Spark Deep -- Chapter 2: Promise
Title: Chapter 2: Promise
Rating: K+
Continuity: AU G1
Chapter 2: Keeping a Promise
Bluestreak stared at his uncle, optics wide, vocalizer silent. “What?” finally managed, and Smokescreen's doorwings slumped even farther.
“I'm so sorry, Blue. I... I was over-charged, and stupid, and... I’m so sorry...”
Bluestreak leaned forward in his chair. “I... It's okay, Smokescreen.”
“No, it's not. You just lost... lost... and I’m making you lose it all again...”
“Cousin. I... won't say I’m not mad, but... I love you, and I will uphold your honor. I will go and keep your promise for you. It's only two hundred vorns.”
“That's a long time, Blue.”
“Well, that servant did say you might be able to visit...” Bluestreak said, forcing a smile, and patted the other Praxian's knee. “I'll be okay, Smokey.”
The blue and red Praxian vented, then nodded. “Okay. Okay. We have to be there tomorrow night... I’ll... I’ll help you pack.”
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
They arrived at the manor just as the sun was slipping behind the horizon. Trailbreaker, the big black mech, was once again at the door.
“Welcome back, Smokescreen. Bluestreak, welcome to Sunside Manor.”
Bluestreak nodded nervously, mute for the moment as he stared at the elaborate, beautiful building.
“Ah, Smokescreen,” a cheery voice said, and Smokescreen's engine rumbled angrily. “I see you upheld your promise. Good. I would have hated having to come after you. And you must be Bluestreak,” the red mech said with a charming smile. “Welcome to our humble abode!”
“Nothing humble about it, Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker growled as he stalked past his brother and up to the gray and red Praxian. He looked him over with predatory optics, then nodded. “You'll do. Hound! Show Bluestreak to his quarters. Smokescreen, you are no longer needed here. Go.”
With that, the yellow mech whirled around and disappeared upstairs. Sideswipe grinned and followed him.
The green mech stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on the Praxian's shoulder. “Come on, Bluestreak. It's not so bad here. Sunstreaker is always grumpy when he's hungry.”
Bluestreak said nothing. He just turned, gave his uncle one last hug, then nodded to Hound. “Okay,” he mumbled. “I... I’m ready.”
The room he was shown to made his processors freeze. For a long moment, he wondered if this was what his older brother, Prowl, felt like when he locked up.
The walls were inlaid with crystals, the lines and shapes swirling in complex, yet still somehow simple patterns. There was a fire burning in the grate - a real, old-fashioned fire! There was a thick, mesh-covered couch in front of the fire, with a small table in front of it. There were a few odd ornaments and odds and ends scattered about the room, all just as elaborate and beautiful as the room itself. There were two doors on one wall, and through one, Bluestreak could see a wide, comfortable looking, padded berth. Through the other, he caught a glimpse of a beautiful, highly decorated washracks.
“This... this is really for me?” he asked, voice scratchy with static.
“Yes, it is,” Hound said with a grin. “You're the Lords' apprentice, you know. Not just a servant, Master Bluestreak.”
Bluestreak's optics widened and he frantically shook his helm. “No, no, I’m just a trader's creation... Don't cal me master! Just... don't.”
Hound shook his helm. “I'm afraid I must. The Lords insist.”
“But... I’m not...”
“You are now,” Sideswipe said, and Bluestreak glanced over to see him leaning against the doorframe, a wide smirk on his faceplates.
“No, I'm-”
“Bluestreak. You are. We have your contract.” His optics half-closed, he whipped the datapad out of his subspace, dangling it in front of the two mechs. “You're our apprentice. You do what we say.”
“Why...”
“For us to know, Li'l Boy Blue.” Bluestreak shuddered, doorwings wilting. Sideswipe's coy look melted into a confused frown. “What?”
“Don't... My creators called me that.”
The red Twin's expression softened. “Ah... Sorry... I’ll... Sorry.”
Bluestreak just nodded. With a heavy vent, Sideswipe pushed away from the doorframe. “There's a party every night. You're welcome to come, and can bring whoever you want to your berth. However, no one ever stays past sunrise. They all must be gone.”
Bluestreak was staring. “I... I... Okay?”
Sideswipe gave one last nod. “Alright then. Anyone wearing that symbol-” He gestured to the stylized, red sun on Hound's chest. “-is a servant, and you may ask them for anything you desire. They have all been told who you are.”
And then he was gone, and Bluestreak was alone with Hound.
“Well...”
“Do you wish to go to the party, Master Bluestreak? Or would you like me to find something for you to do here?”
“I...”
“I will accompany you, if you wish for an escort.”
“That would be nice...”
Hound smiled. “Then come, Master Bluestreak.”
A breem later, Bluestreak was walking through the crowd of mechs, doorwings twitching in time with the pounding music. He could sense Hound trailing along behind him, a comforting, steady EM field pressed up against his. He had always liked standing amidst the chaotic mess of a crowd, but the steadying presence helped. He was still reeling from... well, all of it.
He spent the night sitting with Hound in a dark corner. They didn't talk much - it was close to impossible with the noise - but they watched the moving bodies, the frames of the faceless crowd. Lights flashed brightly, music pounded into their sensors.
The time passed quickly, and Bluestreak spent a joor or two sitting there. He grew to be tired, though, and asked Hound to lead him back to his room.
“As you wish, Master Bluestreak,” he had said, smiling gently, and did as asked.
The music was just a distant beat in his room, a soothing rumble. Bluestreak fell asleep quickly on the too-comfortable berth, tired after the long orn.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
When he woke, his chronometer told him it was the middle of the day. Stretching and flaring his doorwings, he stood after luxuriating on the soft berth for a moment and left the room, slowly ambling his way downstairs to the kitchen, which he had seen the orn before.
There were a couple mechs working in the warm room, but they paid him little attention after he waved them off. He got himself a cube of plain energon, drank it, then decided to go exploring. There was much of the manor house he had not yet seen, after all.
He ambled through the halls, no destination in mind, opening doors as he passed, poking into empty rooms.
The floors passed quickly under his pedes, the grandeur and extravagance before his optics marveled at. He saw many servants. They all bowed to him before continuing on with whatever chore they were carrying out. He tried to talk to a few of them, but those he did talk to seemed nervous and uncomfortable. He let them be after he realized that they saw him as only a master. Someone above them. That, in turn, made him nervous. He would have to do what he could to change that in the future.
Aside from that, he was having fun, though. Smokescreen had always been the adventurous one, and Prowl had always been the brave one. Bluestreak had been the mech to stay home and do... 'normal' things.
But now that he was here, with the opportunity right in front of him, he was enjoying it, this exploring and venturing around alone.
He wandered down a hall, suddenly realizing that this part of the house seemed... darker. Scruffier. Dirty and worn. There was dust on the furniture, as though the servants didn't come here. That was... odd.
He reached for one of the doors, and his hand was on the knob when a low rumble echoed through him, vibrating his doorwings, making his plating shudder. He turned around slowly, optics wide, and came nose to snout with a monster.
Rating: K+
Continuity: AU G1
Chapter 2: Keeping a Promise
Bluestreak stared at his uncle, optics wide, vocalizer silent. “What?” finally managed, and Smokescreen's doorwings slumped even farther.
“I'm so sorry, Blue. I... I was over-charged, and stupid, and... I’m so sorry...”
Bluestreak leaned forward in his chair. “I... It's okay, Smokescreen.”
“No, it's not. You just lost... lost... and I’m making you lose it all again...”
“Cousin. I... won't say I’m not mad, but... I love you, and I will uphold your honor. I will go and keep your promise for you. It's only two hundred vorns.”
“That's a long time, Blue.”
“Well, that servant did say you might be able to visit...” Bluestreak said, forcing a smile, and patted the other Praxian's knee. “I'll be okay, Smokey.”
The blue and red Praxian vented, then nodded. “Okay. Okay. We have to be there tomorrow night... I’ll... I’ll help you pack.”
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
They arrived at the manor just as the sun was slipping behind the horizon. Trailbreaker, the big black mech, was once again at the door.
“Welcome back, Smokescreen. Bluestreak, welcome to Sunside Manor.”
Bluestreak nodded nervously, mute for the moment as he stared at the elaborate, beautiful building.
“Ah, Smokescreen,” a cheery voice said, and Smokescreen's engine rumbled angrily. “I see you upheld your promise. Good. I would have hated having to come after you. And you must be Bluestreak,” the red mech said with a charming smile. “Welcome to our humble abode!”
“Nothing humble about it, Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker growled as he stalked past his brother and up to the gray and red Praxian. He looked him over with predatory optics, then nodded. “You'll do. Hound! Show Bluestreak to his quarters. Smokescreen, you are no longer needed here. Go.”
With that, the yellow mech whirled around and disappeared upstairs. Sideswipe grinned and followed him.
The green mech stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on the Praxian's shoulder. “Come on, Bluestreak. It's not so bad here. Sunstreaker is always grumpy when he's hungry.”
Bluestreak said nothing. He just turned, gave his uncle one last hug, then nodded to Hound. “Okay,” he mumbled. “I... I’m ready.”
The room he was shown to made his processors freeze. For a long moment, he wondered if this was what his older brother, Prowl, felt like when he locked up.
The walls were inlaid with crystals, the lines and shapes swirling in complex, yet still somehow simple patterns. There was a fire burning in the grate - a real, old-fashioned fire! There was a thick, mesh-covered couch in front of the fire, with a small table in front of it. There were a few odd ornaments and odds and ends scattered about the room, all just as elaborate and beautiful as the room itself. There were two doors on one wall, and through one, Bluestreak could see a wide, comfortable looking, padded berth. Through the other, he caught a glimpse of a beautiful, highly decorated washracks.
“This... this is really for me?” he asked, voice scratchy with static.
“Yes, it is,” Hound said with a grin. “You're the Lords' apprentice, you know. Not just a servant, Master Bluestreak.”
Bluestreak's optics widened and he frantically shook his helm. “No, no, I’m just a trader's creation... Don't cal me master! Just... don't.”
Hound shook his helm. “I'm afraid I must. The Lords insist.”
“But... I’m not...”
“You are now,” Sideswipe said, and Bluestreak glanced over to see him leaning against the doorframe, a wide smirk on his faceplates.
“No, I'm-”
“Bluestreak. You are. We have your contract.” His optics half-closed, he whipped the datapad out of his subspace, dangling it in front of the two mechs. “You're our apprentice. You do what we say.”
“Why...”
“For us to know, Li'l Boy Blue.” Bluestreak shuddered, doorwings wilting. Sideswipe's coy look melted into a confused frown. “What?”
“Don't... My creators called me that.”
The red Twin's expression softened. “Ah... Sorry... I’ll... Sorry.”
Bluestreak just nodded. With a heavy vent, Sideswipe pushed away from the doorframe. “There's a party every night. You're welcome to come, and can bring whoever you want to your berth. However, no one ever stays past sunrise. They all must be gone.”
Bluestreak was staring. “I... I... Okay?”
Sideswipe gave one last nod. “Alright then. Anyone wearing that symbol-” He gestured to the stylized, red sun on Hound's chest. “-is a servant, and you may ask them for anything you desire. They have all been told who you are.”
And then he was gone, and Bluestreak was alone with Hound.
“Well...”
“Do you wish to go to the party, Master Bluestreak? Or would you like me to find something for you to do here?”
“I...”
“I will accompany you, if you wish for an escort.”
“That would be nice...”
Hound smiled. “Then come, Master Bluestreak.”
A breem later, Bluestreak was walking through the crowd of mechs, doorwings twitching in time with the pounding music. He could sense Hound trailing along behind him, a comforting, steady EM field pressed up against his. He had always liked standing amidst the chaotic mess of a crowd, but the steadying presence helped. He was still reeling from... well, all of it.
He spent the night sitting with Hound in a dark corner. They didn't talk much - it was close to impossible with the noise - but they watched the moving bodies, the frames of the faceless crowd. Lights flashed brightly, music pounded into their sensors.
The time passed quickly, and Bluestreak spent a joor or two sitting there. He grew to be tired, though, and asked Hound to lead him back to his room.
“As you wish, Master Bluestreak,” he had said, smiling gently, and did as asked.
The music was just a distant beat in his room, a soothing rumble. Bluestreak fell asleep quickly on the too-comfortable berth, tired after the long orn.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
When he woke, his chronometer told him it was the middle of the day. Stretching and flaring his doorwings, he stood after luxuriating on the soft berth for a moment and left the room, slowly ambling his way downstairs to the kitchen, which he had seen the orn before.
There were a couple mechs working in the warm room, but they paid him little attention after he waved them off. He got himself a cube of plain energon, drank it, then decided to go exploring. There was much of the manor house he had not yet seen, after all.
He ambled through the halls, no destination in mind, opening doors as he passed, poking into empty rooms.
The floors passed quickly under his pedes, the grandeur and extravagance before his optics marveled at. He saw many servants. They all bowed to him before continuing on with whatever chore they were carrying out. He tried to talk to a few of them, but those he did talk to seemed nervous and uncomfortable. He let them be after he realized that they saw him as only a master. Someone above them. That, in turn, made him nervous. He would have to do what he could to change that in the future.
Aside from that, he was having fun, though. Smokescreen had always been the adventurous one, and Prowl had always been the brave one. Bluestreak had been the mech to stay home and do... 'normal' things.
But now that he was here, with the opportunity right in front of him, he was enjoying it, this exploring and venturing around alone.
He wandered down a hall, suddenly realizing that this part of the house seemed... darker. Scruffier. Dirty and worn. There was dust on the furniture, as though the servants didn't come here. That was... odd.
He reached for one of the doors, and his hand was on the knob when a low rumble echoed through him, vibrating his doorwings, making his plating shudder. He turned around slowly, optics wide, and came nose to snout with a monster.