a now sleeping city, the more opportunities arise as bar patrons stumble out from lively establishments. A poor soul just so happened to move into his line of sight and capture his attention instantaneously. Shrouded by the darkness of the night, taking this opportunity, Sunstreaker steers the mecha into an alleyway. The soft mumbles of 'who are you' and 'what are you doing' fall upon deaf audios.

He can smell it.

Fear.

How the slag did they get fangs is actually something he finds himself a little curious about. He’s sure it’s in part to their little trip to the well earlier; however that worked. Hell, now that he’s actually looking at himself, he notices that some wounds and bruises he was planning on fixing up later have disappeared. If anything, his frame looks brand new now. If that’s the case, at least this frame kept the black paintjob.

Sideswipe has never been one to dwell too much on things however. No matter how crucial they may have been. So it’s with a shrug, he just decides the fixed up frame and fangs is some weird sort of parting gift for cheating death. Satisfied with that answer and done looking at his reflection, the rebellious twin turns around to face his brother; that ever annoying smirk of his still in place.-

His optics lock onto those of his twin's.

Into the throng of people that would be there at this time of night, they would.. they would do something. Something that'd sate this hunger. That thought alone has the easily irritable mech moving towards the front door. His fangs ache at the delicious thought and he doesn't bother hiding them (not that he's... figured out how to do so yet).

Eh..-He turns his helm to look behind him at one of the numerous mirrors(ah thank you Suns’ vanity~) they have hanging up on the wall. Optics narrowing as he focuses in on his image, when he does spot his own fangs, he’s excitedly moving over to stare at his reflection-

WHOAHOHO, hot damn! That explains the looks I was gettin’ earlier.

Stepping over the broken pieces, Sunstreaker stared at his brother examining himself in the mirror. He could imagine all those looks being received. Sideswipe did say he drank everything at the bar. Yet unlike his twin, Sunstreaker did not have to worry about any bystanders witnessing his death and soon transformation into... into whatever he was now.

He scoffed at the other mech and crossed his arms over his black chassis.]

Ohohoho~ Look at ya. Ya got a bite to match that bark of yer.

Idiot. [His lip curled and his optics narrowed yet he still looked as dangerously beautiful as ever.] You have them too.

-If there was one thing he had in common with his alternates, it was his ability to whine like an overgrown sparkling-

I drank everythin’ I could afford at the bar. I’m thirsty, bro. -He tries to pout but the large protruding fangs he’s developed just cause him to pierce his bottom lip. Without skipping a beat, his glossa licks up the energon from his split bottom lip.-

Sideswipe's presence was far more irksome. His hand was on the counter and the more he grabbed it, the more cracks begun to splinter it.]

Through the clamor up above, Sideswipe can make out the various bloodlust driven cries of those enjoying this show. “Tear him apart!” “Break him!” “Offline him!” 

His optics darken at their roars of excitement. Oh how he would love to break every single mecha here. How he’d love to turn those eager cries into screams of terror. To make all those credits grubbing servos tremble underneath his grasp; to become paralyzed with fear.

Fear. 

It’s so fraggin disgustin’ and Sides refuses to continue to be another creature ruled by it. No, he welcomes these darker thoughts fueling him. He loves just how much more brutal and destructive he gets with each new mech that gets pitted against him. Let him become even worse than this monster glaring back at him. Tear apart that old coward of a mech he once was until nothing, not even this ring, can hold his hatred back. 

No one here will be safe from him.

No one would stand in his way.

His moment of glorification recedes as soon as the other mech begins to rise. There was a voice in Sunstreaker's mind shouting at the other bot to stay down; stay down where he deserved to be. This was his moment and no one was going to ruin it for him. Defiance did not go over well with him and he feels his energon come to a boil as rage clouds his judgement. It takes over, consumes his essence and morphs him into a ruthless fighter that everyone knew well.

That mech was going down and he would take him there in pieces. Brutality... bloodlust... it all sung so loudly within Sunstreaker's mind and oozed from his EM field which flares wildly. There is no control. He's nothing but a warrior being fueled by rage; even his spark feels empty and cold, devoid of all feeling. Sideswipe's emotions bleed through their bond and Sunstreaker soaks up the feeling as if it were his own. He can't differentiate anything anymore.

No, why aim small when they could achieve so much better? No, not just better, the best. They were the best.

Glory was so much more befitting.

A multitude of frames and faces flash by. Energon splattered about, mechs soon lying in a pool of pink, face down into the very thing that once pumped through their systems and gave them life. Throughout every memory, no matter how much pink is marking his frame or how dented or scratched the other mech may be, the bright vivid yellow of his twin’s paintjob always makes itself known. His increasingly brutish actions had others remembering his name but for Sideswipe It was always that fraggin yellow paintjob of Sunstreaker’s.

Pink and yellow aren’t the only colors that stand out through the flashes of images. Just as bright and loud is that awful red paintjob Sideswipe was once known for. For once his processor doesn’t go to his alternates. The Sideswipe he’s seeing and reliving has no insignia marking his frame but that leash, that lack of power and control, is still there. Like a wild turbo hound, it’s fight or flight in the pits and when the credits aren’t up to a certain mech’s standing, when there’s talks of splitting the twins up, of hell having them fight against one another for all these greedy optics to see, that red frame becomes all fight. It’s no longer a fight for triumph, there’s no longer a chance he can lose, every time he goes out into the pit, it becomes a fight for his life and he damn well makes sure to break the poor mech that gets pitted against him.

Never a one way link, as his twin becomes that much gruesome and merciless so does he. The more energon they spill, the more credits won for their owner, the more they’re treated as nothing more than fraggin animals and oh does their hatred intensify.

Why leave the past behind when it defines so much of who he is now? Why keep these memories hidden when they remind him of who he really is? 

Thanks to their bond, whatever Sideswipe feels is merely intensified as it breeches Sunstreaker's own end of their unique connection. His control is long gone; done away so easily thanks to the onslaught of dark memories he tried to repress.

Fighting, it seems, is the one true thing the twins are masters of.

So enraged in the span of a mere nanoklik, when his fist is suddenly blocked by Sideswipe's hand, the older mech barely has time to register the repercussions of his unplanned attack before he's being kicked right off. Grunting as the pede lands on his abdominal plating and forces him into flying backwards, his back lands heavily on the floor, scratching his plating, he rolls out of the vulnerable position with practiced ease.

Instinct takes over his senses and he's suddenly back squaring off against an opponent in the ring.

What was his name again... 

Oh but that was just the icing on the energon cake. Coming across the yellow blast from the past, hearing his very reasoning for being an Autobot, those words alone, had set Sideswipe over edge. And when the brawler lost grip on the present, stuck in memory files of a time he rather forget, the one thing that could keep him grounded, to remind him that he wasn’t back there was gone.

His optics become darker and unfocused as Sunstreaker stops him from moving any forward. Despite those fingers digging into his hand; crunching and denting the metal, Sideswipe’s smirk only grows. Two can play at this game. If Sunbuns doesn’t want him taking another step forward, he won’t. That just means he won’t be allowing his brother to move any forward.

No. Sunstreaker may had blocked his side of the bond when Sideswipe’s processor was slipping into dangerous territory but right now Sides won’t be ignored. Right now, he’s not allowing the older twin to think, see, or feel anything but their past. Memory files seem to play on loop, a yellow plated Sunstreaker arrogantly stating his place, thinking he’s out thought the system that took him in, right now Sides doesn’t even know if he’s thinking of the Autobot soldier or the mech gripping tightly to his hand.

All Sideswipe is truly aware of is the hatred consuming his twin and him. It fuels an animalistic desire in him that has him letting go of any ounce of control. With everything coming from the other side of the bond, it looks like his twin is right there with him. Anyone who believed Cybertronians weren’t meant to fight only needed to see his twin and him to have that tone changing.

Their home suddenly vanishes and he's back in the pits, chassis marked up and dented horribly as he faces down another opponent in a series of seven rounds. A fight to the death he was all too familiar with. Of course he won; he always wins. He's the best. The crowd adores him. And yet their owner only saw them as pawns.

Objects to be used in the grand scheme of things of which there were many. And many mecha who would pay big to be with the then golden plated twin. Used… controlled… admired… lusted after… Time shifts and he's forced into feeling having to hold back his frustration as he watched his twin in the pits without backup. Another flashback where the thought of splitting the twins up… Their owner didn't care about them; he cared only about the show and the credits to be won. That psychopathic tendency began rising and his victories in the pits became all the more brutal and gruesome. Painted in energon, his fury became unchecked when pushed too far and yet still their owner had that power. Primus how Sunstreaker wanted to kill him but knew the time would come. The time would come to destroy everything and everyone that linked them back to that hell hole that turned them into what they are now.

He wanted to leave the past in the past but it's now so painfully clear that his brother will not let it rest. Sideswipe will not let him rest. Sideswipe is forcing him to remember that which he wants to keep buried. That rage inside of him boils over to feed that scorching fire of hatred and destruction. He snaps just like the red helmed mech seemed to hope for.