Chapter One: Plows an'at

I hate snow!

by icanhascamaro

AN: Hi, everyone. This isn't a new chapter of Shifting Sands, kind of obvious there, I know. I'd like to welcome you to Sunstreaker's story, aka his POV (but in third person) of things after Shifting Sands, from LA to Pittsburgh and everything that happens in Pittsburgh.

Yeah, I know it's a little early to be thinking about snow, but here it is, a story with snow in it. I'd actually had this story written (ie: completed) a long time before I wrote Shifting Sands (honestly, probably about a year or two), but I wanted something to lead into this story. That might be why Shifting Sands was only five chapters long. And seriously? I'm never writing another story through Sam's pov. Those of you who can write a story like that, like the marvelous Botosphere, well done. I applaud you wholeheartedly. You're awesome! ((write moar plz!))

Also, I may have forgotten to mention when Shifting Sands takes place. Bad icanhascamaro! T'would be in February, three years after DotM. i hate snow is in the same month, just six or so hours later than Shifting Sands.

I had fun writing this, so I hope you'll all enjoy reading it!

Continuity: As with Shifting Sands, this is set after DotM and will not follow the travesty that is AoE. AoE? What's that?

Disclaimers: I don't own Transformers, or any name brands/actual places/locations located herin. They belong solely to their owners.

Warnings: A squishy cusses at Sunstreaker, but other than that, there's nothing bad save for Sunstreaker being veeeeeery frustrated (and that's kind of more amusing than anything, right?).

Go, read, enjoy!

Location: Pittsburgh, PA – The Pittsburgh 911th Airlift Wing

Time: 11:44 pm

Other than Bumblebee's squishy causing a slight (and highly amusing, though Sunstreaker would never admit to it) uproar, the flight itself was unremarkable, in Sunstreaker's opinion, from take-off to actual travel time to landing. There had been roughly five hours of recharge mixed with planning and preparing, though most of that boring pre-mission slag had taken place between the Prime and Squishy Lennox.

Unloading had been done after the C-17 had taxied into a large hangar located at the 911th airlift wing base…whatever. It felt like weeks that he'd made planetfall, but it wasn't a few hours prior, and he had swiftly downloaded as much information as he needed to make sense of this odd, dirty, over climatized planet that his twin seemed to enjoy so much.

The 911th base area was adjacent to a complex that the squishies, er…humans, commonly called an airport. The Greater Pittsburgh International Airport, to be precise. The two areas, civilian and military, shared a large expanse of land that constituted the…

Oh, to the Pit with this, Sunstreaker growled to himself. All I want to do is go, get the organic to Ironhide, and and have it do whatever it has to in order to bring that slagger back from the Well.

To say that Sunstreaker had been shocked when his twin had told him of Ironhide's death would be an understatement.

"What?!" Sunstreaker had bellowed. "No way, Sides, no slagging way!"

"Well, it's true," Sideswipe had replied as evenly as he could. "Sentinel Prime shot him in the back with his cosmic rust cannon. 'Hide didn't have a chance to defend himself or to retaliate."

"A Prime…" Sunstreaker had shaken his head at that. "How…"

"It took us all by surprise," Sideswipe had said softly. "Optimus as much as any of us."

"Especially Ironhide," Sunstreaker shot back sarcastically, which was an emotion his twin seemed to somehow miss from his voice.

"Yeah," Sideswipe had cocked his head to the side. "You know, your alt mode isn't bad, but if you wanted to match you could use mine."

"NO!" Sunstreaker had pinned his twin with a vicious glare. "To the Pit with your alt, Sides. And anyway, I like the one I scanned."

"But Sunny! We could match!" Sideswipe was relentless and cajoling. Two things Sunstreaker wasn't in the mood for. "And it's really fun to skate around on wheels when you're not in alt mode. You've gotta try it."

"Do NOT call me that! And skating?" Sunstreaker had shuddered a bit. He had looked it up and was disgusted because skating was a favored human pastime. "Not a chance I'm going to mimic a human, 'Sides."

"It's fun!" Sideswipe had defended his speed-skating choice. "And it's not that bad."

"Yes, it really is," Sunstreaker had replied, even as he had searched the humans' internet for a suitable form. "Your vehicle choice isn't bad as an alt, but there's not a chance in the Pit that I'm going to mimic a human-based activity."

Sideswipe had sighed, but had to, very reluctantly, acquiesce. "Okay, so yours is a better alt form…but I didn't have too much of a choice, Sunny! I had to do with what was at hand at the time!"

"Call me Sunny one more time and I'll make you very sorry."

"Speedskater, my aft," Sunstreaker muttered and continued to glare at his surroundings. He was in his alt mode, a very golden colored Lamborghini Gallardo Superleggera, and peeking out of the open hangar bay door. Even though the temperature wasn't too bad (he'd faced much worse on other planets), the gloomy grey and white that he saw was a very sharp contrast to the blue skies he'd left behind in California. How was it possible to have two extremes of weather in the same hemisphere? Earth was a strange planet.

"It is not too late for you to excuse yourself from this mission." Optimus Prime's voice came both from above and beside him. "This planet's weather can be…difficult…at times."

His scanners showed him that Optimus was towering over him in his mech form. Not intimidated in the least, Sunstreaker grunted in reply and busied himself with trying to fine-tune his scanners to adapt to the precipitation falling from the fat, low hanging clouds. "What is this…weather…called."

"Snow." Optimus glanced down at Sunstreaker's exotic vehicle mode. "I do not think that your choice of alt mode will be suitable to the current weather."

"I'll be the judge of that, Prime." Sunstreaker snorted. "Besides, if Bumblebee can handle it in his low slung alt, then I can surely deal with it in mine."

"Very well," Optimus vented softly. "Before we leave there will be a meeting. Be ready for it."

As his leader strode away to speak with Ratchet and Squishy Lennox, the golden mech paid attention to the thoughts running through his processors. The was a mix of reasons for why he wanted to be here to do this mission, even though all he wanted to do was be with his twin. It was for both Ironhide and his own pride that he chose to go with the rescue mission. He had reviewed the data that his twin had sent him, which spanned from Sideswipe's own arrival to Earth, to the incident in Shanghai with Sideways, all the way through the final battle in Chicago and some of the reconstructing of that city. It made Sunstreaker realize that Sideswipe had been a very busy mech. His twin had supported the Prime in every way that he could, while Sunstreaker had been traveling through space, fully locked on the signal that Optimus had sent out into the stars.

Traveling through space hadn't been as easy as it sounded. It provided its own set of troubles, as it was wont to do. If it weren't for the skirmishes with Cons he came across – and of course he kicked aft – there were always the natural hindrances provided by the black void of the galaxies.

Sunstreaker had not had a lot of choice with the speed of his space traveling, but he did have control over what he did once he landed on this planet. And what he was going to do was to assist his Prime with restoring life to one of the few mechs that Sunstreaker so highly respected.

Granted a lot of the respect that he had shown to the large black mech had revolved around a lot of pranks generated by himself and his twin, but…it had very much disturbed the golden mech in the manner by which Ironhide had died. It was a cheap shot that Sentinel had taken and, if he had dared to face Ironhide in a fair fight, there was no doubt in Sunstreaker's processors that Sentinel would have been the one to die.

The traitorous Prime would have died slowly and painfully.

But he hadn't fought fairly and Ironhide had offlined.

Sideswipe had provided him with a large data packet that contained all the information he needed to be up to date on Sentinel's betrayal. There had been one video clip in particular that had stuck with Sunstreaker. It was the moment when Ironhide's head had fallen from the rest of his frame…how the optics were still lit with brilliant blue.

Ironhide had still been alive, conscious, at that moment.

For that alone, Sunstreaker would gladly revive Sentinel so that he could send the traitorous Prime to the deepest level of the Pit with his own cosmic rust cannon.

:Hey, Sunny…:

Sunstreaker froze and his engine revved a bit in anger. He was both pissed at the nickname and that he'd been caught unaware. He prided himself on being very in control and he'd been startled by his twin's impromptu communication. Despite the fact that he had been missing his twin, he absolutely hated that slagging nickname :Be very glad you are in California, brother, and that several thousand miles separate us.:

:Aww, and here I just wanted to wish you luck, bro!:

:You may still do that,: Sunstreaker would've grinned smugly if he could have. However, Lamborghinis did not have that sort of capacity for emotional display.

:Yeah, because I heard it's snowing out there and your alt mode…:

:Is better than yours,: Sunstreaker interrupted his twin. :Yes, I know that it is snowing, Sides, and I'll be fine. It can't be that bad.:

:Okay,: Sideswipe replied in a doubtful tone, and feelings of unease swept through their link.

:Have a little faith in me, Sides. I wasn't sparked yesterday.:

:No, but you haven't experienced weather like this either.:

:Not in a while, I admit.:

:Not like this,: Sideswipe was adamant, almost forceful. :Not in that kind of an alt mode and not with this kind of weather, and not with humans all around you! You just got here. I don't want to lose you too soon, and not to slagging snow!:

For an astrosecond, Sunstreaker almost felt as uneasy as Sideswipe did, but he forced it away and sent just how confident he felt over the link to his twin. :I'll be fine. Stop being such a femme.:

:If you say so, bro,: Sideswipe sounded less worried, but still uneasy. :Keep in touch with me.:

:Like I have a choice?:

:No!:

Sunstreaker sighed through his vents. :You know I wouldn't shut you out unless it was necessary. And this trip won't have anything necessary like that. This is going to be an easy mission, Sideswipe. Just trust me.:

:I trust you,: Sideswipe also sighed. :Sideswipe, out.:

It wasn't necessary for his twin to do so, which surprised Sunstreaker but the formalities were there and he replied in kind. :Sunstreaker, out.:

Though he was, in truth, very excited and happy to be with his twin again, he was also equally as elated to be aiding his Prime in such an important mission. The four mechs involved were himself, Prime, Ratchet, and Bumblebee.

Also along was the human responsible for killing Megatron the first time. Though to Sunstreaker the human seemed to barely be out of a youngling age, Sam Witwicky had declared himself ready and willing to help bring Ironhide back from the Well. Apparently the human somehow had a tie to the ancient Primes, and it was Primus' request that Sam Witwicky was to go on this mission in the first place. That the ancient Primes were Primus' messengers to Sam Witwicky flabbergasted Sunstreaker.

And of the billions of squishies on this planet, Sam Witwicky had been the one who had found the Matrix of Leadership, which in turn had brought Optimus back from the Well when he was killed by Megatron (who had been revived by a shard of the Allspark), though first Sam Witwicky had to die in order to see and apparently be accepted by the ancient Primes and…

It was enough to make Sunstreaker's processors freeze up, so he stopped mulling over the information.

"You ready, Sunstreaker?" Bumblebee, also in his alt mode, was pulling up next to Sunstreaker. His human charge, Sam, was sleeping in the driver's seat of said alt mode, with his head leaning against the window.

Sunstreaker stared at the Camaro. "I think your organic is drooling on your window."

"Er…"

"Ratchet did nice work on your voice box," Sunstreaker said blithely. "It's definitely an improvement from you using radio clips." That information had also been in the data pack.

"Thanks, I guess," the yellow bot seemed perplexed. "Optimus said it's time for the briefing. So…you ready?"

"More than ready," Sunstreaker said smugly. "I've been ready since we got on that plane."

"So to repeat," Major Will Lennox stood in front of the four mechs. "We drive with care on the roads. Make sure to not run anyone off the road. It's not snowing yet but weather reports sent to me have said that it had been doing so earlier. It's very likely that there will be humans out there driving in non-sentient vehicles. Their response time is not as good as yours…" and this was directed mostly at Sunstreaker, since he was new to the planet, and had nothing – swear to Primus – with how much the other Autobots knew how much he loved to speed. "…so please take care to remember that. We will drive on I-376, heading east along 376 after leaving the Fort Pitt Tunnel, until we get to exit 74, proceed through a residential neighborhood, over the Homestead Grey's bridge…"

"And through the woods to grandmother's house we go…" The singsong voice that interrupted Lennox faded away abruptly.

Every mech, as all four were in mech mode, plus Lennox, turned to stare at Sam, who had been sitting on Bumblebee's right shoulder.

"Uh…" Sam's face reddened. "So, you were saying…"

Lennox rolled his eyes. "We will drive over the bridge and into a shopping area known as the Waterfront."

"I'm guessing the shopping isn't what we flew several thousand miles for, right?" Sam had spoken up yet again, though he seemed a bit baffled. "I mean, it's not like we're gonna drop in to the local Target and pick up Ironhide in the toy section."

Since Lennox looked torn between exasperation and anger, Optimus spoke up to diffuse the situation.

"I can understand your confusion, Sam," the Prime said in a steady voice. "If all of you have reviewed your data packs, or printouts for the humans, you will recall that the shopping area was not always there. A huge steel mill complex had been on that land for many decades."

A still confused Sam had another question, "Okay, but what does that have to do with Ironhide?"

"Although our Cybertronian metals are far superior to human made steel, this area – indeed this whole city – has worked a great deal with metal in its history," Ratchet said. "I could only guess that Primus has a sense of humor."

"Uh-huh," Sam shrugged. "I guess so."

"The biggest issue is going to be the snow," Lennox said. "Optimus has told me that your sensors and scanners are able to weed through the snow so that you can set a direct course for the coordinates that Sam was sent from the Primes." He then nodded to the large red and blue mech. "I'll be riding with you, Optimus, and Ratchet will follow with Sunstreaker. You still want Bee to scout out first with Sam?"

"Given the weather, I do not think we should separate…"

"Optimus! C'mon, you can't back out now!" Sam almost stood up on Bumblebee's shoulder, but as he lacked the coordination to do so, he remained sitting. "The faster that we get to the Waterfront, and to Ironhide, the faster we can get home where it's a lot warmer than this."

Though he was dressed in winter weather clothes, including a very thick parka, he was still shivering. The whiteness of the bandaging on the side of his temple stood out against his tanned skin like a smudge of snow.

"Very true, Sam, but as I have the Matrix," There was a very slight tinge of smugness to Optimus' voice, "you cannot do anything until I get there."

Sam let out a frustrated sound. "Fine! But let's get going, okay? Too much talking, not enough driving!"

"You heard Primus' middle man," Sunstreaker smirked. "Let's get going."

Of course, the going part was easier said than done.

Prime and Ratchet took the lead, with Bumblebee in the middle, and Sunstreaker taking up the rear. The snow wasn't too bad as of yet, maybe an inch at the most, but general consensus ruled that the two largest mechs' alt forms would act as spur-of-the-moment snow plows, if needed. Even though a lot of the snow was slush on the black top, there would doubtlessly be areas where the snow would accumulate. As such, Sunstreaker modified his tires so that they felt to him that they gained more traction on the slick roadway.

He had ignored the memo in the mission's datapack, the one that had recommended snow tires specific to each mech's alt mode, which had been provided by squishies on Squishy Lennox's team. Sunstreaker didn't need help from any human, and certainly not a team of humans, because he knew all there was to know about tires. His alt was a car, wasn't it? The chances of a human knowing more about tires than Sunstreaker, than any mech, was absolutely ridiculous.

After driving along a winding highway (and for some reason, residents of this city called it a parkway – wouldn't calling it a driveway be more accurate? Or was there a lot of parking done here? Sunstreaker decided he just wasn't going to bother sorting that out.), they descended a gracefully sloping section that lead to a tunnel. Though the tunnel was brightly lit, the ceiling was quite low.

:You gonna fit, Boss Bot?: Sunstreaker asked in a darkly humorous tone.

:Just fine, Sunstreaker, thank you for inquiring,: and though the Prime's voice was equally as amused, the cab and trailer (the latter was brought along just in case they needed to transport a discombobulated Ironhide) had about an inch of clearance.

As the vehicles sped through the tunnel, they realized that there were not many vehicles on the road with them. A pair of cars were ahead of them, as Optimus and Ratchet stuck to the right lane and Bee and Sunstreaker were in the left, along with a lone set of headlights that were behind them. A quick scan indicated they were human driven vehicles.

As they drove out of the tunnel, he heard Sam speaking through the comm link that Bumblebee had left open.

:Wow! That is some view! Uh, even with all the snow.:

As Sunstreaker left the tunnel, he saw what the others had seen. The city of Pittsburgh seemed to unfold before their optics. Glittering golden streetlights shimmered through the softly falling snow, and the river beneath the bridge they were on looked like black velvet.

:This city is known as the Steel City,: Ratchet said through the comm link. :It's also known as the City of Bridges because it has more bridges than any other city in the United States, along with three more bridges than the Italian city of Venice, which had historically held that title.:

:Very nice, Ratchet,: Sunstreaker said in a bored tone. :Do you have any information on how to deal with this fragging snow? Is it going to let up any time soon?:

:You have radar, Sunstreaker, feel free to use it and the connection you have to the humans' internet.:

:Slagger,: The Lamborghini snarled as his back end slid out a bit as they rounded a slight turn on a descending ramp. The insult was directed to Ratchet and the snow and the road. Said road had signs that indicated the parkway would lead to a place called Monroeville.

:Enough chatting, ladies,: Lennox's voice came over Optimus' comm link. :Keep your scanners on the road. We'll follow this highway for approximately four minutes, weather and road conditions permitting. Then we'll take an exit and drive through a residential area. It's a bit of a confusing turn, so keep your optics open!:

And it was all so simple, really it was. Despite the snow falling all over the slagging place, getting into open vents and landing in the engine bay, and despite the slush spinning up into his undercarriage, Sunstreaker figured this was going to be easier than he'd expected. Sure there were a few more vehicles driving around them, piloted by snow savvy humans, but it was easy keeping his scanners on his fellow mechs.

But the snow, the slagging freezing cold snow! Yes, space was a lot colder, but his cometary form had shielded against much of it. This snow was simply revolting.

The pavement wasn't too bad yet, despite the slush, but the cold creepy feeling of said slush hitting his undercarriage was….it was disgusting. He had, of course, dealt with things as disgusting, or even worse, than slush (which brought up memories of the harmless, but gross, slug creatures on Alpha Sigma Three). It was just that it was so annoying, and Sunstreaker was already annoyed to the tip of his helm. He wanted this to be a swift mission, and he was good at being fast.

It was then when Sunstreaker noticed that the snow was starting to fall a little heavier, a little thicker.

Not really that big of a deal, Sunstreaker thought to himself. I'll just follow one of the others and let them lead me. I could follow Bumblebee, but he's driving cautiously due to his squishy. Can't see slag around Optimus' big aft, so I'll stick with Ratchet. Safest place to be is behind the medic.

Or so he thought.

:Get ready, guys, exit 74 is just up ahead,: Lennox's voice came over the comm. :We're about to get off this road for the next, which will lead us a short distance through a residential area. The exit curves a bit, so be prepared for that.:

Sunstreaker would've loved to have offered up a retort to the squishy, but he was a bit preoccupied with his scanners. The snow, which was falling a lot heavier now than it was two minutes ago, was almost at white-out conditions. His scanners were fragged to the Pits and he was relying on following Ratchet's taillights, which lit up every now and then.

Just a minute ago he thought he'd seen the medic's taillights swerve to the left, then to the right, but he'd not heard a complaint from Ratchet, so he stayed silent himself.

All he could see, other than Ratchet's red taillights, was the white of the Pit bound snow!

Suddenly Ratchet veered to the right, and as Sunstreaker followed he had to slow down even more. His rear slid out again, which caused the Lambo to growl to himself. He hadn't expected the exit to be so extreme!

He swore viciously as he felt first the left and then the right side of his rear bumper scrape against what had to be a pair of guard rails.

:You..kay..ack..ere, Sun…eaker?:

:Bumblebee? What did you say?: For some reason, Sunstreaker could barely make out what Bee was saying over his comm. His reply had come out harsher than he had intended, for once, and he felt a bit of apprehension when the yellow scout didn't respond to him.

:Hey, Stumblebee,: Sunstreaker tried for the 'Piss 'em off till they respond' method. :You hear me, or did your comm go out like your voice?:

But the Camaro did not respond.

:Fine, frag off, you slagger,: Sunstreaker snorted. :I can do the silent treatment, too, you know.: He attempted to talk to Ratchet instead. :I grace you guys with my presence, after vorns of not seeing the any of you, and this is what I get. Almost wish I'd been a little slower in space.:

When Ratchet also ignored him, Sunstreaker felt his apprehension turn to irritation and then annoyance. :Yeah, just go on and ignore me. When I'm the one to save Ironhide, by myself, you'll be begging to kiss my aft.:

The silence dragged on as Ratchet and the others led the way through the residential area, and it suited Sunstreaker to fume silently. Here and there, through the thick falling snow, Sunstreaker could just barely manage to catch glimpses of human homes, a gas station, and even an eatery called Pizza Hut. Sunstreaker could just barely see the green of a street light as they went through an intersection, then paused at a few stop signs.

A bit of doubt began to creep into Sunstreaker's processors as they began to climb a steep, and very snowy, street.

There hadn't been mention of a street that went up. Wasn't it one that went down? Down to a bridge?

:Uh, Ratch, I think we might be going the wrong way: He broke off with a muttered curse as his tires suddenly spun and he went nowhere. The snow was beginning to be too thick, too deep, and for some slagging reason his tires weren't helping him.

He didn't know how far they'd gone up this steep fragging hill of a street, but suddenly he noticed that Ratchet's taillights were getting dimmer.

The Pit spawned fragger was leaving him!

:Ratchet? RATCHET! Don't leave me!: Sunstreaker wailed as he fishtailed in the snowy street. His aft nearly clipped a car parked on the street. :Optimus? Ratchet? BUMBLEBEE!:

The howling of his tires was met with silence from his comm.

:Squishies?:

But neither the squishies nor his companions answered him and, to Sunstreaker's dawning horror, he realized that they were leaving him behind without even a word.

He was stuck.

Sunstreaker was stuck, in the slagging snow, sideways, on a residential street.

On. A. Hill.

It was fortunate, for him, that no one had come up or down the street, but he was still stuck.

He spun his tires forward and back.

He'd gunned his engine.

He'd made very, very little progress.

And yet his biggest fear was that some squishy driven vehicle would come down this street, that he couldn't see much of due to the still blinding snow storm, and crash right into him. No, he probably wouldn't sustain too much damage, as his body was formed of much tougher metal than a mere human created vehicle, but he could get scuffs on his finish.

Scuffs!

Sorrow filling his processors, Sunstreaker darkened the tint on his windows and prayed to Primus for a way out of this.

Safely and preferably with no damage to his finish.

Ten minutes later…

A light was growing in what little his optical sensors could see. Brighter and brighter.

:Is that you, Primus?:

Sunstreaker's fuzzy processor was sharply sent into overdrive when he realized he was facing an oncoming plow.

One that was blaring its horn at him quite angrily.

"Move yer car, jagoff!" A male squishy was leaning out of the plow's driver's side window, shaking a fist angrily at Sunstreaker. "I can see yer damned engine's on, so I know yinz is in there! And if yinz don't move in three seconds, I'm gonna plow right through that pretty lil' bumper of yinz."

The squishy's words, odd as they were, put the fear of Unicron in Sunstreaker's spark.

NOT the bumper!

Tires shrieking in protest, Sunstreaker desperately pulled himself through the snow. If there had been a squishy at his wheel – as if that would EVER happen – they'd see the needle of his speedometer inching past the highest factory setting.

He must've done something right, because he was suddenly shifting over the snow to the right. Praying to Primus that there were no squishy vehicles in his way, because he did not need to scratch, scuff, or otherwise damage his paint, Sunstreaker felt himself propelled over a snow covered curb, over a sidewalk, and just barely missing a row of (quick Google search - which was somehow unaffected by his current predicament) hedges, a massive amount of snow forced him to rumble to a stop on someone's front lawn. He groaned at the cold feeling of snow that had been shoved up and under and into his engine bay, and couldn't help shuddering at the sensation.

"Nice parking, dumbfuck," the squishy laughed as the plow resumed its trek down the street. "Hope that's yer yard, otherwise yinz is up shit creek without a paddle an'at!"

The only thought in Sunstreaker's processor, other than trying to translate what the squishy was saying, was wondering how much trouble he'd be in with Prime if he transformed and blew up the plow and squishy with a nicely placed plasma shot.

The rumbling of a snow plow woke 29 year old Beth Galen from the sleep she was currently enjoying. She groggily looked over at the digital clock on her bedside table and let her eyes drift shut.

Quarter after midnight was way too early to be waking up.

For anything.

Time passed...

How much, Sunstreaker wasn't sure. His chronometer seemed to be on the fritz just like near about every slagging thing else. The time it told him simply couldn't be true, and so Sunstreaker felt he couldn't trust the fragging device.

As time passed, Sunstreaker pondered the multitude of thoughts running through his processor. One of which regarded how a mech saw around him while in alt form. Sam Witwicky had been confused about it, which was something else Sideswipe mentioned in the initial datapack, and it was something that Sunstreaker was most amused by. To be honest, it varied upon the mech in question. Sunstreaker himself could see through any number of scanners.

What Sunstreaker saw now worried him and made him question his sanity just a tad. A mech like Ratchet, or even Ironhide, would have to say that a mech would have to be sane in the first place to wonder about said sanity, and that Sunstreaker was lacking in sanity in great quantities. To which Sunstreaker would reply to frag off.

But right now, at this very moment? Sunstreaker was having a bit of an existential meltdown.

Why was he having an existential meltdown? Because to his right, parked on the driveway that Sunstreaker was partially on (as the left half of him was mostly "parked" on a snow covered lawn) was a tarp covered form that seemed somewhat familiar to his scanners.

By all rights, he knew that there was no way in the Pit that Bumblebee would be next to him and covered with a white tarp-like cover. A cover that was also covered in about an inch of snow. But what else could it be? It looked just like the yellow scout's alt mode, but there was no spark. There was no sign of life at all under the tarp.

The only scanners that Sunstreaker possessed that actually worked were the close proximity scanners. He had rerouted every fraction of spare power to these fully functioning scanners so as to get them to their most sensitive levels.

Yet when he did, the first thing they showed him was that the vehicle form under the tarp was indeed that of a Camaro.

It was a grey Camaro.

A grey Camaro with no spark.

Even though they were long lived, it wasn't rare for a Cybertronian to die. Obviously, as the war had made so painfully obvious to mechs like Jazz and Ironhide, and when they did die their metallic bodies usually took on a grey hue. So to see a grey vehicle like this…Sunstreaker could come to but one conclusion.

Bumblebee was dead.

Sunstreaker had come to this conclusion what felt like joors ago had, according to his fragged up chronometer, only been a couple of breems. Obviously the device was still malfunctioning. Once again, the golden mech scanned the cloaked form of his fellow warrior and felt a twinge of pity.

Not even allowed the dignity to die in your Primus given form, Sunstreaker thought morbidly.

The thought angered the golden mech. Yet even as the first flares of anger stirred in Sunstreaker, they did so sluggishly. The cold, the precipitation, and the Pit blasted loneliness he was suffering from pounded him as thoroughly as any training session with Ironhide.

Frag it all! Sunstreaker thought furiously. Not only was he stuck in this backwater, Primus-forsaken city – certain to die as poor Bumblebee had – he wouldn't get to see the Witwicky human's plan in action.

Sunstreaker and Bumblebee. Two battle hardened mechs who had seen countless millennia of war, to be offlined by misery and snow and, well, whatever had offlined Bumblebee.

To not offline in the heat of battle.

To never see his twin again.

Destined to die on a planet he'd only recently made planetfall on.

Unacceptable.

He was a warrior. He would not accept death from so simple a foe. He was a warrior sparked and he would offline as a warrior. Not as a mech who had been abandoned by his fellow Autobots. It irked him to Cybertron and back that they had left him. Fragging left him behind!

No time for this slag, Sunstreaker tried to focus his thoughts. I need to figure out where I am and how to get away from here. Optimus needs me.

A quick scan of the human abode in front of him, which was a modest one story brick home in a style called a ranch (though the land surrounding it was in no way equal to that of any sort of animal management), with one sign of life inside of it. Could this be Sam Witwicky?

No…slag no…none of that made any sense at all! If Bumblebee was here with Sam Witwicky, then where would Optimus and Ratchet be?

Gone off to the Waterfront that Ironhide is supposed to be at…

Sunstreaker's engine revved harshly in frustration. Why in the name of Primus was it so slagging hard to form a coherent thought? It didn't feel too cold that his systems would be in danger.

Ah hah! There was one mech in the universe that could help him sort this out.

:Sideswipe, you there, bro?:

Silence.

:Sideswipe?:

Not even the faintest sensation of his brother's spark came through the link. As a matter of fact, it was as if there was no link. Sunstreaker felt chilled to the spark. How had he not noticed that?

:SIDESWIPE?!:

Still no answer. Now Sunstreaker was getting anxious and he felt a few internal fans kicking on in response. The snow around him began to fall even thicker, further screwing up his last remaining functioning scanners, and the golden mech felt the first rare twinges of fear mingling with anxiety.

The combined emotions were so strong that when a glob of snow fell on his hood, he was unable to keep from letting out a few sharp blasts of his horn.

Everything suddenly went dark.

Oh no! Not only is he stranded, Sunstreaker can't get in touch with his bro! What the heck is he gonna do?!

Post-chapter Author's Notes: Yes, the route they took is very easy to find on Google maps.

What Sam said about picking up Ironhide at Target mirrors my own irritation at trying to find a Voyager class DotM Ironhide at Target. Might even be that very Target mentioned in this story, who knows. I eventually found one at a Marshall's/Homegoods store in Chicago. Iiiirony :D

Also, I'm really bad at Cybertronian units of time. If anyone has something with weeks, days, a day, minutes, etc., can you forward it to me? Please? Thanks in advance!