ATTN: darkdanc3r
Methinks your twins will understand the meaning of the old adage: Let sleeping creatures lie. :)
“Here, puppy, puppy,” Sunsinger cooed, slapping her knee-guards in the same manner she’d witnessed in the park earlier in the day. “C’mon, boy!”
The object of her attention lay resting his golden head on tough, plasma-tempered paws, basking in the last warm rays the day had to offer. Slitted optic ports remained dim, pointedly ignoring the young femme’s pleas.
“What on Cybertron are you trying to do?”
Sunsinger glanced over one silver-sheened purple shoulder strut at her spark-twin. She sighed pointedly. “It’s Earth, Hawk. We’re on Earth.”
Nighthawk shrugged, folding his green legs under him. “Okay,” he relented, “what on Earth are you trying to do?”
The little femme adjusted her stance, curling up next to her brother. “Jazz an’ Bumblebee took me to the park today, and I saw these humans playing with creatures called ‘dogs’.” Nighthawk slid closer, knowing a tale when he heard one. Sunsinger grinned. “They come in so many armor colors - er, ‘fur’ - and sizes, too. I got to play this game called ‘fetch’ with a big brown and black dog named Bullet.”
“What’s ‘fetch’?”
“Well, humans have these small round rubber balls - or sticks - and they throw them some distance. The object is to have the dog run after the ball and bring it back. And you do it over and over again. It’s great fun!”
The forest green youngling mech frowned. “That doesn’t sound like fun,” he admitted. “Sounds like work.”
Sunsinger prodded him playfully. “I thought so too, but then I did it. It really is fun! The dog is so excited, and watching him run, and his eyes …” Sunsinger sighed happily. “Then we had to leave. But then I remembered that the big red mech - uhm, Blaster, I think - he had a dog. So I went looking for him, but he won’t play with me.”
Nighthawk’s optics wandered over to the golden lump of metal laying in the sunlight. “Him?”
“Yeah, but he’s not playing nice. All the dogs I met were so happy to play. All he’s doing is recharging.”
“Maybe he needs something interesting to play with.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno! I wasn’t there.”
Sunsinger pouted, digging Nighthawk with an elbow. She folded her arms in her lap and hunched down, staring at the golden-plated creature in the dying sunlight. She tried wracking her cortex for something - anything - that would tempt him into play. He’d been based off a dog, so shouldn’t he act like one? Right?
“Hey.”
“What?” Sunsinger looked up into her twin’s optics. Nighthawk was practically jiggling, which was unusual of him. She was the excitable one; he was the calmness that centered her in the wild moments.
“Why don’t we have him chase us?”
The little femme sat up straight, all audios. The very thought of burning rubber was setting her neuros all a-quiver. She’d been wanting to test the limits of her altmode for some time now. But Jazz, in a moment of uncharacteristic caution, told her that she had to take it easy. Humans frowned on speeding objects - it went against their laws, or something. What was the point of having wheels and a system built for speed if you couldn’t use them? There was so much about this adoptive planet that the little femme was confused about.
“That’s a great idea!” she cried even as her body automatically folded to the whim of her cortex. In short order, two sleek motorcycles, one purple and the other green, balanced on the cooling ground. “Me first!” With a thought, she set her back tire spinning, kicking up surface dirt and sending it hurtling into the air. Joy shot through her system as she peeled forward, popping an enthusiastic wheelie - a maneuver she learned on the way home. Her innate sense of balance allowed her to weave around the recharging creature, Nighthawk hot on her exhaust pipes. “C’mon, puppy! Chase!”
The twins spun in circles around the golden, four-legged creature, laughing. They called out in turns to him, trying to entice him to come online and join them. Sunsinger braked, spinning on her inner axis then raced away. Nighthawk’s cry of confusion echoed in her inner comm, but she simply laughed as he stopped his circling and followed. He’s got to follow us now, she thought wildly. But when she turned a sensor to scan her rear, there was nothing. The creature still lay with his head on his forepaws. Irritation wormed through Sunsinger’s cortex; the dog was ignoring her. Pulling a tight circle, she popped into rootmode and stood there, hands on her hip plates.
“Play with us!” she screamed at the mechanical dog. She felt Nighthawk transform and stand beside her. “Got any better ideas?” she practically snapped at her spark-twin. The forest green mech opened his mouth, but the golden dog shifted. Both younglings turned their full attention back to the spot, ready to take up the chase.
Slowly, the golden being lifted his head; he rose, extending forelegs while stretching the hind, one limb at a time. He then arched his back, plates shifting and servos popping. After this elaborate ritual, he planted his aft on the ground and regarded the twins with impassive blue optics. Huge jaws sporting plasma-tempered canines yawned open; a deep, rumbling voice issued from his vocalizer. “Play with you? After you wrecked my perfectly good bask? No, I don’t think so.”
Sunsinger felt her jaw unhinge; her twin was no less surprised. But it was the femme who could control her own vocalizer first. “But … but you’re a dog. Dogs play.”
“Yes, yes, dogs do play. But I am Steeljaw - and I am certainly not a dog!” As if for emphasis, Steeljaw yawned again, baring those long fangs. “I am a cat, and cats do not chase.” A slow smile tugged at the golden Autobot’s jaws. “Yes, I am a cat - and we hunt.”
Sunsinger looked at Nighthawk, optics wide. As one, their attention slid back to the mechanical cat. Steeljaw was still grinning, an expression that touched his slitted blue optics; his jaw dropped and a throaty chuckle vented from his vocalizer. Then he crouched, forequarters low to the ground, hind up in the air. “Run sparklings.”
Uh-oh, Sunsinger thought, turning to her twin. But Nighthawk was already running, throwing himself into altmode and speeding down the dirt path. Traitor, she huffed, turning away from the galloping Steeljaw. Her long legs with their powerful pistons churned the dirt before she transformed, spinning her wheels in place for one pump-stopping moment before gaining purchase and rocketing away.
Steeljaw loped after them with all the energy of a well-rested cat; it would be a good hunt.