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Sideswipe does not know Death personally but has met it head on many a time, laughing in Death's face before dancing away; mocking as he lives to fight another day. And whilst he taunts and plays with the darkness from which there is no return, he also serves Death in a way none would, or could ever understand.
Foe have fallen foul of blaster and hand, the front liner having no preference, it is merely a split second decision and one which plays out before his processor has time to register; his only concern that his enemy does not gain the upper hand, does not turn the tables and Death upon him.
Death has become Sideswipe's reason to live, an extension of who he is, all that he is, and without it his life feels bitter and cold; an empty void that can never be filled in the same way. He himself is challenged by its grasp on him, the angel of darkness hanging over him, draped like a heavy, black cloak across his shoulders, a stark reminder that Sideswipe is not infallible and that he too should fear the cold claw of darkness.
The blood red front liner is in essence, Death's slave, tasked with feeding his master's thirst whilst at the same time placating his own desire. The dark force lives vicariously through Sideswipe, gorging itself with the warrior's emotion, his pleasure and hell, growing stronger with every strike, every life taken.
Sideswipe is aware that he is totally consumed by the blackness which resides in his spark, and he can do nothing but relinquish himself to the thrall, the ethereal force pumping through his very being. He does not feel any kind of love for the dark entity but what he does feel is much deeper than could ever be explained, and when lost to the well of darkness his senses become intoxicated, aroused; his energy wild and erotic.
At these times Sideswipe's world becomes hazy, visceral, his movements purposeful and lethal; his desire, Death's desire driving him onwards. Sometimes the front liner has no recollection of his actions, his processor filled with nothing but a dark state of bliss, and at other times he is completely aware of every move, each strike, the tiniest spill of life-energon, and that is when he feels most fulfilled, most complete.
Sunstreaker gave up trying to save his brother long ago, sideswipe's spark too blackened, too damaged by all that he has done, and all that he is yet to do. He does not fear his twin but he fears who he is, for Sideswipe is Death incarnate, the very embodiment of the angel of darkness. And even though he himself is not safe from the dark clutches of the entity which lives through Sideswipe, Sunstreaker remains by his side, devout and protective; and just as Death shadows his twin, Sunstreaker veils him too.
He is Sideswipe's reasoning, his light, the last connection to the living and the very thing which stops the blood thirsty mech from taking that final plunge from whence there is no return. And Sunstreaker can only pray that he survives each day because to leave Sideswipe alone in this world is to sign a death warrant on their race, and an eternity in Hell for his twin, and Sunstreaker loves his brother far too much to condemn him to the eternal pit of darkness.
If he had the courage, Sunstreaker, he would take Sideswipe's life and finally free him from the shackles which he has cast upon himself, but he lacks the conviction to do so and so in turn is just as guilty as his brother for the death wrought on their species.
Death is Sideswipe's life force, without it he is nothing, dead, and like a parasite Death grows stronger whilst Sideswipe's will weakens, leaving him at the mercy of the dark.