BROTHERS AT ARMS
--Dormanus V, Cycle 9164--
"One. Two. Three."
Needlenose felt his optic twitch, a gear grinding somewhere in his head. Squaring his shoulders, he struggled to maintain his resolve, doing his best to simply stare straight ahead and not so much as glance at the Decepticon sitting on the rock next to him.
"Four. Five. Six."
It felt like his insides were burning. Maybe it was the heat, overheating his systems. Maybe it was the anxiety, the anticipation for the next strike. Or maybe....
"Seven. Eight. Ni--"
"For spark's sake!" Needlenose exclaimed, whirling on the purple and teal mech that was his woe. "What in Primus' name are you counting?"
Spinister glared at him, completely unfazed by his comrade's outburst. "The clouds," he said simply.
Needlenose flailed his arms, trying to form a response that did not involve shooting Spinister in the head. "Why?" he finally managed to get out.
"Nothing else to do. No Autobots to shoot. Might as well pass the time."
"Well, the least you could do is do it silently."
Spinister raised an optic, visibly confused. "How?"
Needlenose let out an exasperated sigh. "Just count in your head."
"In... my head?" Spinister adjusted his helmet crest, clearly in a struggle to solve this newfound conundrum he had been presented with. "How do you do that?"
Needlenose was about to answer him -- with his fist rather than his mouth -- when a brutish Decepticon came towards them from the rest of the camp.
"On your feet," Quake grunted. "We're on the move again."
"Thank the Allspark," Needlenose muttered. "I was just about to die of boredom -- and I would've taken Spinister with me. Have we found an Autobot outpost?"
"Yeah, Squawktalk's found one a few megamiles from here," Quake said. "It's the smallest and most vulnerable one of them all, so Roadblock's leading us in a full-blown assault."
"Now we're talking!" Spinister exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Whoever gets the lowest killcount has to polish Roadblock's feet."
With that statement, he converted into his helicopter form and took off. The other two Decepticons were left standing in silence for a moment before transforming as well.
"I gotta give you credit," Quake rumbled. "If it were me stuck with him, I'd have blown him to scrap by now."
"Chalk it up to experience," Needlenose said. "It's one thing to be stuck on duty with someone who gets on your nerve circuits... but try living with them your whole life...."
--Cybertron, before the war--
"Veritas, Mirage! See you in another life."
Tracks was still grinning to himself as he closed the door behind him, stepping into the living quarters he shared with his brother. However, his smile quickly vanished upon noticing its mundane state. It was nothing like the rich and fanciful estate that Mirage owned in Translucentica Heights. If he and his colleagues were to see the poor, third-class lifestyle Tracks lived....
Something had to change, he realized. Or, rather, someone.
At that moment, a white and violet mech emerged from an adjacent room, having a box full of micro-chips. He paused only to spare Tracks a glance before moving over to a monitor station, setting the box down next to it.
"Ahoy, brother!" Tracks said cheerily. "I have returned!"
"So I've noticed," Needlenose said wryly, still not looking at Tracks as he sat down at the monitor.
An awkward silence rolled across the room. Tracks revved softly to break it. "So, did you miss me?"
"Like a monoformer misses his transformation cog."
"Ha ha! Always with the jokes! You know, I met a monoformer at Mirage's party--"
"Oh, do go on."
Tracks raised an eyebrow at the venom Needlenose was barely hiding in his voice. "My, do I detect a hint of jealousy?"
Needlenose curled his hands into fists before slowly turning in his seat to face his brother. "Two months."
"Two months what?"
"Two months of you being gone. No transmissions, no messages, nothing. Complete radio silence. I almost started thinking you were dead."
"I was studying," Tracks said defensively. "I told you I was going to Praxus, didn't I?"
"For three weeks," Needlenose snapped. "You were gone for a lot more than three weeks. What was it? Extra curricular? Something you just didn't want to tell me?"
Tracks scowled. "What's got you so worked up about it? It was only two months--"
"Only two months?!" Irate, Needlenose got to his feet and stormed towards his brother. "All this time I've relied on you for money. With you gone, I had to find someway to keep this place. I tried enlisting into the Aerial Corps, but they said I wasn't fit. I tried doing volunteer work for the Elite Guard, but they turned me down. I even got an alt mode exempt pass from the local Functionist office, but all it's gotten for me is get my Chic-Chips on the market, which was barely enough to keep me off the streets."
"At least now you know how hard it is to make a living," Tracks retorted. "You should be grateful, little brother; if it weren't for me, you'd be an empty out in the Dead End."
Needlenose glared daggers at him. "You think the whole world revolves around you."
"Of course it doesn't. But it sure as smelt doesn't revolve around you."
Tracks wasn't quite sure what happened next, but it definitely involved his face and Needlenose's fist. As he laid sprawled on the floor, the last thing he saw were his brother's feet stepping past him and towards the door.
"If you close that door, don't expect it to ever open for you again!" Tracks called after him.
The door hissing shut was his last and only response.
--Now--
The gold-armored mech stepped over the Autobot bodies which littered the corridor. Trails of smoke were still emitting from the heated barrel of his gun. The enemy had hardly put up much of a fight, but given that they had been outnumbered and outgunned, that was hardly a surprise.
"This was almost too easy, Darkwing," Roadblock said as he stood over the freshly-made corpses, looking all too proud of his work.
"I wouldn't celebrate just yet," Darkwing said, standing behind him with the rest of the squad. "We still haven't found their database yet. Megatron didn't send us here just to shoot Autobots."
"Do you take me for an idiot?" Roadblock snarled back at his lieutenant. "How about instead of standing there reprimanding me, you get your lazy aft searching for it -- and that goes for all of you!"
As one, the Decepticons split up to search for their quarry. Heading down an adjacent hallway, Needlenose went all the way down before reaching a solitary door. Without warning, it slid open by itself and two Autobots jumped out, firing their guns at him. One scored a hit on his shoulder, but he was quickly able to return the favor, blasting the mech in the chest. He then redirected his gun to the other one....
And everything seemed to screech to a halt.
Red optics met blue for the first time in nearly five hundred years. Between them, words were silently passed; words that both wanted to say -- needed to say -- but could not bring themselves to speak them.
Seconds passed like eons. Eventually, shots were fired from both guns, but who pulled the trigger first, he would never know. And perhaps he would never want to.
As Needlenose stepped away from the offline -- but not dead -- body of Tracks, he wondered how different things would have played out had he not stepped out the door; if he had simply taken a moment to calm down. Would they have still been wearing different badges? Would they have still been standing on opposite ends of the battlefield? Or would he be the one laying on the ground now?
Before he could ruminate any more, he heard Quake calling out his name. As he moved to rejoin his brethren, Needlenose stopped to give the bot he had once called his brother one last look before turning his back forever.
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