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“Our Cybertron: A Sparkfelt Retelling” featured various artists’ works. Many famous figures in the field participated, such as Sunstreaker whose paintings were considered exquisite by laypeople and art critics alike. For this exhibition, he chose a stylized depiction of the Pyramid where Cybertronians originated. The piece, Primordium, which had never been in public optics before, was displayed alongside religious artworks from the Primacy’s private collection. Chief among them was a sculpture called Primus Punishes Twins.
Sunstreaker stood beside his own painting, trying to show off his most flattering angle to cameras. Light from a grand chandelier above gave Sunstreaker’s paint an additional shine, the gold was glittering. A vain mech he was, his platings were polished to perfection for this insignificant event.
“What makes Primordium fit the exhibition’s theme?” asked a boxy minibot who had a camera lens for an optic.
“Given the Pyramid’s importance, I think we all have personal sentiments about it. The stylization is done to get the retelling feels, not a mere image capture,” he rehearsed. If he was right, as he ought to be, his answer would be minimally reported by the press. It was meant to be generic. Nearby, in contrast to Sunstreaker’s behavior, an artist started a physical altercation with two other bots. The crowd around Sunstreaker thinned out a mite from some going to see or cover the fight.
In truth, the painting was deeply personal. While working on it, he was thinking about his twin whose spark distinguished within the Pyramid. The little spark did not get to experience life, be it during the war or peacetime. Sunstreaker mourned, his fight for a better world for his twin rendered worthless by that revelation. It was rather fortunate other Companions provided him support, else he would have fared far worse. Despite being onlined for war, he was grateful his past function had given him people who would stick with him.
Even deep in his musing, his senses were sharp. It was no surprise that he was the first to notice a small bot heading toward him. The others were distracted by an ongoing fight which seemed to escalate and guards were called in, possibly causing lapses in security.
Bracing for a possible assassination attempt, his combat protocols were ready to online. It would not be the first time people wanted to kill a member of the Companions. After the War of the Threefold Spark, they were considered liabilities. Renowned for ruthlessness and brutality, there was no place for them in peacetime (or so they said). Opportunities always showed for those sufficiently motivated, so Sunstreaker did not let his guard down.
Other people were steadfastly oblivious as the would-be assassin ran straight to him, evading people with great agility. Since another possible choice was the lens-for-an-optic bot who was known for tabloid articles, Sunstreaker was the more likely target.
The bot was close enough to discern features now.
The bot was…
A newbuild?
Surely, that was a newbuild or close to it—a red mechling with no mentor in sight.
The lens-optic bot gasped which caused other optics to focus on the newcomer. But it was too late for Sunstreaker, the mechling had his small arms encircling Sunstreaker’s leg.
Instead of injecting him with poison or other nefarious activities, the bot glanced up and smiled. “Did you draw that?” He pointed at Primordium. “It looks amazing!”
“Yes.” Sunstreaker was wrong. This was no assassin, just some wandering youth.
Still, would not his twin be around this age, had that spark survived? It would not be out of the Prime and his cronies’ character to lie to him.
Sunstreaker tentatively opened his side of the bond. Just a bit, he did not want to accidentally kill his twin. Who knew at this point, they might lie about that too.
‘Woah, what’s happening?’
‘This is a twin bond. We’re twins,’ he replied, trying to prevent his elation from leaking into the bond and overwhelming his brother. His anger from suspicions proven correct was momentarily dampened by the fact that his twin was alive.
‘You’re my twin!? Drench never told me I’ve a twin!’ Curiosity tempered by apprehension along with happiness reached him in the bond.
‘…Is that so? I’m Sunstreaker. What’s your designation?’
‘Sideswipe. Nice to meet you, Sunny!’ Sideswipe perked up, then drooped down. ‘Do you think Drench will be mad at me? I didn’t ask him to come here.’ Assuming Drench was the name of his brother’s mentor, no, Sunstreaker did not think Drench would be pleased, not that he would willingly part with his brother anytime soon. It seemed they were kept away from each other on purpose and Drench might be in on whatever this plot was.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll deal with him.’ He doubted Sideswipe had paid a sky-high price for the exhibit’s ticket either. He was the adult one here. He could manage.
Closeby, Primus Punishes Twins was smashed to pieces, a collateral damage from that artist’s escalating fight. People were panicking and screaming on the scene. It was a spectacular diversion, so he asked Sideswipe to leave with him.
They left the exhibition through the back door holding servos.
Even though they should have been allowed to grow up together, Sunstreaker was glad Sideswipe found him.