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“We are not doing this.”
“Yes, we are.”
“Correction: I am not doing this.”
The shorter, red-brown she-wolf mech – designation: Sharpclaw – rolled her head back and groaned, “C’mon, Steel, lighten up a little! What, afraid to have some fun?”
“My definition of -fun- is different from yours,” Steeljaw replied, crossing his arms while glaring at his sister. There was no real heat behind his gaze; he’s more annoyed than anything else.
“Illegal and occasionally chaotic, I know. But just this once can’t you stuff your pride and humor me for a while?” Sharpclaw asked, a hint of vulnerability to her pleading. It didn’t help that her ears were lowered, red optics wide and glistening, and short tail dangling limply from behind.
Scrap, why did she need to pull out the pathetic puppy act?
Steeljaw had a difficult enough time as is saying -no- to Sharpclaw under normal circumstances, but now she wants him to accompany her at the park, where there’s a huge festival being thrown. For what, Steeljaw didn’t know, nor did he care. He’d rather be anywhere other than here, surrounded by crowds of strangers and assaulted on all sides by loud sounds and strong smells.
Not to say that Steeljaw isn’t a people person, but he prefers to socialize on his own terms. Sharpclaw knows this, and yet…
“Getting cold paws, are we?” A new voice suddenly cut through the din of Steeljaw’s thoughts.
Steeljaw flinched, but very quickly relaxed once the voice was given a green light for recognition. He rolled his optics and looked over his shoulder. Behind him stood a near-identical-to-himself mech with glossy black, purple, and white color palette. Despite the police decals on the other’s arms, Steeljaw knew there was no need to panic.
“No, Phantomjaw, I’m not,” Steeljaw said, frowning at that stupid smirk his brother always wore whenever he was around him and Sharpclaw.
Phantomjaw chuckled, “Seems like it to me.”
He shrugged and leaned over, wrapping an arm around Steeljaw’s shoulders. He pulled his brother close and touched their heads together. Their aura switched from playful to serious.
“Listen, I know Sharp is dragging you out of your comfort zone, but for the love of the Allspark, do this for her and make her happy. We’ve had to put up with so much recently, specifically your tantrums…”
“I don’t throw tantrums!” Steeljaw snapped, forcefully shrugging his brother off. “I raise legitimate concerns and get frustrated when everybody else is too stupid to understand!”
“So instead of saying that you’re throwing a tantrum, what you’re actually doing is performing a passionate rant?” Sharpclaw questioned.
“Yes!”
Sharpclaw and Phantomjaw looked at him, then looked at each other. A silent conversation between the two occurred, one which Steeljaw wasn’t privy to. He could only glean so much from the minimalist movements of his siblings.
After a couple of minutes, Sharpclaw huffed, an amused smile making her face light up, and shook her head gently.
“It’s astounding how someone who can be as smart as our brother can also be so stupid.”
“I concur, dear sister,” Phantomjaw agreed, placing a claw atop his chestplate.
Instead of getting angry, because this is a normal thing, his siblings ganging up on him, Steeljaw just closed his optics and facepalmed.
“You two are ridiculous.”
He growled, then said, “Fine, I’ll go, but don’t expect me to do anything other than standing around existing.”
“And silently judging everyone and everything around you, got it!” Sharpclaw added with a familiar smirk.
It runs in the family.
Sharpclaw grabbed Steeljaw by the arm and pulled him in the direction of the festival.
“Enjoy yourselves! I’ll see the two of you later!” Phantomjaw called out. When Steeljaw glanced over his shoulder to catch one last glimpse of his brother, the other noticed and did two things: winked, and flicked his claws sideways, followed by a quick thumbs-up.
Steeljaw blinked. He recognized that signal. It stood for “If you want to cause a bit of havoc, don’t worry, I’ve got your flank”. Steeljaw almost laughed, but he didn’t want to alert Sharpclaw and be reprimanded by her, so he kept it to himself.
That did eventually happen, but it was at the end of the day, and to their fortune, nobody was injured. Scared out of their minds, yes, but physically, perfectly fine. After “taking care of things” – as in making sure any evidence of his brother’s involvement in these “accidents” was erased from existence – Phantomjaw joined his siblings at the outskirts of the city.
“Great job, Steel. You left me with quite the mess today,” Phantomjaw said, but of course there was no frustration to be seen or heard.
“You encouraged him, didn’t you?” Sharpclaw snarled. She shouldn’t be surprised, and honestly, she isn’t, but still… “Why are you two like this?”
“You can’t tell me the results weren’t entertaining,” Steeljaw said, a small smile gracing his face. He knew the answer, but he wanted Sharpclaw to admit it out loud.
A beat.
Then two.
“. . . I guess it was pretty funny when things started going haywire,” Sharpclaw said, maw curling up, exposing her fangs. Her tail perks at the tip and starts to move back and forth. “And when the fountain exploded and covered everyone around it in multicolored energon?”
“Don’t forget the glitter they added to make it extra sparkly,” Steeljaw rasped, grinning widely.
He couldn’t keep it together any longer, nor could his siblings. The three burst out laughing, even when Sharpclaw tackled Phantomjaw and, unsuccessfully, berated him for giving Steeljaw bad ideas. From the sidelines, Steeljaw just watched, content to be in the presence of the only two beings who matter.
He would be lost without them.
A flash.
Steeljaw blinks.
The lights of the amusement park have been shut off, signaling the end of the day.
For the humans.
For Steeljaw, the simple action signals the end of a memory. He closes his optics and puffs a vent of air through his snout.
What am I doing?
He looks up at the midnight sky, where stars now shine uncontested.
I have things to do. I can’t sit here reminiscing forever.
Steeljaw sighs before opting to actually move. He struggles to stand, legs sore from being frozen in the same positions for hours.
I’ve been here too long. Underbite and Quillfire are probably wondering where I am.
He doesn’t think his two remaining subordinates are worried about him, but if they were… are… then what is he supposed to do? Steeljaw can’t remember the last time someone was concerned for him.
That encounter with Sunset – ironically, the one outside of an amusement park – surely doesn’t count. Her words aren’t to be believed, either.
She can’t be trusted. She can’t help you.
But her determination and fiery spirit remind him of Sharpclaw, just a bit.
Steeljaw slows down, and asks himself again.
What am I doing?
He grabs his head and growls. He feels his claws digging into his plating, though not enough to break the surface.
Even if he injures himself, Steeljaw doesn’t think he’ll care, but he isn’t thinking clearly right now.
What is wrong with me? Don’t you dare compare Sharpclaw to some Autobot-loving organic! Why are you even entertaining the possibility that…
Steeljaw doesn’t allow the thought to finish. He can’t.
He needs to distract himself.
He releases his frustration and takes his anger out on everything around him.
Steeljaw doesn’t want to destroy Earth’s nature, but he can’t suppress his rage. He could, but he’d rather not release it around Underbite and Quillfire. He doesn’t want to risk losing them. They’re all he has.
They aren’t Sharpclaw or Phantomjaw. Nobody can ever replace them. But, I suppose, Quillfire and Underbite will do.
The anger and energy rapidly seeps out of Steeljaw’s body. When his actions stall, he regains clarity. The surrounding area is a mess. While he isn’t happy about the damage he caused, he can’t say it wasn’t worth it to lose control and lash out.
Calmly, Steeljaw leaves.
For the time being, his thoughts no longer plague him.
When he returns, Underbite and Quillfire are waiting for him.
“There you are!” Quillfire says, the first to see Steeljaw approaching. He proceeds boldly by asking, “Where were you? We were just about to go looking for you! You weren’t answering our hails or anything!”
Steeljaw stops and blinks, optics dilating slightly in mild surprise.
“You called?”
“Yes…” Quillfire tilts his head, optics narrowing in disquietude. “Are you alright? You should have noticed we tried to contact you.”
Because of his state of mind at the time, Steeljaw didn’t think to check his command line for missed messages. That’ll have to be fixed.
“I’m fine. Simply lost track of time,” Steeljaw says, partly lying. He isn’t going to explain what he was doing that took him so long, and thankfully, the other two cons know better than to press.
“Just don’t scare us like that again,” Quillfire sighs, releasing the tension in his body.
“If you’re gonna ditch us, at least let us know ahead of time,” Underbite says, stepping out from underneath a low-hanging tree branch.
“I’m not ditching either of you,” Steeljaw states, firmly and immediately. The conviction behind his words is not lost on his pack mates, but he doubts either of them believe him.
Why would they?
Steeljaw left them behind in the past.
What has he done to make them want to stick around, threats notwithstanding?
“Why are you two still here?”
The question is out before Steeljaw can stop himself.
Quillfire and Underbite are stunned.
“Wh…What do you mean?” Quillfire stammers.
“You know exactly…” Steeljaw feels emotions bubbling to the surface and promptly bottles them up. He growls and pinches the bridge of his muzzle. “Nevermind. Forget I asked.”
They will not forget.
As long as they don’t bring it up again, Steeljaw doesn’t care.
He couldn’t believe he got out of there.
He expected a few mechs to guard their hard-earned wares, and by “hard-earned” he meant stolen.
He half suspected the police would suddenly show up for a raid, which did happen.
A fire fight broke out, and Steeljaw took the opportunity to grab the exclusive security system – that's too expensive for a commoner like him and his siblings to afford yet too tempting a piece of tech to ignore – and run.
Nobody saw him.
However, what Steeljaw didn't expect was for the place to explode. He was out, but not far enough away to avoid flying shrapnel. He knew he was hit, he just didn't know where.
Not until his siblings got a hold of him.
“Stealing from thieves. Great idea, Steel. A fantastic way to get yourself slagged!” Sharpclaw enunciated her point by pulling the tourniquet around Steeljaw's middle tighter than necessary.
“Careful,” Steeljaw hissed, a claw coming to his abdomen. “I'm still functioning.”
“Debatable,” Sharpclaw grumbled, then swatted Steeljaw's servo away. “And no touching! If you open your wounds, I will leave you to leak out.”
She wouldn't, but just to be on the safe side, Steeljaw listened to his sister and refrained from touching his injuries.
“Do I need to list all the ways your standalone excursion could have gone wrong?” Phantomjaw questioned, standing at the entrance of their shared den with tightly-folded arms and an expression devoid of any level of play. When he's all no-nonsense like this, Steeljaw knows he screwed up.
Didn't mean he was going to sit back and do nothing to defend himself.
“It was worth the risk if securing this device meant an extra level of protection for all of us, and with my knowledge and expertise, I know I can get it working better than the original creators,” Steeljaw argued.
“I understand things are getting worse out there, Steeljaw. Believe me, I see it everyday,” Phantomjaw said, gesturing to the decals on his arms with a flick of his wrist. “I also understand that you want to do your part in keeping the three of us together, but if it means more of what you did today…”
Phantomjaw kneeled in front of Steeljaw, placed his white claws on blue/gray shoulders, and pulled his brother close until they were face-to-face, with nowhere to look but at each other.
“I don't want to bring home news of your grayed-out corpse.”
Steeljaw didn’t shiver. The thought crossed his mind, many times, but he never dwelled on it. Worrying about it would distract him, and distractions can get a mech offlined fast.
“It won't happen,” Steeljaw said. He knew that he wouldn't be able to convince his siblings, but he also knew that they knew that they wouldn't be able to change his mind.
“Idiot,” Sharpclaw huffed.
“You can say that again,” Phantomjaw agreed.
Then they both hit Steeljaw on the back of his head before forcing him to lay down and rest.
Brother and Sister would be pissed to know I never learned my lesson.
Steeljaw dodges blaster shots aimed at him. He found a deposit of energon, which was being excavated by a group of Vehicons. He tried to convince them to let him take some, but they refused. Steeljaw asked why when there was plenty to be shared, but they didn’t answer him.
They’re hiding something, and it’s clearly something important if they’re willing to fight this badly for it.
At least they’re horrible shots. No wonder the Decepticons lost in the end. This is honestly embarrassing.
Steeljaw ignores his own embarrassing losses and focuses on not dying. He leaps and twists and swerves, practically dancing around the cavern with predatory efficiency. He slashes through the Vehicons, guts them, severs their limbs; a glorious yet gory massacre. Steeljaw is enthralled by the experience.
Finally, he is doing something, and nobody is getting in his way.
No moral dilemma, just pure survival.
Steeljaw lunges and tackles a Vehicon to the ground and goes for the throat. He feels the Vehicon thrash wildly under him. He bites down harder, fangs piercing neck cabling. Energon gushes out and marrs his muzzle.
Soon, the Vehicon falls limp. Steeljaw waits a moment before removing himself from the lifeless body. He licks the energon off as he stares at the once living bot.
Sorry, brother, it’s nothing personal. Though you did bring this upon yourself.
*Click*
Ears instantly flick back. The rest of Steeljaw freezes.
Who did he forget?
I thought I took care of all of them.
*BANG*
The survivor shoots, but instead of hitting Steeljaw, the blast flies right past him. Steeljaw doesn’t know how someone could mess up such a clear shot, even a Vehicon, until he turns around and spots three quills embedded in the drone’s leg, back, and head.
Well, whatever is left of the head, anyway.
“Huh, not bad aimin’,” Underbite observes from the ledge where he and Quillfire are positioned.
“Why thank you! I’ve been practicing,” Quillfire happily replies. The two mechs look away from the body to where their leader stands. “Hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but you were taking forever to answer again, so we decided to come find you.”
Steeljaw doesn’t answer. He just had his plating saved by his subordinates. He feels like he should be furious.
After all, what kind of leader can’t protect themselves?
Yet he’s too surprised that they actually came looking for him and, instead of waiting to see him get ambushed, they stepped in and saved him.
I don’t understand. Do they..? I mean… No, they can’t. There’s no way they care.
Idiot.
Agreed.
No no no, not them. Not now.
Steeljaw cannot be hearing his siblings’ voices at a time like this.
What he wouldn’t give to hear them again in real life and not in his head.
“Steeljaw?”
“Thank you,” the addressed mech suddenly blurts out. He fidgets under his subordinates’ shocked gazes and turns away. “Let’s grab whatever we need and leave. I don’t want whoever was running this place to be left with anything.”
The hours pass by in relative silence. As in, no one speaks.
Energon is excavated and loaded onto a hover cart, along with anything else the three deem important.
Steeljaw finds a unique-looking blaster and decides to keep it. He prefers hand-to-hand combat and good old-fashioned subterfuge, but sometimes long-range weaponry can be useful in certain situations. Besides, playing around with it, taking it apart and putting it back together, possibly with some additions, should keep him busy for a while.
He is just about to leave when he realizes that he is standing next to a console. An idea flashes through his processor.
If this is connected… I could…
If the console is connected to a wider system, Steeljaw could tap into a Cybertronian network and maybe…
Maybe he could…
But should he?
Steeljaw doesn’t know if his siblings are…
It’s better, safer, not knowing.
Right?
But he really wants to.
He has to.
He needs to know.
But what if someone finds them?
Steeljaw’s entire frame is tense and trembling.
I can’t. I can’t risk it.
“We’re leaving,” Steeljaw declares, vocalizer strained as he fights his misery.
Their exit is quick and quiet.
The second they are out, Steeljaw blows up the mine.
Quillfire and Underbite don’t question him.
“No matter what, a pack always sticks together. Alone, we’re nothing. Even as three, we make a difference. We survive, we thrive, and one day, we will live life like it was meant to be.”
“. . . Where did you come up with that?”
“He must have had a long day at work if he’s this drunk out of his mind.”
“I am perfectly sober, thank you very much!”
Steeljaw and Sharpclaw doubted it, but they decided to let their brother say whatever he wanted.
Looking back on that memory, Steeljaw wishes he listened to Phantomjaw more often.
Perhaps he can start now.
He looks over from the weapon he is tinkering with at his two pack mates, who are sorting their pilfered horde.
Quillfire and Underbite aren’t much, but they are here.
Steeljaw allows himself a genuine smile before returning to his work.
As much as he would like to take his brother’s words to heart, he has a reputation to uphold around other mechs. He can’t be going soft just yet, if at all.
If it means keeping them around, I suppose I can give them some leeway in increments.
They may get on his nerves at times, but it's either that, or Steeljaw chases them away for good, leaving him alone.
And if he is left alone, he might go insane.
Steeljaw does not want that…
And he knows that Sharpclaw and Phantomjaw wouldn’t want that, either.