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Description
Title: Reventón
Synopsis: Sunstreaker’s vanity knows no bounds or state limits.
Rating: T, for completely demented humor
Author’s Note: This is based on idea by Sidestreak of DeviantArt, and also features her OC, Velocity.   PLEASE COMMENT BEFORE YOU FAV!!

“There. That one right there.”

“This one?”

“Ugh! No, bro! The one on the last page!”

“Oh…” The red Lamborghini careful turned the paper back over. “This one?”

“…Yes. Yes. Oh, Primus, yes.”

Splayed out across two pages of the magazine was jaded human celebrity surrounded by adoring women, all of them reaching as if to touch him as he lay stretched out upon the hood of a sparkling-shiny sports car.  Pearly white teeth grinned up at the photographer while a tanned hand attached to a muscular and toned arm wiped away at a sweaty brow.  His unbuttoned shirt lay out to reveal an equally tanned, toned and sweaty chest, and his jeans seemed to fight around his lower extremities a little too tightly.  The women all wore clothing in different styles of half-nakedness, and by human standards they all were very beautiful.

Sunstreaker had absolutely no interest in the humans.  What made his processor skip a pulse was the car that the human lay upon.  No, not just a car.  A gorgeous perfection of machinery.  The aerodynamic curves fit around its structure just oh-so-beautifully, the headlights lining up in flawlessly with one another, a back end that screamed power and dominance over anyone left behind in its wake as it exploded forward.  A short text passage on the side listed its performance ratings, promising it to be just as strong and mighty as it looked.

The Lamborghini Reventón.

“…Sunny? Suuuunny? Cybertron to Sunny, are you there?”

Sunstreaker hadn’t realized that he had turned off his optics.  He onlined them and turned towards the side of his bunk to look at Sideswipe, who was staring at him and giggling madly.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry, wanted to make sure you didn’t just have a spark attack or something.  Didn’t mean to interrupt your jack off party…”

“I am not jacking off!”

“Yeah, well, when you’ve got your optics off and hand on your crotchplate…”

Sunstreaker stopped his retort as he felt where his hand was. It hadn’t been there before.  “I-i-it just happened to be sitting there! I haven’t even opened it!”

“Sure, riiiight…”

The yellow Lamborghini scowled at his brother and returned his attention to the magazine.  According to the text there were only twenty of these cars to be released to the public, and ten of them had already been bought by Americans.  His optics scanned over the jet-streamed exterior of the vehicle, so much like his own but yet so different.  He could just imagine the metal underneath his fingers, or better yet, alongside his fingers, molding into the armor plating and around the joints.  He would truly be the most gorgeous being on the planet, and possibly the universe.

“Sideswipe, I want that car.”

“Huh?”

“The Reventón. I want it.”

“…What?! But it’s not even sentient!”

Sunstreaker smacked his brother upside the head.  “As an alt mode, you dolt, not as a bond mate!” he snarled.  Sideswipe rubbed the offended area and glared at him.

“Well, good luck with that, bro.  There’s no way that Optimus is gonna waste Teletraan’s energy to go scan one of these babies.  And there’s only ten of these anywhere we can possibly drive; I don’t feel like begging Skyfire to fly us all the way to Italy.”

“I’ll find one myself.”

“You’ll what?!”

“This human,” Sunstreaker tapped his finger on the celebrity, “is the owner of the one he’s sitting on.  I’ve just got to go to his home, ask to see his vehicles, scan the Reventón, and I’ll be back here before you can say petro-rabbit.”

“You’re just gonna stroll up to him and ask to see his cars?”

“You know how I like to ask, Sideswipe,” he said to his brother with a diabolical grin, which was returned with an almost identical one.  “What’s his name?”

“Let’s see, hang on…..Marco Giovanni.”

“Giovanni. Right.”  Sunstreaker recorded the name and sent a secured query to Teletraan about the human. The supercomputer only needed to process its data for a few astroseconds before sending all of the information it had stored on the celebrity to the Autobot.  His own processors scanned it and stored most of it away while informing him of what was vital: the human’s home address.

A pounding on the door of the twins’ shared room snapped his attention back to reality.  “Sideswipe! Sunstreaker!” Ironhide’s booming voice was muffled by the thick door.  “If ya two are gettin’ oil all over mah car magazines again…”

“Take it easy, ‘Hide!” Sideswipe shouted back.  “We aren’t doing anything but looking!”

“That’s why aye’m worried!”

“Don’t worry; I’m sure Chromia wouldn’t mind cleaning them up if we did!” Sideswipe snickered while Sunstreaker closed the magazine and stood up.  Ironhide cursed at them and grumbled.

“Your shift starts in five minutes, Sideswipe, so ya’ll better get your afts outta there, an’ bring mah magazines with you!”

“Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming…” The red Lamborghini snatched the car magazine out of his brother’s hands.  “Hey, bro, bring me back something from your little road trip, okay?” he said to his twin while he headed for the door.

Sunstreaker cocked his head to the side and smirked.  “I’ll bring you back an even more beautiful me.”

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

“Signor Giovanni, you have a visitor.”

“Grazie, Regina.”  Marco strode by his maid while buttoning up his white cotton shirt, not knowing if he should button it all the way up in case it was a professional calling for a meeting, or leave it halfway open to flap in the breeze in case it was the media, or better yet, a beautiful lady.  He decided on the later; this was his home after all, and if it was his agent or someone important they would have called his cell phone first.  Yes, it must certainly be another adoring fan, hopefully a pretty one.  He quickly checked his teeth in one of the many mirrors lining the hallway of his villa.

The elderly butler was waved off as he approached the door.  “No need, Pablo!” Marco said louder than he needed to, hoping that his strong, Italian-accented voice was heard outside, “I will get it myself!”  The butler nodded; he was used to his employer’s tactics.  Grinning, Macro grabbed the door handle and dramatically thrust it open while leaning with one arm against the doorframe, giving an award-winning smile with all of his shining white teeth.  “Welcome to my humble home!”

…No one was there.  No one, that is, except for a yellow Lamborghini Countach parked unusually close to the door.

Marco’s smile dropped.  “…Is anyone there? Ciao? Anyone?...You may come out; there is no need to be afraid!  For I am,” he raised his hand dramatically in the air, “Marco Giovanni!”

“Yeah, and you’re really noisy for a fleshbag.”

Marco gasped and nearly fell backwards.  “You…you do not have the voice of a beautiful ragazza! Come out now, fiend! Show yourself!”

“Fine.”

The Lamborghini trembled and rumbled.  Mechanoid joints unlike anything that could be manufactured on Earth snapped into place with a well-defined ‘Neeh-aaah-AAA-arrr’ sound as the car grew legs, arms, and finally a head.  Sunstreaker quickly finished up his transformation and knelt down in front of the human, a sinister smirk on his face.

“Now then, Mr. Giovanni, I would like to discuss…”

“Mama Mia!” Marco screamed. “Pablo! Summon the guards, immediately!” The frightened human began moving backwards into his house as he waved on his butler.  Sunstreaker growled and his hand shot out like lightening, grabbing the back of the man’s shirt before he could get out of his reach.  He pulled him out of the doorway and held him a few feet off the ground while the man squirmed around wildly.

“As I was saying, Mr. Giovanni…”

“Aaah! Merda! Merda! Qualcuno mi aiuta!” The human bike-pedaled in the air as he tried to get loose. “Ho bisogno di mio guardie! Mio avvocato! Mio mama!” He waved his arms in hysterics and kicked out everywhere.  If someone was to happen to walk by they would say that Sunstreaker was holding up a frenzied howler monkey.

“What are you babbling about?!” Sunstreaker asked Marco, confused by the horrible screeching noises that the human was making.  His EDP, thinking that it was being queried, whirled to life and immediately began a scan of its database on Earth language.  The Autobot jerked his head in surprise when the EDP’s answer was suddenly displayed within his optics.

Italian.  Spoken by natives or inhabitants of Italy, or a person of Italian descent.

‘What?! But I don’t speak Italian!’ Sunstreaker thought angrily.  ‘Great. The one time I ignore one of Ratchet’s language update patches…’ He studied the gibberish flowing out of the human’s mouth.  Some of the words he recognized, other words he noticed were similar to ones he knew in the English language.  He realized that there was a certain pattern to them, especially at the end. ‘This can’t be that difficult…’ he thought.

“Calm-a down!”  The mech roughly put the human down on the pavement. “Look-a, I just-a need-a to see-a your Lamborghini-a! Is it-a in-a your garage-a?”

From his seat on the ground, Marco’s wide eyes regarded Sunstreaker while his jaw made a few feeble attempts at forming words.  “M-m-m-mio Lamborghini?”

“Yes-a! The Reventón!” Sunstreaker nodded his head vigorously and grinned. ‘That wasn’t so hard!’ he thought.

The human scratched his head feverishly and looked away before turning his eyes back to him. “I am s-sorry, signor, but it is no longer here! M-my agent, he sold it to be used in a movie! It was taken away a few days ago! It’s probably at their set!”

Sunstreaker groaned. “A movie? Aw, fraggit…Where-a is it-a being filmed-a?”

“Ah, somewhere cold, lots of snow and ice.  Somewhere in this country, but very far north.  Very, very cold.  Ah, I know. Alaska!”

“…Alaska?!” The Autobot roared, “What’s a fragging Lamborghini doing in Alaska?!”

“…A movie, I think?”

“No slag, aft-head!”  Sunstreaker transformed back into vehicle mode and spun on the pavement, his tires burning into the ground.  “Thanks-a for-a the help-a!” With that, he shot forward down the driveway, through the gate and out onto the street, leaving a cloud of dirt and leaves behind him.

Still shaking, Marco watched with wide eyes as the Autobot departed from his villa. A sense of extra moisture in his nether regions snapped him out of his shock and forced him to look down.  “Ooh, Mama Mia…Pablo! Bring me a new pair of pants!”

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

After only being on the road for a few minutes, Sunstreaker felt an urgent and worried push against his spark that wasn’t his own.  He mentally sighed; his horrified shock from finding out where his beloved Reventón was must have filtered down through the connection between the twins to Sideswipe, who was probably wondering what had happened to make his brother panic so badly.  While merging into the fast lane and accelerating to double the speed limit, he composed a quick message to his twin.

ark Knight.:

There was a pause, and then a flood of amusement touched with just a bit of agreeing nervousness washed up against him through the connection.  Sideswipe obviously understood what his brother was worried about.  A few seconds later his own messaging comm beeped for attention.

:How far, and how long?:

Sunstreaker had his GPS do a few calculations.  :3,000 miles to Alaska.  2 days.:

Even more amusement filtered through to Sunstreaker.

etro-rabbit.:

Sideswipe muted the bond again.  The yellow Lamborghini revved his engine in annoyance and took off down the road.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Considering that he was a mechanoid being from another planet who really had no interest in posted human speed limits, Sunstreaker was able to arrive at the rural human town in mainland Alaska in only a day and a half.  Spotting a cluster of trailers grouped together on the cliffside of a scenic snowy landscape by the mountains, he transformed and jogged over to the first bundled-up human he could find.  The man was blowing puffs of air into his hands and rubbing them, obviously not used to the cold.

“Hey you,” Sunstreaker said, “who’s in charge of this moving circus?”

The human stared up at him incredulously before pointed to the largest of the trailers.  “The director,” he replied, “Tai McRobinson.  That jack-ass is the one who dragged us to this god-forsaken ice cube…”

The mech grunted his thanks before the human could complain anymore and headed for the trailer.  When he was only a few yards away, the door slammed open, and a heavy-set man wearing a thick fur coat, a matching hat and smoking a cigar stomped out, followed by an entourage of other humans.  The man turned around and began barking orders at the people behind him while walking backwards.

“Todd! Get those cameras set up; I want them all at their stations before nightfall! Linda, you’re on costumes! The lead says her bra itches in the back, find out what’s wrong and fix it! Jimmy, find me a giant nasty alien robot for scene 95! Arnold, where the hell is my coffee?! I’m freezing my ass off out here!”

“Are you Tai McRobinson?”

“Wharg!” The human fell backwards in surprise and landed heavily on the ice.  His employees gasped and crowded around him, trying to help their boss stand up.  Tilting his head back, the man gave an upside-down stare at Sunstreaker.

“Wow! That was fast, Jimmy! I’m giving you a 20% raise! Now then, why can’t you all work like Jimmy here?!” he shouted at his entourage.  Most of them mumbled and shot glares towards a young man who was staring up at the Autobot in awe.

“B-b-but sir, I…”

“Are you Tai McRobinson or not?” Sunstreaker said again loudly.  He hadn’t refueled or recharged once during the long drive, and his very thin patience was already strained.  The man in the fur coat was helped back to his feet and he spun around to face the mech, fur coat whirling at his sides.

“The one and only!” he said just as loudly. “And you,” he pointed at the mech, “are too late!  We already have the part for daredevil vehicle filled; we don’t need anymore Lamborghinis on set.  Though giant nasty alien robot really suits you though! Have you seen human resources yet? Ah, I mean, mechanoid resources? When can I get you to start?”

“I am not a….wait, are you already using the Reventón?!” Sunstreaker gritted his dentals together.  “That car is a thing of beauty, if you even think about putting one scratch on its shell…”

“What? That old thing?” Tai looked honestly taken aback. “No, no, it was too prissy for us to use in this movie.  We got someone else to fill the part.”

“Prissy?!”

“Yep! As soon as it was put on set, I’ve got all these agents all over my back, ‘oh, Tai, don’t scratch the paint….oh, Tai, don’t use it on the dirt roads….oh, Tai, make sure nothing gets in the undercarriage’!  This an action movie, for Pete’s sake! We needed a car with spunk, with life!  One that wasn’t afraid to get down and dirty but could still look like a thing of glory in the mud or after a wax job! The Reventón was not for us!  We found an even better vehicle to use!”

Sunstreaker jolted as a hand suddenly clapped down on his shoulder at the same time his radar beeped for attention.  He whirled around to come face-to-face with an orange and black femme who was grinning at his shocked expression.

“Sunstreaker!” the femme said cheerfully, “I didn’t know you were here! Come to watch me rule Hollywood, have you?”  She took in his road stains usually not present on his armor plating and her smile disappeared as her nose wrinkled. “Primus, what in the Pits happened to you? You smell like slag! Have you been burning oil all day or something?”

“More like a day and a half,” Sunstreaker grumbled while forcefully shrugging the femme’s hand off of his shoulder.  “What in the Pits are you doing here, Velocity?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m starring in a movie!” She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side.  “Outdid that piece of scrap Reventón they had just before I got here.  Is that what you’re looking for, Sunflower? Gonna be as big of a pansy as that slagheap on wheels?”

Sunstreaker growled and clenched his fists together, but before he could advance on the femme Tai ran in front of him and waved for Velocity’s attention, a mixture of pride and exhilaration on his face.

“Velocity, my dear!” the director called out.  “We’ve been waiting for you! Jerry needs you on set down in the valley for the big jump across the canyon!”

“Will do, boss.” Velocity folded down into her alt mode and did a quick doughnut in a fresh pile of snow, causing it to scatter everywhere, but mostly on Sunstreaker.  The yellow Lamborghini snarled and made a grab for her, but her tires caught on the ground under the ice and she shot forward away from him.  Engine roaring and tires squealing, she made a quick turn at the street and hurtled off to what supposedly lead down to the main set.  Sunstreaker shook his head in disbelief as he watched her disappear.

“Why in the unholy Pits would you rather use that crazy-aft femme over the Reventón?!”

“Because she’s better!” Tai snapped, not wanting to hear an insult against is leading-vehicle-lady. “She does all sorts of stunts that we couldn’t risk using the Reventón for, and she has fun doing it!  Heck, we could be doing the same dangerous stunt all day, and she’d always go back to the starting mark and do it again with just as much energy as the first time!  Can’t say the same for my crew!” The last part was directed at the group of humans grumbling and picking themselves up out of the snowdrift they had launched themselves into when Velocity had done a doughnut.

“But, but…you…it…alright, nevermind. You humans in show business are all crazy!”  Sunstreaker threw up his hands in frustration. “Where is the Reventón now?”

“Oh! Since its contract got torn up as soon as we decided not to use it, and since it was already paid for, I sent it to my mother!”

“…Your mother?!”

“Yeah! Poor old thing, can’t get around much anymore in that steam-powered piece of crap she’s had since the dinosaur ages.  Technically the Reventón belongs to me, so I sent it to her as a gift!”

Sunstreaker groaned again.  “Alright.  Where does she live?”

“Where all the other retired people go. Florida.”

For less than a nanosecond, the Autobot’s subprocesses took on sentient qualities.  It took a moment for the mech’s GPS to calculate the distance from his current location to the addresses of a Mrs. McRobinson, and when it did, his processors where so horrified by the answer that they refused to accept it at first, believing that it must be an error.  The GPS insisted that it was right, and when the processors grudging relayed the answer to his conscious spark, they flinched as it flew into a rage and nearly short-circuited several neural wirings.

“WHAT?!”

Sunstreaker transformed and spun around in the snow before zooming back onto a southbound road.  Tai watched him in mild amusement.

“Darn.  And he would have made such a great giant nasty alien robot.”

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Bumblebee glanced out of the corner of his optic at Sideswipe when the red Lamborghini gasped and sat up straight in his seat.  “Sideswipe? You okay over there?” the yellow minobot asked, honestly worried about his fellow Autobot.

Sideswipe’s wide optics narrowed and a chuckle escaped his vocalizer.  “I think I just felt a disturbance in the Force.”

Bumblebee stared at him for a few seconds before shaking his head and returning the console he was monitoring.  Sideswipe, meanwhile, sent another ‘nudge’ to his brother’s spark, and received a message shortly afterwards.

:Change of plans:

Sideswipe rolled his optics. :How much longer?:

:4,700 miles. 3 more days:

Bumblebee’s head shot up again when Sideswipe randomly began howling with laughter.  His amusement must have filtered back to Sunstreaker because he felt a surge of anger from his twin before the bond was curtly muted again.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Now, having gone for almost a week without a proper refuel and rest, and added on that Florida’s humidity in the summer would make any human or Cybertronian cranky, Sunstreaker arrived at the house belonging to a Mrs. McRobinson ready to tear the old lady’s head off her shoulders if she didn’t have the Reventón ready for him to scan.  Unfortunately for him, after an incident involving a preschooler, crayons and Sunstreaker’s passenger-side door, Prowl had laid down strict rules regarding the generally weaker human population of the planet, and tough disciplinary action against anyone who would break them, harsh even by Prowl’s standards.  One particular statement banned ripping a human’s head off their shoulders.  Nevertheless, that didn’t stop Sunstreaker from rapping on the wall next to her front door hard enough to leave a crack.

“Mrs. McRobinson?! Are you in there?! I need to speak with you right fragging now!!”

“Jeepers creepers!” came an elderly woman’s voice from inside the house. “My, you are a loud one, aren’t you? Coming, dearie, I’m coming!”  The door opened slowly, and an old woman with curly white hair and a puckered face stepped onto the front porch.  Baggy wrinkles surrounded her eyes, so much that even Sunstreaker’s finely-tuned optics couldn’t find the pupils underneath them.  He knelt down so that the woman could see the death glare on his faceplates, but she continued to smile sweetly at his shinguard, which was closest to her own face.

“Hello there, dearie! My, my, don’t you look just so oh-so pretty in that little yellow sundress!”

Sunstreaker mouth opened to deliver the furious demand for the Reventón that he’d been working on during the trip back from Alaska, but he held it open for a few more moments in surprise as he took in the elderly human’s words.  “…S-sundress?” he stuttered.

“Oh, when I was a young girl, I used to have a sundress just like that!  I’d wear it everyone, except to Sunday school.  The nuns were not big fans of yellow dresses, you see.”

“…Nuns?”

“Yes, nuns, dearie! Back in my day the nuns used to teach Sunday school! I used to have a little robin’s-egg-blue dress that I’d wear, with a white bonnet and clean white gloves!  My mother always said you should look your best when attending Sunday school.  We used to go every, ah, what day was it, Sunday! Yes, Sunday!”

“…Sunday?”

“Yes, that’s right, every Sunday! And that was with regular school during the week.  Oh, but it used to be so glorious, we used to…oh dear, I’m keeping you waiting, aren’t I? Did you bring my cookies today?”

“…Cookies?!”  Sunstreaker pounded his fist into the ground, making the window’s rattle and several ceramic gnomes in Mrs. McRobinson’s garden fall over.  “Why the frag would I give you cookies?!” he snarled.

“Because I paid for them, dearie!” the old woman said cheerfully, not noticing the miniature earthquake that shook the neighborhood.  “My memory isn’t what it used to be, but I do remember that on Monday the 18th, I paid twenty-four dollars and ninety-three cents for five boxes of Girl Scout cookies! Now, I’ll understand if you didn’t bring them today, but then I’ll have to write a strongly-worded letter to your troop leader about delivering your cookies on time. You should uphold your troop’s reputation and be sure to bring them when you say that you will deliver them!”

“This is fragging ridiculous!” Sunstreaker moaned, clutching his headfins and feeling ready to pull them out.  His processors whirled, trying to figure out a solution to communicating with an old woman who apparently thought he was a young Girl Scout.  He swore that he could feel steam escaping between his fingers from his headfins. Maybe it was because he was exhausted and his neural processes strained, maybe it was because he had fried a logic chip somewhere during the long drive, or maybe it was his twin somehow influencing his tired spark, but the answer that he came up with was so unlike him and so bizarre, and yet he decided it was crazy enough to work.

“You want cookies?!” The mech scooped up some wet soil from the human’s garden, crumpled it in his hand, and dumped it into her palm.  “There’s your cookies!”

Mrs. McRobinson’s wrinkled old nose crinkled as she felt the gooey substance running through her fingers.  “Oh my! They melted! Dear, oh, dear…”

“Now, if you please, Mrs. McRobinson, where do you keep the car that your son gave you?”

“Oh! That thing? Well, I’m giving it to my cousin in Wisconsin.  I like my steam-powered car, you see.  Eighty-three years I’ve had it, and it hasn’t failed me yet.”

Sunstreaker visibly wilted.  “…Please tell me you’re joking.  It’s not all the way Wisconsin, is it?”  His chassis was screaming in pain, he had only eaten concentrated emergency energon packets for nearly a week, and to top everything off, the long road trip had chipped away pieces of his paint.  He didn’t think he could make it all the way back north to Wisconsin. Not for the Reventón, not for anything.

“Well, no dearie.  The truck just picked it up early this morning.”

The Autobot’s mood did a 180 spin.  His head snapped up, optics shining brightly with a hopefully glimmer, and a wide smile that certainly did not belong on the face of a mech like him.  “Really?!”

“Yes, yes.  They’re taking the interstate back up, I think.”

Sunstreaker immediately transformed back into his vehicle mode.  His quarry was probably still in this state, all he needed to do was to catch up to the truck carrying it.  His engine revved in excitement. “Thanks-a for-a the help-a!” he shouted before tearing down the human’s driveway and onto the street.

Mrs. McRobinson waved with her free hand at the retreating Lamborghini.  “You’re very welcome, darling.  How sweet, she speaks Italian!”

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

For hours, Sunstreaker weaved in and out of traffic as he searched for the truck hauling his beloved Reventón to Wisconsin.  Frightened drivers swerved out of the way as a yellow Lamborghini came hurtling towards them; he only stayed in the marked lane about half the time.  He passed truck after truck that were carrying all sorts of goods and supplies, but none of them big enough to carry the Reventón.  Finally, when the sun was high in the sky, he spotted an eighteen-wheeler with a trailer that had a fold-up car ramp on the back.

The Lamborghini accelerated into the fast lane and pulled up alongside the cabin of the truck.  His alt mode was too low to the ground to see the human driving, but that didn’t matter to him.  “You! Fleshbag! Pull over right now!” he shouted.

The truck decelerated a little bit, but didn’t stop.  Sunstreaker tapped his brakes so he would stay next to it. “Fraggit, you really don’t want to mess with me right now, human!” he snarled. “Pull over! Now!”

“…Sunstreaker? What are you doing here?”

If Sunstreaker had been in bipedal mode, his optics would have probably bulged and popped out of their sockets. “O-optimus Prime?”

“Yes, Sunstreaker,” the truck answered, “I’m in the middle of something right now.  Sideswipe’s been telling everyone that you were off on some sort of religious retreat that only you two knew about.  He’s been pulling your shift as well as his own since you left.  What have you been up to in the meantime?”

‘Aw frag...’  Sunstreaker knew from previous experience that his commander could pick up on any lies that his troops fed him.  And he’d already made himself known, so he couldn’t run away.  He sighed and stalled for time as he tried to figure out how to explain himself to his leader.  “Ah…sir…I…uh…you wouldn’t happen to be carrying a non-sentient car in your trailer, would you?”

Optimus paused as he considered the question.  “Yes I am, actually.  An old woman is dedicating this car to her cousin’s museum in Wisconsin.  There’s only nineteen other cars in the world like it.  Her cousin would like to put it on display so that the rest of the public may enjoy it.”

The Reventón.  It had to be it.   Sunstreaker chose his words carefully before responding.  “Sir…if I may…would I be able to scan that car?”

The truck’s engine rumbled as Optimus chuckled.  “Honestly, Sunstreaker, I was wondering when you’d come looking for it. I thought Mrs. McRobinson’s house would be the first place you’d go.”

“You did?” The Lamborghini felt like smacking himself in the face. “Yeah, well, I’ve had a bit of a road trip on the way, sir.  So…you’ll let me scan it?”

“Absolutely.”  There was a whirring noise as the door on the back of Optimus’s trailer slid opened.  Sunstreaker immediately moved behind him, terrified that the car would slide out of the trailer and smash all over the road.  Thankfully, either Optimus or one of the humans had taken the time to secure the vehicle tightly to the floor.  The Reventón sat with its front bumper facing the door, and its headlights seemed to shine with greeting when it reflected the sunlight at Sunstreaker.

‘Yes, Primus, yes, yes…’

His scanning protocols initiated, examining every smooth curve of the vehicle, its flawless structure, its sparkling rims, the cool leather seats…Sunstreaker thought he might overload from the waves of information his procesors were feeding to him.  The metal of his own hood began to bend like water, copying the shape of the car in front of him and tweaking it here and there to make it his own.  Joints and servos whirled as they reconfigured themselves to work with the new alt mode.  His spark fluttered as it began programming new transformation codes into every part of his body.

In only a few seconds, a gleaming yellow Lamborghini Reventón was following behind Optimus Prime.

“So? How is it?” Optimus asked, obviously smiling somewhere within his alt mode.

“It’s…perfection…just…perfection,” Sunstreaker heard himself say.  The wind was gliding past his smooth exterior, tight wheels were gripping the ground, the engine purring like a content tiger.  It was like heaven on Cybertron to the Lamborghini.  He didn’t know how to describe it, it was just so…

WARNING. WARNING. DECEPTICON ENERGY SIGNATURES FOUND.

:Stunticons!: Optimus commed to him.  :Less than a mile behind us. Just stay where you are! They’re not looking for us; hopefully they won’t notice us in alt mode!:

For once, Sunstreaker wasn’t looking forward to a fight, and did as he was told.  He was enjoying his new alt mode too much to risk destroying it right now.  Optimus’s trailer door hissed closed, and the Lamborghini silently followed after him, inwardly cursing at the Decepticons and their creators.  Meanwhile, the group of five Stunticons swerved in and out of traffic as they flew down the road, unwittingly surrounding the two Autobots in just a few minutes.

“Fraggit!” Wildrider’s voice could be heard above the roaring engines.  “Boss, I swear, two Autobot signatures were on my radar just a breem ago!”

“You better be right!” Motormaster shouted at him. “Stunticons! Spread out and find them! Destroy them when you do!”

“In this traffic? We’ll never find anybody,” Dead End moaned. “It’s hot, it’s humid, either my oil is going to boil and explode or I’m going to rust…”

“Hey! I see one!” Breakdown yelled. “He’s right over there! Behind the tractor-trailer!”

Irritated, Drag Strip bumped his comrade’s side. “How the frag can you be so sure?!”

“Duh, Drag Strip! How many yellow Lamborghini Reventóns do you see driving on the highway?!”

Sunstreaker had only time to think ‘Oh, fragging slag,’ before Motormaster transformed and kicked his rear end, sending him flying off the road and into the woods.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” Prowl said sharply as Ratchet closed the panel on Sunstreaker’s chestplate.  The yellow Lamborghini, though, was too preoccupied with his feverish waxing on his armor plating to notice the Second-in-Command’s scowl.

“They ruined it! Those fragging Stunticons! They ruined my brand-new alt mode! I’ll destroy them all! Optimus, permission to go to the Decepticon base and rip out every one of their sparks, please!”

“Denied,” Optimus said from the doorway.  His faceguard hid the grin running across his faceplates.  Next to him, Sideswipe snickered at his brother.

“Bro, you said you were gonna bring back a more beautiful self.  You lied to me! You came back a scrapheap!”

“Just shut the frag up, Sideswipe!” Sunstreaker roared at him.  “I really don’t need your slag right now!”

Sideswipe huffed in mock insult.  “Well, fine then.  If you’re gonna be that way, I’ll just leave.”  With that, Sideswipe swiftly turned around on his heel and folded down into his alt mode.  Sunstreaker was about to return to his waxing, but he stopped and did a double-take at his brother.

“What…wait…how did…”

“I just scanned you while Ratchet was fixing your sorry aft.”

Somewhere else on the Ark, Jazz’s sensitive audios snapped at the screech that reverberated down the Ark’s hallways, and outside, the local wildlife suddenly fled from the mountain.  Optimus dove out of the way as Sunstreaker launched himself at his brother, but the red Lamborghini Reventón used his new ultra-powerful engine to burst himself forward and out of harm’s way.  His twin hit the ground, transformed, and accelerated after his brother, screaming death threats against him and his creators, one of which Sideswipe could be heard answering “They’re your creators too!”.

“Hey! No speeding in the halls!” Prowl charged at the door before transforming into his police car alt mode in midair and raced off after them, emergency lights flashing and siren blaring.  Optimus picked himself up off the floor and watched his Second-in-Command go, just slightly amused by Prowl’s attempts to catch up with the twins.

“Maybe it’s time that Prowl updated his alt mode as well.”

“Oh?” Ratchet looked up from where he was putting his tools away.  He was too familiar with the twins’ energetic escapades to be bothered by them once they were out of his medbay.

“Ratchet, they don’t build Datsun parts anymore, and I heard that Italians use certain Lamborghinis as interceptor police cars.  I’m sure Prowl will…”

It took all of his battle experience from being leader of the Autobots and the holder of the Matrix of Leadership to be able to dodge the wrench that came flying at his head.

:D (Big Grin) — Description
Title: Reventón
Synopsis: Sunstreaker’s vanity knows no bounds or state limits.
Rating: T, for completely demented humor
Author’s Note: This is based on idea by Sidestreak of DeviantArt, and also features her OC, Velocity.   PLEASE COMMENT BEFORE YOU FAV!!

“There. That one right there.”

“This one?”

“Ugh! No, bro! The one on the last page!”

“Oh…” The red Lamborghini careful turned the paper back over. “This one?”

“…Yes. Yes. Oh, Primus, yes.”

Splayed out across two pages of the magazine was jaded human celebrity surrounded by adoring women, all of them reaching as if to touch him as he lay stretched out upon the hood of a sparkling-shiny sports car.  Pearly white teeth grinned up at the photographer while a tanned hand attached to a muscular and toned arm wiped away at a sweaty brow.  His unbuttoned shirt lay out to reveal an equally tanned, toned and sweaty chest, and his jeans seemed to fight around his lower extremities a little too tightly.  The women all wore clothing in different styles of half-nakedness, and by human standards they all were very beautiful.

Sunstreaker had absolutely no interest in the humans.  What made his processor skip a pulse was the car that the human lay upon.  No, not just a car.  A gorgeous perfection of machinery.  The aerodynamic curves fit around its structure just oh-so-beautifully, the headlights lining up in flawlessly with one another, a back end that screamed power and dominance over anyone left behind in its wake as it exploded forward.  A short text passage on the side listed its performance ratings, promising it to be just as strong and mighty as it looked.

The Lamborghini Reventón.

“…Sunny? Suuuunny? Cybertron to Sunny, are you there?”

Sunstreaker hadn’t realized that he had turned off his optics.  He onlined them and turned towards the side of his bunk to look at Sideswipe, who was staring at him and giggling madly.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry, wanted to make sure you didn’t just have a spark attack or something.  Didn’t mean to interrupt your jack off party…”

“I am not jacking off!”

“Yeah, well, when you’ve got your optics off and hand on your crotchplate…”

Sunstreaker stopped his retort as he felt where his hand was. It hadn’t been there before.  “I-i-it just happened to be sitting there! I haven’t even opened it!”

“Sure, riiiight…”

The yellow Lamborghini scowled at his brother and returned his attention to the magazine.  According to the text there were only twenty of these cars to be released to the public, and ten of them had already been bought by Americans.  His optics scanned over the jet-streamed exterior of the vehicle, so much like his own but yet so different.  He could just imagine the metal underneath his fingers, or better yet, alongside his fingers, molding into the armor plating and around the joints.  He would truly be the most gorgeous being on the planet, and possibly the universe.

“Sideswipe, I want that car.”

“Huh?”

“The Reventón. I want it.”

“…What?! But it’s not even sentient!”

Sunstreaker smacked his brother upside the head.  “As an alt mode, you dolt, not as a bond mate!” he snarled.  Sideswipe rubbed the offended area and glared at him.

“Well, good luck with that, bro.  There’s no way that Optimus is gonna waste Teletraan’s energy to go scan one of these babies.  And there’s only ten of these anywhere we can possibly drive; I don’t feel like begging Skyfire to fly us all the way to Italy.”

“I’ll find one myself.”

“You’ll what?!”

“This human,” Sunstreaker tapped his finger on the celebrity, “is the owner of the one he’s sitting on.  I’ve just got to go to his home, ask to see his vehicles, scan the Reventón, and I’ll be back here before you can say petro-rabbit.”

“You’re just gonna stroll up to him and ask to see his cars?”

“You know how I like to ask, Sideswipe,” he said to his brother with a diabolical grin, which was returned with an almost identical one.  “What’s his name?”

“Let’s see, hang on…..Marco Giovanni.”

“Giovanni. Right.”  Sunstreaker recorded the name and sent a secured query to Teletraan about the human. The supercomputer only needed to process its data for a few astroseconds before sending all of the information it had stored on the celebrity to the Autobot.  His own processors scanned it and stored most of it away while informing him of what was vital: the human’s home address.

A pounding on the door of the twins’ shared room snapped his attention back to reality.  “Sideswipe! Sunstreaker!” Ironhide’s booming voice was muffled by the thick door.  “If ya two are gettin’ oil all over mah car magazines again…”

“Take it easy, ‘Hide!” Sideswipe shouted back.  “We aren’t doing anything but looking!”

“That’s why aye’m worried!”

“Don’t worry; I’m sure Chromia wouldn’t mind cleaning them up if we did!” Sideswipe snickered while Sunstreaker closed the magazine and stood up.  Ironhide cursed at them and grumbled.

“Your shift starts in five minutes, Sideswipe, so ya’ll better get your afts outta there, an’ bring mah magazines with you!”

“Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming…” The red Lamborghini snatched the car magazine out of his brother’s hands.  “Hey, bro, bring me back something from your little road trip, okay?” he said to his twin while he headed for the door.

Sunstreaker cocked his head to the side and smirked.  “I’ll bring you back an even more beautiful me.”

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

“Signor Giovanni, you have a visitor.”

“Grazie, Regina.”  Marco strode by his maid while buttoning up his white cotton shirt, not knowing if he should button it all the way up in case it was a professional calling for a meeting, or leave it halfway open to flap in the breeze in case it was the media, or better yet, a beautiful lady.  He decided on the later; this was his home after all, and if it was his agent or someone important they would have called his cell phone first.  Yes, it must certainly be another adoring fan, hopefully a pretty one.  He quickly checked his teeth in one of the many mirrors lining the hallway of his villa.

The elderly butler was waved off as he approached the door.  “No need, Pablo!” Marco said louder than he needed to, hoping that his strong, Italian-accented voice was heard outside, “I will get it myself!”  The butler nodded; he was used to his employer’s tactics.  Grinning, Macro grabbed the door handle and dramatically thrust it open while leaning with one arm against the doorframe, giving an award-winning smile with all of his shining white teeth.  “Welcome to my humble home!”

…No one was there.  No one, that is, except for a yellow Lamborghini Countach parked unusually close to the door.

Marco’s smile dropped.  “…Is anyone there? Ciao? Anyone?...You may come out; there is no need to be afraid!  For I am,” he raised his hand dramatically in the air, “Marco Giovanni!”

“Yeah, and you’re really noisy for a fleshbag.”

Marco gasped and nearly fell backwards.  “You…you do not have the voice of a beautiful ragazza! Come out now, fiend! Show yourself!”

“Fine.”

The Lamborghini trembled and rumbled.  Mechanoid joints unlike anything that could be manufactured on Earth snapped into place with a well-defined ‘Neeh-aaah-AAA-arrr’ sound as the car grew legs, arms, and finally a head.  Sunstreaker quickly finished up his transformation and knelt down in front of the human, a sinister smirk on his face.

“Now then, Mr. Giovanni, I would like to discuss…”

“Mama Mia!” Marco screamed. “Pablo! Summon the guards, immediately!” The frightened human began moving backwards into his house as he waved on his butler.  Sunstreaker growled and his hand shot out like lightening, grabbing the back of the man’s shirt before he could get out of his reach.  He pulled him out of the doorway and held him a few feet off the ground while the man squirmed around wildly.

“As I was saying, Mr. Giovanni…”

“Aaah! Merda! Merda! Qualcuno mi aiuta!” The human bike-pedaled in the air as he tried to get loose. “Ho bisogno di mio guardie! Mio avvocato! Mio mama!” He waved his arms in hysterics and kicked out everywhere.  If someone was to happen to walk by they would say that Sunstreaker was holding up a frenzied howler monkey.

“What are you babbling about?!” Sunstreaker asked Marco, confused by the horrible screeching noises that the human was making.  His EDP, thinking that it was being queried, whirled to life and immediately began a scan of its database on Earth language.  The Autobot jerked his head in surprise when the EDP’s answer was suddenly displayed within his optics.

Italian.  Spoken by natives or inhabitants of Italy, or a person of Italian descent.

‘What?! But I don’t speak Italian!’ Sunstreaker thought angrily.  ‘Great. The one time I ignore one of Ratchet’s language update patches…’ He studied the gibberish flowing out of the human’s mouth.  Some of the words he recognized, other words he noticed were similar to ones he knew in the English language.  He realized that there was a certain pattern to them, especially at the end. ‘This can’t be that difficult…’ he thought.

“Calm-a down!”  The mech roughly put the human down on the pavement. “Look-a, I just-a need-a to see-a your Lamborghini-a! Is it-a in-a your garage-a?”

From his seat on the ground, Marco’s wide eyes regarded Sunstreaker while his jaw made a few feeble attempts at forming words.  “M-m-m-mio Lamborghini?”

“Yes-a! The Reventón!” Sunstreaker nodded his head vigorously and grinned. ‘That wasn’t so hard!’ he thought.

The human scratched his head feverishly and looked away before turning his eyes back to him. “I am s-sorry, signor, but it is no longer here! M-my agent, he sold it to be used in a movie! It was taken away a few days ago! It’s probably at their set!”

Sunstreaker groaned. “A movie? Aw, fraggit…Where-a is it-a being filmed-a?”

“Ah, somewhere cold, lots of snow and ice.  Somewhere in this country, but very far north.  Very, very cold.  Ah, I know. Alaska!”

“…Alaska?!” The Autobot roared, “What’s a fragging Lamborghini doing in Alaska?!”

“…A movie, I think?”

“No slag, aft-head!”  Sunstreaker transformed back into vehicle mode and spun on the pavement, his tires burning into the ground.  “Thanks-a for-a the help-a!” With that, he shot forward down the driveway, through the gate and out onto the street, leaving a cloud of dirt and leaves behind him.

Still shaking, Marco watched with wide eyes as the Autobot departed from his villa. A sense of extra moisture in his nether regions snapped him out of his shock and forced him to look down.  “Ooh, Mama Mia…Pablo! Bring me a new pair of pants!”

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

After only being on the road for a few minutes, Sunstreaker felt an urgent and worried push against his spark that wasn’t his own.  He mentally sighed; his horrified shock from finding out where his beloved Reventón was must have filtered down through the connection between the twins to Sideswipe, who was probably wondering what had happened to make his brother panic so badly.  While merging into the fast lane and accelerating to double the speed limit, he composed a quick message to his twin.

ark Knight.:

There was a pause, and then a flood of amusement touched with just a bit of agreeing nervousness washed up against him through the connection.  Sideswipe obviously understood what his brother was worried about.  A few seconds later his own messaging comm beeped for attention.

:How far, and how long?:

Sunstreaker had his GPS do a few calculations.  :3,000 miles to Alaska.  2 days.:

Even more amusement filtered through to Sunstreaker.

etro-rabbit.:

Sideswipe muted the bond again.  The yellow Lamborghini revved his engine in annoyance and took off down the road.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Considering that he was a mechanoid being from another planet who really had no interest in posted human speed limits, Sunstreaker was able to arrive at the rural human town in mainland Alaska in only a day and a half.  Spotting a cluster of trailers grouped together on the cliffside of a scenic snowy landscape by the mountains, he transformed and jogged over to the first bundled-up human he could find.  The man was blowing puffs of air into his hands and rubbing them, obviously not used to the cold.

“Hey you,” Sunstreaker said, “who’s in charge of this moving circus?”

The human stared up at him incredulously before pointed to the largest of the trailers.  “The director,” he replied, “Tai McRobinson.  That jack-ass is the one who dragged us to this god-forsaken ice cube…”

The mech grunted his thanks before the human could complain anymore and headed for the trailer.  When he was only a few yards away, the door slammed open, and a heavy-set man wearing a thick fur coat, a matching hat and smoking a cigar stomped out, followed by an entourage of other humans.  The man turned around and began barking orders at the people behind him while walking backwards.

“Todd! Get those cameras set up; I want them all at their stations before nightfall! Linda, you’re on costumes! The lead says her bra itches in the back, find out what’s wrong and fix it! Jimmy, find me a giant nasty alien robot for scene 95! Arnold, where the hell is my coffee?! I’m freezing my ass off out here!”

“Are you Tai McRobinson?”

“Wharg!” The human fell backwards in surprise and landed heavily on the ice.  His employees gasped and crowded around him, trying to help their boss stand up.  Tilting his head back, the man gave an upside-down stare at Sunstreaker.

“Wow! That was fast, Jimmy! I’m giving you a 20% raise! Now then, why can’t you all work like Jimmy here?!” he shouted at his entourage.  Most of them mumbled and shot glares towards a young man who was staring up at the Autobot in awe.

“B-b-but sir, I…”

“Are you Tai McRobinson or not?” Sunstreaker said again loudly.  He hadn’t refueled or recharged once during the long drive, and his very thin patience was already strained.  The man in the fur coat was helped back to his feet and he spun around to face the mech, fur coat whirling at his sides.

“The one and only!” he said just as loudly. “And you,” he pointed at the mech, “are too late!  We already have the part for daredevil vehicle filled; we don’t need anymore Lamborghinis on set.  Though giant nasty alien robot really suits you though! Have you seen human resources yet? Ah, I mean, mechanoid resources? When can I get you to start?”

“I am not a….wait, are you already using the Reventón?!” Sunstreaker gritted his dentals together.  “That car is a thing of beauty, if you even think about putting one scratch on its shell…”

“What? That old thing?” Tai looked honestly taken aback. “No, no, it was too prissy for us to use in this movie.  We got someone else to fill the part.”

“Prissy?!”

“Yep! As soon as it was put on set, I’ve got all these agents all over my back, ‘oh, Tai, don’t scratch the paint….oh, Tai, don’t use it on the dirt roads….oh, Tai, make sure nothing gets in the undercarriage’!  This an action movie, for Pete’s sake! We needed a car with spunk, with life!  One that wasn’t afraid to get down and dirty but could still look like a thing of glory in the mud or after a wax job! The Reventón was not for us!  We found an even better vehicle to use!”

Sunstreaker jolted as a hand suddenly clapped down on his shoulder at the same time his radar beeped for attention.  He whirled around to come face-to-face with an orange and black femme who was grinning at his shocked expression.

“Sunstreaker!” the femme said cheerfully, “I didn’t know you were here! Come to watch me rule Hollywood, have you?”  She took in his road stains usually not present on his armor plating and her smile disappeared as her nose wrinkled. “Primus, what in the Pits happened to you? You smell like slag! Have you been burning oil all day or something?”

“More like a day and a half,” Sunstreaker grumbled while forcefully shrugging the femme’s hand off of his shoulder.  “What in the Pits are you doing here, Velocity?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m starring in a movie!” She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side.  “Outdid that piece of scrap Reventón they had just before I got here.  Is that what you’re looking for, Sunflower? Gonna be as big of a pansy as that slagheap on wheels?”

Sunstreaker growled and clenched his fists together, but before he could advance on the femme Tai ran in front of him and waved for Velocity’s attention, a mixture of pride and exhilaration on his face.

“Velocity, my dear!” the director called out.  “We’ve been waiting for you! Jerry needs you on set down in the valley for the big jump across the canyon!”

“Will do, boss.” Velocity folded down into her alt mode and did a quick doughnut in a fresh pile of snow, causing it to scatter everywhere, but mostly on Sunstreaker.  The yellow Lamborghini snarled and made a grab for her, but her tires caught on the ground under the ice and she shot forward away from him.  Engine roaring and tires squealing, she made a quick turn at the street and hurtled off to what supposedly lead down to the main set.  Sunstreaker shook his head in disbelief as he watched her disappear.

“Why in the unholy Pits would you rather use that crazy-aft femme over the Reventón?!”

“Because she’s better!” Tai snapped, not wanting to hear an insult against is leading-vehicle-lady. “She does all sorts of stunts that we couldn’t risk using the Reventón for, and she has fun doing it!  Heck, we could be doing the same dangerous stunt all day, and she’d always go back to the starting mark and do it again with just as much energy as the first time!  Can’t say the same for my crew!” The last part was directed at the group of humans grumbling and picking themselves up out of the snowdrift they had launched themselves into when Velocity had done a doughnut.

“But, but…you…it…alright, nevermind. You humans in show business are all crazy!”  Sunstreaker threw up his hands in frustration. “Where is the Reventón now?”

“Oh! Since its contract got torn up as soon as we decided not to use it, and since it was already paid for, I sent it to my mother!”

“…Your mother?!”

“Yeah! Poor old thing, can’t get around much anymore in that steam-powered piece of crap she’s had since the dinosaur ages.  Technically the Reventón belongs to me, so I sent it to her as a gift!”

Sunstreaker groaned again.  “Alright.  Where does she live?”

“Where all the other retired people go. Florida.”

For less than a nanosecond, the Autobot’s subprocesses took on sentient qualities.  It took a moment for the mech’s GPS to calculate the distance from his current location to the addresses of a Mrs. McRobinson, and when it did, his processors where so horrified by the answer that they refused to accept it at first, believing that it must be an error.  The GPS insisted that it was right, and when the processors grudging relayed the answer to his conscious spark, they flinched as it flew into a rage and nearly short-circuited several neural wirings.

“WHAT?!”

Sunstreaker transformed and spun around in the snow before zooming back onto a southbound road.  Tai watched him in mild amusement.

“Darn.  And he would have made such a great giant nasty alien robot.”

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Bumblebee glanced out of the corner of his optic at Sideswipe when the red Lamborghini gasped and sat up straight in his seat.  “Sideswipe? You okay over there?” the yellow minobot asked, honestly worried about his fellow Autobot.

Sideswipe’s wide optics narrowed and a chuckle escaped his vocalizer.  “I think I just felt a disturbance in the Force.”

Bumblebee stared at him for a few seconds before shaking his head and returning the console he was monitoring.  Sideswipe, meanwhile, sent another ‘nudge’ to his brother’s spark, and received a message shortly afterwards.

:Change of plans:

Sideswipe rolled his optics. :How much longer?:

:4,700 miles. 3 more days:

Bumblebee’s head shot up again when Sideswipe randomly began howling with laughter.  His amusement must have filtered back to Sunstreaker because he felt a surge of anger from his twin before the bond was curtly muted again.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Now, having gone for almost a week without a proper refuel and rest, and added on that Florida’s humidity in the summer would make any human or Cybertronian cranky, Sunstreaker arrived at the house belonging to a Mrs. McRobinson ready to tear the old lady’s head off her shoulders if she didn’t have the Reventón ready for him to scan.  Unfortunately for him, after an incident involving a preschooler, crayons and Sunstreaker’s passenger-side door, Prowl had laid down strict rules regarding the generally weaker human population of the planet, and tough disciplinary action against anyone who would break them, harsh even by Prowl’s standards.  One particular statement banned ripping a human’s head off their shoulders.  Nevertheless, that didn’t stop Sunstreaker from rapping on the wall next to her front door hard enough to leave a crack.

“Mrs. McRobinson?! Are you in there?! I need to speak with you right fragging now!!”

“Jeepers creepers!” came an elderly woman’s voice from inside the house. “My, you are a loud one, aren’t you? Coming, dearie, I’m coming!”  The door opened slowly, and an old woman with curly white hair and a puckered face stepped onto the front porch.  Baggy wrinkles surrounded her eyes, so much that even Sunstreaker’s finely-tuned optics couldn’t find the pupils underneath them.  He knelt down so that the woman could see the death glare on his faceplates, but she continued to smile sweetly at his shinguard, which was closest to her own face.

“Hello there, dearie! My, my, don’t you look just so oh-so pretty in that little yellow sundress!”

Sunstreaker mouth opened to deliver the furious demand for the Reventón that he’d been working on during the trip back from Alaska, but he held it open for a few more moments in surprise as he took in the elderly human’s words.  “…S-sundress?” he stuttered.

“Oh, when I was a young girl, I used to have a sundress just like that!  I’d wear it everyone, except to Sunday school.  The nuns were not big fans of yellow dresses, you see.”

“…Nuns?”

“Yes, nuns, dearie! Back in my day the nuns used to teach Sunday school! I used to have a little robin’s-egg-blue dress that I’d wear, with a white bonnet and clean white gloves!  My mother always said you should look your best when attending Sunday school.  We used to go every, ah, what day was it, Sunday! Yes, Sunday!”

“…Sunday?”

“Yes, that’s right, every Sunday! And that was with regular school during the week.  Oh, but it used to be so glorious, we used to…oh dear, I’m keeping you waiting, aren’t I? Did you bring my cookies today?”

“…Cookies?!”  Sunstreaker pounded his fist into the ground, making the window’s rattle and several ceramic gnomes in Mrs. McRobinson’s garden fall over.  “Why the frag would I give you cookies?!” he snarled.

“Because I paid for them, dearie!” the old woman said cheerfully, not noticing the miniature earthquake that shook the neighborhood.  “My memory isn’t what it used to be, but I do remember that on Monday the 18th, I paid twenty-four dollars and ninety-three cents for five boxes of Girl Scout cookies! Now, I’ll understand if you didn’t bring them today, but then I’ll have to write a strongly-worded letter to your troop leader about delivering your cookies on time. You should uphold your troop’s reputation and be sure to bring them when you say that you will deliver them!”

“This is fragging ridiculous!” Sunstreaker moaned, clutching his headfins and feeling ready to pull them out.  His processors whirled, trying to figure out a solution to communicating with an old woman who apparently thought he was a young Girl Scout.  He swore that he could feel steam escaping between his fingers from his headfins. Maybe it was because he was exhausted and his neural processes strained, maybe it was because he had fried a logic chip somewhere during the long drive, or maybe it was his twin somehow influencing his tired spark, but the answer that he came up with was so unlike him and so bizarre, and yet he decided it was crazy enough to work.

“You want cookies?!” The mech scooped up some wet soil from the human’s garden, crumpled it in his hand, and dumped it into her palm.  “There’s your cookies!”

Mrs. McRobinson’s wrinkled old nose crinkled as she felt the gooey substance running through her fingers.  “Oh my! They melted! Dear, oh, dear…”

“Now, if you please, Mrs. McRobinson, where do you keep the car that your son gave you?”

“Oh! That thing? Well, I’m giving it to my cousin in Wisconsin.  I like my steam-powered car, you see.  Eighty-three years I’ve had it, and it hasn’t failed me yet.”

Sunstreaker visibly wilted.  “…Please tell me you’re joking.  It’s not all the way Wisconsin, is it?”  His chassis was screaming in pain, he had only eaten concentrated emergency energon packets for nearly a week, and to top everything off, the long road trip had chipped away pieces of his paint.  He didn’t think he could make it all the way back north to Wisconsin. Not for the Reventón, not for anything.

“Well, no dearie.  The truck just picked it up early this morning.”

The Autobot’s mood did a 180 spin.  His head snapped up, optics shining brightly with a hopefully glimmer, and a wide smile that certainly did not belong on the face of a mech like him.  “Really?!”

“Yes, yes.  They’re taking the interstate back up, I think.”

Sunstreaker immediately transformed back into his vehicle mode.  His quarry was probably still in this state, all he needed to do was to catch up to the truck carrying it.  His engine revved in excitement. “Thanks-a for-a the help-a!” he shouted before tearing down the human’s driveway and onto the street.

Mrs. McRobinson waved with her free hand at the retreating Lamborghini.  “You’re very welcome, darling.  How sweet, she speaks Italian!”

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

For hours, Sunstreaker weaved in and out of traffic as he searched for the truck hauling his beloved Reventón to Wisconsin.  Frightened drivers swerved out of the way as a yellow Lamborghini came hurtling towards them; he only stayed in the marked lane about half the time.  He passed truck after truck that were carrying all sorts of goods and supplies, but none of them big enough to carry the Reventón.  Finally, when the sun was high in the sky, he spotted an eighteen-wheeler with a trailer that had a fold-up car ramp on the back.

The Lamborghini accelerated into the fast lane and pulled up alongside the cabin of the truck.  His alt mode was too low to the ground to see the human driving, but that didn’t matter to him.  “You! Fleshbag! Pull over right now!” he shouted.

The truck decelerated a little bit, but didn’t stop.  Sunstreaker tapped his brakes so he would stay next to it. “Fraggit, you really don’t want to mess with me right now, human!” he snarled. “Pull over! Now!”

“…Sunstreaker? What are you doing here?”

If Sunstreaker had been in bipedal mode, his optics would have probably bulged and popped out of their sockets. “O-optimus Prime?”

“Yes, Sunstreaker,” the truck answered, “I’m in the middle of something right now.  Sideswipe’s been telling everyone that you were off on some sort of religious retreat that only you two knew about.  He’s been pulling your shift as well as his own since you left.  What have you been up to in the meantime?”

‘Aw frag...’  Sunstreaker knew from previous experience that his commander could pick up on any lies that his troops fed him.  And he’d already made himself known, so he couldn’t run away.  He sighed and stalled for time as he tried to figure out how to explain himself to his leader.  “Ah…sir…I…uh…you wouldn’t happen to be carrying a non-sentient car in your trailer, would you?”

Optimus paused as he considered the question.  “Yes I am, actually.  An old woman is dedicating this car to her cousin’s museum in Wisconsin.  There’s only nineteen other cars in the world like it.  Her cousin would like to put it on display so that the rest of the public may enjoy it.”

The Reventón.  It had to be it.   Sunstreaker chose his words carefully before responding.  “Sir…if I may…would I be able to scan that car?”

The truck’s engine rumbled as Optimus chuckled.  “Honestly, Sunstreaker, I was wondering when you’d come looking for it. I thought Mrs. McRobinson’s house would be the first place you’d go.”

“You did?” The Lamborghini felt like smacking himself in the face. “Yeah, well, I’ve had a bit of a road trip on the way, sir.  So…you’ll let me scan it?”

“Absolutely.”  There was a whirring noise as the door on the back of Optimus’s trailer slid opened.  Sunstreaker immediately moved behind him, terrified that the car would slide out of the trailer and smash all over the road.  Thankfully, either Optimus or one of the humans had taken the time to secure the vehicle tightly to the floor.  The Reventón sat with its front bumper facing the door, and its headlights seemed to shine with greeting when it reflected the sunlight at Sunstreaker.

‘Yes, Primus, yes, yes…’

His scanning protocols initiated, examining every smooth curve of the vehicle, its flawless structure, its sparkling rims, the cool leather seats…Sunstreaker thought he might overload from the waves of information his procesors were feeding to him.  The metal of his own hood began to bend like water, copying the shape of the car in front of him and tweaking it here and there to make it his own.  Joints and servos whirled as they reconfigured themselves to work with the new alt mode.  His spark fluttered as it began programming new transformation codes into every part of his body.

In only a few seconds, a gleaming yellow Lamborghini Reventón was following behind Optimus Prime.

“So? How is it?” Optimus asked, obviously smiling somewhere within his alt mode.

“It’s…perfection…just…perfection,” Sunstreaker heard himself say.  The wind was gliding past his smooth exterior, tight wheels were gripping the ground, the engine purring like a content tiger.  It was like heaven on Cybertron to the Lamborghini.  He didn’t know how to describe it, it was just so…

WARNING. WARNING. DECEPTICON ENERGY SIGNATURES FOUND.

:Stunticons!: Optimus commed to him.  :Less than a mile behind us. Just stay where you are! They’re not looking for us; hopefully they won’t notice us in alt mode!:

For once, Sunstreaker wasn’t looking forward to a fight, and did as he was told.  He was enjoying his new alt mode too much to risk destroying it right now.  Optimus’s trailer door hissed closed, and the Lamborghini silently followed after him, inwardly cursing at the Decepticons and their creators.  Meanwhile, the group of five Stunticons swerved in and out of traffic as they flew down the road, unwittingly surrounding the two Autobots in just a few minutes.

“Fraggit!” Wildrider’s voice could be heard above the roaring engines.  “Boss, I swear, two Autobot signatures were on my radar just a breem ago!”

“You better be right!” Motormaster shouted at him. “Stunticons! Spread out and find them! Destroy them when you do!”

“In this traffic? We’ll never find anybody,” Dead End moaned. “It’s hot, it’s humid, either my oil is going to boil and explode or I’m going to rust…”

“Hey! I see one!” Breakdown yelled. “He’s right over there! Behind the tractor-trailer!”

Irritated, Drag Strip bumped his comrade’s side. “How the frag can you be so sure?!”

“Duh, Drag Strip! How many yellow Lamborghini Reventóns do you see driving on the highway?!”

Sunstreaker had only time to think ‘Oh, fragging slag,’ before Motormaster transformed and kicked his rear end, sending him flying off the road and into the woods.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” Prowl said sharply as Ratchet closed the panel on Sunstreaker’s chestplate.  The yellow Lamborghini, though, was too preoccupied with his feverish waxing on his armor plating to notice the Second-in-Command’s scowl.

“They ruined it! Those fragging Stunticons! They ruined my brand-new alt mode! I’ll destroy them all! Optimus, permission to go to the Decepticon base and rip out every one of their sparks, please!”

“Denied,” Optimus said from the doorway.  His faceguard hid the grin running across his faceplates.  Next to him, Sideswipe snickered at his brother.

“Bro, you said you were gonna bring back a more beautiful self.  You lied to me! You came back a scrapheap!”

“Just shut the frag up, Sideswipe!” Sunstreaker roared at him.  “I really don’t need your slag right now!”

Sideswipe huffed in mock insult.  “Well, fine then.  If you’re gonna be that way, I’ll just leave.”  With that, Sideswipe swiftly turned around on his heel and folded down into his alt mode.  Sunstreaker was about to return to his waxing, but he stopped and did a double-take at his brother.

“What…wait…how did…”

“I just scanned you while Ratchet was fixing your sorry aft.”

Somewhere else on the Ark, Jazz’s sensitive audios snapped at the screech that reverberated down the Ark’s hallways, and outside, the local wildlife suddenly fled from the mountain.  Optimus dove out of the way as Sunstreaker launched himself at his brother, but the red Lamborghini Reventón used his new ultra-powerful engine to burst himself forward and out of harm’s way.  His twin hit the ground, transformed, and accelerated after his brother, screaming death threats against him and his creators, one of which Sideswipe could be heard answering “They’re your creators too!”.

“Hey! No speeding in the halls!” Prowl charged at the door before transforming into his police car alt mode in midair and raced off after them, emergency lights flashing and siren blaring.  Optimus picked himself up off the floor and watched his Second-in-Command go, just slightly amused by Prowl’s attempts to catch up with the twins.

“Maybe it’s time that Prowl updated his alt mode as well.”

“Oh?” Ratchet looked up from where he was putting his tools away.  He was too familiar with the twins’ energetic escapades to be bothered by them once they were out of his medbay.

“Ratchet, they don’t build Datsun parts anymore, and I heard that Italians use certain Lamborghinis as interceptor police cars.  I’m sure Prowl will…”

It took all of his battle experience from being leader of the Autobots and the holder of the Matrix of Leadership to be able to dodge the wrench that came flying at his head.