Fic- Primary Colors, Sunstreaker/Optimus Prime, Weekly Response Fic
Title/Prompt: Primary Colors
Writer: Left_eye_better
Rating: K
Characters: Sunstreaker, Optimus Prime, Megatron, Ratchet, and Sideswipe
Warning: Non descriptive violence, besides that it’s Unbeta’d.
Word Count: 616
Continuity: G1, comic/cartoon mix
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara/whoever.
Yellow fingers dug into the sand of the arena floor. His engine growled dangerously. Fluid spilled out around his form. Everything was damaged, but Sumstreaker couldn’t feel a thing. Grinding components snarled as he tried to rise once more. He was the best. He was the top warrior. He was the strongest. The mech still standing across the ring from him would pay for every scratch double, every dent triple, and for every humilation with his life. The toughliner rose to his feet planting them, the right then the left. Clumps of energon soaked sand fell from his frame as he moved. He vents cycled, hitching as different errors erupted across his vision. Immediate shutdown was not an option. Death was not an option.
Pushing off with his left he charged forward toward the gunmetal gray gladiator. Static laced an echoing battle cry his vocalizer forced out of him as he moved forward. He was beyond taunts, and truly beyond words. The crowd had erupted at his attack. Some cheering, and some jeering that he should have just stayed down. Megatron’s arm pulled back readying his morning star. As the arm moved forward, and Sunstreaker discovered the last of his strength collapsing to the ground midstep, a large mech stepped between the challengers. Megatron’s action did not stop. His arm followed through bringing with it the terrible spiked weapon.
It had been caught. The energy from the weapon crackled around the blue fingers of the newcomer’s hand and more amazingly in the spaces between the parted fingers the sharpened spikes jutted, causing no damage. “Megatron! This is the last ‘bout and your partner is now me!” Using his grip on the head of the weapon the red and blue mech pulled Megatron to him activating his axe in place of his opposite hand
“Now, Now Prime, Don’t you know it’s not polite to interrupt?”
_________________________
Blue optics flickered to life. Sunstreaker tried to tense his form but remained entirely still. He couldn’t move. Red hands move over his frame, and visible to him was the shoulder of a medic. There was nothing in his memory past the sound of Megatron’s voice and the sight of two sturdy blue greaves.
“Hey there, Sunshine.” His brother’s voice came across his audials clearly and a weight was applied to his unfeeling shoulder. “You nearly bit it.”
“If Prime was any later it wouldn’t have been nearly it would have been done.” Although the yellow mech couldn’t see the source of the voice it didn’t a rocket scientist to conclude it was medic.
After his optics focused he shuttered them briefly allowing them to refocus once more. “Prime?” He’d heard that title before. That title and the mech who held it had never played a role in his life before, but he knew of the ruler.
“Optimus Prime, big red and blue, and well, Prime.” Sideswipe moved into his brother visual field, a smile beamed down at him before one of the Medic’s hands pushed at the red mech’s shoulder.
Slowly the yellow mech lifted a hand to his face, rubbing at the soft metal that his faceplates were composed of. He remembered the feel of the area sand after he’d fallen the last time. He could remember the fearful pulse of his spark. That was going to be his end. He was going to die. Their Prime had intervened. He’d allowed himself to feel hope for that moment. Letting his arm fall back to the table and Ratchet continue his work Sunstreaker knew that hope was a drug for fools, but it was something he was now acquainted with. That and his Prime. Hope was painted red and blue.
Writer: Left_eye_better
Rating: K
Characters: Sunstreaker, Optimus Prime, Megatron, Ratchet, and Sideswipe
Warning: Non descriptive violence, besides that it’s Unbeta’d.
Word Count: 616
Continuity: G1, comic/cartoon mix
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara/whoever.
Yellow fingers dug into the sand of the arena floor. His engine growled dangerously. Fluid spilled out around his form. Everything was damaged, but Sumstreaker couldn’t feel a thing. Grinding components snarled as he tried to rise once more. He was the best. He was the top warrior. He was the strongest. The mech still standing across the ring from him would pay for every scratch double, every dent triple, and for every humilation with his life. The toughliner rose to his feet planting them, the right then the left. Clumps of energon soaked sand fell from his frame as he moved. He vents cycled, hitching as different errors erupted across his vision. Immediate shutdown was not an option. Death was not an option.
Pushing off with his left he charged forward toward the gunmetal gray gladiator. Static laced an echoing battle cry his vocalizer forced out of him as he moved forward. He was beyond taunts, and truly beyond words. The crowd had erupted at his attack. Some cheering, and some jeering that he should have just stayed down. Megatron’s arm pulled back readying his morning star. As the arm moved forward, and Sunstreaker discovered the last of his strength collapsing to the ground midstep, a large mech stepped between the challengers. Megatron’s action did not stop. His arm followed through bringing with it the terrible spiked weapon.
It had been caught. The energy from the weapon crackled around the blue fingers of the newcomer’s hand and more amazingly in the spaces between the parted fingers the sharpened spikes jutted, causing no damage. “Megatron! This is the last ‘bout and your partner is now me!” Using his grip on the head of the weapon the red and blue mech pulled Megatron to him activating his axe in place of his opposite hand
“Now, Now Prime, Don’t you know it’s not polite to interrupt?”
_________________________
Blue optics flickered to life. Sunstreaker tried to tense his form but remained entirely still. He couldn’t move. Red hands move over his frame, and visible to him was the shoulder of a medic. There was nothing in his memory past the sound of Megatron’s voice and the sight of two sturdy blue greaves.
“Hey there, Sunshine.” His brother’s voice came across his audials clearly and a weight was applied to his unfeeling shoulder. “You nearly bit it.”
“If Prime was any later it wouldn’t have been nearly it would have been done.” Although the yellow mech couldn’t see the source of the voice it didn’t a rocket scientist to conclude it was medic.
After his optics focused he shuttered them briefly allowing them to refocus once more. “Prime?” He’d heard that title before. That title and the mech who held it had never played a role in his life before, but he knew of the ruler.
“Optimus Prime, big red and blue, and well, Prime.” Sideswipe moved into his brother visual field, a smile beamed down at him before one of the Medic’s hands pushed at the red mech’s shoulder.
Slowly the yellow mech lifted a hand to his face, rubbing at the soft metal that his faceplates were composed of. He remembered the feel of the area sand after he’d fallen the last time. He could remember the fearful pulse of his spark. That was going to be his end. He was going to die. Their Prime had intervened. He’d allowed himself to feel hope for that moment. Letting his arm fall back to the table and Ratchet continue his work Sunstreaker knew that hope was a drug for fools, but it was something he was now acquainted with. That and his Prime. Hope was painted red and blue.