This is mostly dialogue from a random snippet in time. It's short and was written without much of a point. Draw your own conclusions.



"Foolish child. This is a game to you isn't it?" Rage building.

"Oh yes. Because getting my face smashed in is just sooo much fun." Sarcasm in this voice.

"But you love it don't you? You love the rush. You love the thrill of the battle, of holding another's life in your hands. You enjoy the excitement of looming death. You fight with reckless abandon, fearing no consequence." A pause "You should have been a Decepticon."

"I'm not though, and I don't think that's changing any time soon. I'm actually starting to like the fraggers I work with."

"Do you? Because from what I've observed the feeling is not mutual. You are an outcast feared by your comrades, as you should be. The weak cower in the wake of the strong."

"Really? And all this time I thought they were terrified of my bad jokes. "

Mild anger. "That is the law of nature. That is the natural order. The strong rule, the weak serve. You give this façade of belonging but you don't belong. Not really. They don't respect you. They don't understand what you are: A warrior. A warrior with an unquenchable lust for battle. They are beneath you."

"Uh huh…"

"And deep down your warrior's spark knows it. It knows that attachments are dangerous to a fighter. It weakens them, blinds them, softens their core."

"Dude. I share part of a spark with another mech all Dragon Heart like. It comes with the being a twin business. So since I'm pretty much stuck with the attachment thing anyways, why not expand my boundaries?"

"You despise rules and order. You live for battle. You were built as a weapon. You have anger inside of you. Yes, you hide it well but I can see the rage burning behind your optics. You don't believe in mercy onto those who've done you wrong. You don't get along or agree with any of your so called comrades. They are workers in warrior's armor. You are a weapon."

A pause.

Irritation. "What did you call me?"

"A weapon. Battle ready perfection. Designed for carnage, destruction and death. You are not made for peace. If peace does come about under the Autobot's control where will that leave you? Do you honestly think that you will be able to create a normal, peaceful life? You are a soldier. Fighting is all you can do." Wicked smile.

Narrowed optics. "Says you. I think I've racked up enough material to be a stand up comedian. And if that fails I could work as a Demolition Bot. I've gotten good at breaking things. In fact, tanking things is what I do best! It's possible to channel some of that good old pent up battle energy into something productive you know."

A scoff.

Retorted with a laugh. "What you don't believe me? If that doesn't work I have options. I could go back to being a trader. I was a damn good one before the docks got blown up. Thanks for that by the way."

"You can never go back to normalcy. Not after you've had the taste of battle. The glory of defeating your enemies. The rush is like a drug. One that you'll never quit no matter what you tell yourself."

"So that what's this is all about. You're high and trying to project your battle junkie ways onto me."

A frown. An honest question. "Do you think the Autobots will turn a blind eye to your record and everything you've done? You wouldn't have that problem with the Decepticons. However with the Autobots you'll be lucky if you simply get thrown in jail for the rest of your excruciatingly long life. If at worst they'll put you in front of a firing squad."


"You know I speak the truth."

"Actually, I think you're full of it. I'm not betraying them. I'm an Autobot."

"Are you? Are you really?"

"…Uh, yeah. If the big, red, Autobot insignia on my chest is any indication."

"Why are you an Autobot when your simple existence is a contradiction to everything they stand for?"

A shrug.

Genuine. "They need me."

Rage. "They don't need you! They can barely stand you!"

"Jeez. You make it sound like I'm a leper. I don't have to get along with everyone to have some friends you know."

"You keep telling yourself that. But you know deep down that beneath your jovial façade there is a feeling of complete isolation. You know that no matter how much you attempt to blend in with your comrades that you will always be the odd one out. The one that simply doesn't fit in the picture or the perfect peace loving world that your Prime is foolishly striving for. There's no place for you in the Autobots. I believe your brother realizes this as well."

Firm. "I like them. I want them to keep functioning. Even the annoying ones. It's some weird protective instinct thing I have. Sunny doesn't get that part but he's damn loyal to Prime even if it doesn't always seem that way. We'll never be Decepticons." a pause. "We chose not to be."

"What could you possibly get out of defending those inferiors when you could be conquering them?"

"Why do I have to get something out of it?"

Curious. "You waste your talent protecting that which is not worth protecting."

"Maybe not worth it to you. I get the feeling that you don't understand the whole brothers in arms thing. Go rent Saving Private Ryan."

Mouth in a tight line. "Perhaps you are an Autobot through and through or at least you convinced yourself that you are. You are a fool. You are a fool and your stupidity will only lead you to your doom. You will burn like a common drone with the rest of your so called Autobot kind. If you can not see the light then perhaps my efforts in sparing you are not worth it."

"Resorting back to name calling I see. Well than, since we're done talking, come over here so I can hit you."

"Since you lack the intelligence to give into your nature and join the side that would truly accept you for what you are then I'll at least do you the favor of making this battlefield your grave."


"You are an idiot," Ratchet growled yanking a severed cord in Sideswipe's arm taught.

"So I've been told," Sideswipe laughed weakly.

"You haven't been told enough obviously. Primus, it's like your brain was taken away by social services due to negligence."

"I'm telling you, it wasn't my fault those guys came after Spike! And I don't think hanging around with 'giant alien war machines' as they called us is as bad an influence on a fragile child's mind as they claimed. Besides that was years ago."


"That's not what you were talking about was it? Never mind. What were you saying?" He waved his good hand in a "carry on" motion.

"There's a reason that Prime is the one who fights Megatron. It's so Megatron doesn't slaughter the rest of us. And to try and do it alone? What were you thinking?"

"Sorry. I wasn't aware I broke some code of the battle. I just figured that Prime might want a break from always fighting Megs. I mean do we ever ask the big guy? Maybe he's bored of having the same dance every single battle. Maybe, sometimes, he feels like pummeling Dirge! Do we ever give him the chance to? No! It's always Megatron! I bet it gets old." He paused. "Besides I didn't find him he found me. And we actually had a decent conversation before he blew my arm off."

Sideswipe suddenly was on the receiving end of a withering glare. "And in the end guess who Optimus fought? Megatron! To save you after you got your flippen arm burned off by the Primus forsakened fusion cannon!"

"Why is it always my arm?" Sideswipe asked earnestly.

Ratchet gave an aggravated sigh. "You will be the death of me someday."

"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt," Bluestreak peeked around the door, "but after you finish repairing him can we borrow Sideswipe? We're playing Left 4 Dead and could use another player. Ironhide keeps getting to be the Tank and he's kicking our afts into the next millennia. And Prime makes a really mean Jockey. We keep getting thrown off buildings. Again and again. And we have one player that's an AI and it keeps startling the witches. I really don't like when the witches get startled and neither does Sunstreaker. He keeps yelling at the screen. We really need someone to play the last survivor."

Ratchet contemplated this.

Sideswipe gave him the puppy dog pout.

Ratchet sighed. "Maybe. If I don't kill him first."

"Great! I'll tell the others" And with that Bluestreak disappeared.

Ratchet continued to grumble over the last remaining repair that Sideswipe's arm needed.

"You are an idiot." Ratchet soldered one last gash. "A grade 'A' moron."

"Aw. You know you love me." Sideswipe flexed his arm experimentally. "Thanks, Ratchet."

He got up and went on his way so he could save his comrades from a pixilated hoard of infected humans. As he was leaving he caught something Ratchet probably hadn't meant for him to hear.

"But I'm glad you're our moron." There was a smile in his voice.

Sideswipe grinned and went on his merry way.

Yup. This was what he fought for.

In his opinion it was worth it.