Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Samuel James Witwiky shoved the All Spark he held upward, aiming desperately for the gap in Megatron's armor that shone with blue light. He heard Optimus shout something, some negation, but Sam could only stare upward at his target even as Megatron, red optics boring down, reached toward him with wickedly sharp fingers. The Cube began to glow, the glyphs shining with definition, and a whisper of warning thrilled through Sam but, before he could fully examine the twisting, squirming sensation in his ribcage, a clawed hand closed around his body just as large blunt fingers grabbed the metal between his hands. Then, as if some cosmic circuit had been completed, the world vanished as the All Spark lit up like a star so bright he could see it even behind his closed eyelids as all that energy, all that awesome power, shed its physical form in an explosive, concussive wave…

And there was Sam- right at ground zero.

His last conscious thoughts consisted primarily of fire, agony and mind-numbing terror. Nothing moved in Mission City, Nevada for the two hours immediately following the destruction of the All Spark.

The resulting wave of released energy had knocked out everything electrical, leaving machinery of every kind dormant and silent while the entire city's human population lay unconscious wherever they had fallen when the wave hit. There were no exceptions to this, not even the members of a highly advanced species, and both Decepticons and Autobots alike offlined as the energy washed over them. For those two hours, Mission City was a ghost town, almost devoid of life, but then, finally, something flickered into awareness.

Initiating Re-boot Sequence…

Querying Sensory Status:

            Sensory Systems Offline

            Neural Network Offline

Beginning CPU inventory:

            Processor: Intact... Offline

            Central Cortex: Intact... Offline

Running BIOS Integrity Evaluation:

            BIOS Coding Intact

            Loading Core Doc Files…

  Primary Function…  File(s) Found

                                Primary Function: Fidelity to the Fallen

                                Primary Function: Protection of Cybertron

{ Config Logic Dispute}

Fatal Incompatibility with Primary Function Found:

            Initiating Resolution Between Systems…

                                Runtime Error…

Fatal Incompatibility with Primary Function Found:

            Initiating Resolution Between Systems…

                                Runtime Error…

Fatal Incompatibility with Primary Function Fou- 

The circuits flared as a wave of cool blue electricity swept through them, seeping through the programming, sorting through the multiple lines of coding, isolating the corruption as just a file damaged by a virus and repairing the loop before it could spiral further out of control. 

Error- File Damaged

Automatic File Repair Activated

           Data retrieval initiated…

                                Processing… Error- Data Corrupted Beyond Retrieval.

           Files Quarantined

Diagnostic Systems Running:

           Warning: Threat Found

                                 Unknown Entity Detected

           Containment Protocol Activated

                                 Threat Quarantined

                                 Threat Neutralized

            Purging Protocol Activated

Running Viral Scan…  Scan complete

System status:

            Cortex Breach Detected

                                Firewalls 50 through 200 Compromised

                                Preservation Sequence Activated

                                Repair Systems Initiated

Data Compilation In Progress… 

BIOS Inventory Initiated… 

            BIOS Coding Intact

                                Primary Function:  Protect Cybertron and All Cybertronians from External and Internal Sources of Harm

            Current Mission:

                                Retrieval of All-Spark

                                Mission Status:  Succes-

And again, blue electricity intervene, rewriting the data and making the previous entry vanish as if it had never existed.  

                                Mission Status: Failure- All-Spark Destroyed During Retrieval

Sensory Status Updated:

                                Optics: Online

                                Audio: Online

                                Proximity Sensors: Online

                                             Enemy Detected: Autobot Leader Optimus Prime

                                Targeting Systems: Online

                                             Target Lock Acquired 

                                             Immediate Termination Recommended

A rush of electricity spilled across and through the coding, demanding attention and canceling out everything else until it was addressed. It trickled further into the miles of delicate circuitry, hunting out a specific target, digging up the previously unused file, hauling it out into the open and inserting it into the start up menu.

New Protocols and Subroutines Initiated…

Incorporating New Software into Core Programming

                               Instillation Successful.

Cool blue energy spilled over thousands of miles of sensor relays, tickling, teasing, prompting the new software into action.

Sparkling Detected:

                                Designation: Sam Witwicky

                                Status: Offline, Heavily Damaged

                                Nesting Protocol Engaged 

Recompiling BIOS Data

Loading Core Doc Files…

                              Designation: Megatron

                              Primary Function: Protection of Cybertron and All Cybertronians

                                              New High Priority Objective: Protection of Sparkling

                                              New High Priority Objective: Locate Remaining Decepticons and Escape

General Functionality Inventory:

                              Mobility: 43%

                              Power Reserves: Critically Low

                                              Energon: 13%

                                              Solar: 30%

Beginning CPU Inventory…. 

            Neural Network: Online

            Processor: Online

            Central Cortex: Online

            Core Data Integration: 100%

Reboot Complete

Megatron's visual display flickered online as the mech's stabilizing gyros unlocked automatically, allowing him to stand upright, one hand carefully cradling a limp figure to the Decepticon leader's chest. Dente jutting out more prominently as his labial plates turned downward, he looked down at what he held, unimpressed and slightly dismayed by the pathetically tiny size. Red optics flicked over to scan the Autobot leader prone at the Decepticon's feet before moving over to the cube of metal clutched in Optimus' hand. The urge to reach out and take it, to finally have what he had been searching for all those vorns made his unoccupied hand twitch impatiently until Megatron simply stepped over both the Autobot leader and the cube and began walking out of the strangely silent city, where only the organics moved, the internal fans in their chassis ventilating even in their off-lined state. Cupping his hand more securely around the sparkling, Megatron paused, holding still as he scanned his surroundings, realization triggering as his processors warmed up to optimal working temperatures.

Where in the Pit was he and why was he fighting to the death with Orion? And, for the love of Primus, why had Optimus been using a sparkling as a weapon during their battle?

Querying his memory files only caused more alarm since there seemed to be some sort of corruption to the emotional overlay accompanying the information and images.

Megatron flipped through his files of Cybertron, starting with the earliest and then moving sequentially forward to the present, a chill settling deeply in his spark at the escalating violence he had encouraged and ultimate destruction of their home world. The accompanying emotions were a constant mix of deep-seated satisfaction, rage, and joy, especially once Cybertron was razed, and the Decepticon leader felt his knee stabilizers slip, making him stumble as horror engulfed his spark. He cradled the sparkling to his chest and mourned, grief stricken, as the ramifications of his actions bounced around the inside of his cranial plating, cutting into his processors with an inescapable sharp edged clarity.

Megatron, High Lord Protector of Cybertron, had led the side that had destroyed their world and left their race homeless refugees. They had no sanctuary left and with the destruction of the All Spark, it was only a matter of time until they died out, especially if they themselves were killing each other. Where Prime had managed to find a sparkling amidst the chaos- chaos Megatron himself was responsible for- and what had led to the decision to sacrifice its existence in the pursuit of deactivating the Decepticon leader? He didn't know but it must have been a the only option left. Prime had to have been desperate to be so… ruthless. What had happened to the gentle, scientific mind Megatron had constantly fought with?

Megatron stood, suddenly desperate to flee this silent city that now reminded him eerily of the Cybertron he was responsible for creating. Forcing his limbs into movement and mindful of the small organic forms prone on the concrete, he sought out the other Decepticons in the city, putting a hand to each one and calling them into online status from their recharging state. Together with Brawl and Blackout's help, the three found Starscream and pulled him from the building he had crashed into since the jet had been in the air when the weapon went off. It was abundantly clear from the damage they had all sustained that, had the battle continued, their side would have lost and Megatron felt a surge of anger and disappointment in his subordinates try and overtake his logic centers.

The others seemed to sense this and backed away, optics averted as they waited for some display of temper, and this, more than anything, helped him push the urge to strike out away. They were all in a state of disrepair and needed some uninterrupted recharge cycles. They were soldiers that had been pushed to the breaking point, something only incompetent leaders did. When he announced that they were leaving, no one fought him, the group following obediently behind him as he led the way into a barren landscape with gently rolling hills. Megatron had Starscream pick a location suitable to serve as a base and, after placing the sparkling in a subspace pocket near Megatron's spark chamber, ordered the others to transform as he himself did so.

Sending out a signal to any Decepticons in the area as Brawl was rigged between the three flyers, Megatron led the way to their new home, leaving the city, the Autobots, and the questions behind.

He had troops who needed to be led and a sparkling- possibly the last one- that needed to be protected and his crimes of the past did nothing to change the present.

By the time the Autobots roused to discover the perplexing condition of Mission City, the Decepticons were well and truly gone.

Of course the new base would be in a Pit-spawned mountain range. Megatron sure did know how to pick ‘em.

Listening to his engine tick as it cooled down from the long drive, Barricade settled into his parking spot behind the Phoenix Grill restaurant and decided he absolutely hated the desert. It had been hot, blisteringly so, and the dust and sand from the flat scrub dotting the landscape kept getting under his armor plating, wearing at his gears and making his self-repair system fritz. Driving on it also wasn’t fun since his tires couldn't get much traction on the small grains, and Barricade kept slipping and sliding all over the place unless he went at a slow speed which was a terrible idea when one was being shot at by enraged Autobots.

If he never saw Nevada again, it would be too soon, and though New Mexico seemed to have it’s own share of desert terrain, it also had more forested areas. The faux police car wasn’t entirely sold on forests but he had to admit that having more coverage was comforting even if the amount of solar radiation he could absorb was considerably less this far in the woods. 

A quick scan of the area proved that he was attracting a lot of attention from the local fleshbag community but that was unsurprising since Taos, New Mexico seemed to be a more rural area so anything different stuck out like a sore pede. He’d have to wait until nightfall before he could go anywhere since there weren’t any direct paved roads to Wheeler Peak and he’d have to shed his alt-mode to get up the damn mountain. A giant mechanical construction running around the woods was sure to attract unwanted attention so waiting seemed to be the ideal plan at the moment.

Sagging on his shocks, Barricade grumbled irritably to himself that all his trouble getting here better be worth it when he arrived.

"That,” The faux police car frowns, pointing in disgust at the tiny offline creature being presented to him by Starscream. “Is not a sparkling.”

"It is Lord Megatron's sparkling." The Air Commander said stiffly, patience wearing away. That wasn't too surprising given that they had been having the argument for the past five breems and the only reason that it had been able to last that long without coming to blows was because Barricade had been allowed a good cleanse after his arrival. Yes, a trip to the wash-racks had made him much more willing to indulge Starscream's little delusion far longer than Barricade would have otherwise.

"That's a squishy. A fleshling." Barricade said slowly, disdainfully, while waving a hand dismissively. If Megatron had stolen Prime's little pet human, then best of luck to the egomaniac- he just better not ask the the scout to babysit.

Actually… All four optics focused on the little fleshbag, really looking at him for the first time though Barricade had recognized Ladiesman217 the moment Starscream excitedly tried to shove the human under the his nasal intake. "Did you piss Megatron off again?"

Starscream's armor rattled threateningly as the mech scowled, affronted. "No! He honors me with the watching of Sam!"

'The watching of Sam?' "Uh huh." Barricade had to struggle to hold in the snort that threatened to escape. He managed but only because he distracted himself by accessing the maps of the base Blackout had transmitted to the scout upon arrival. Without a word, Barricade turned around and headed toward what had been zoned as the residential area of the abandoned human military base, deliberately taking a passage too narrow to comfortably accommodate Starscream's wider frame. The low ceilinged area had, so far, been missed by the combined remodeling efforts of Megatron and Brawl and Barricade intended to take full advantage of it while he could.

Too bad 'Screamer couldn't take a slagging hint.

"Why do you ask?" The jet, apparently, was not about to let the question slide nor let the scout slip away. Heedless of the fact that he was both sideways and practically on his knees doing so, Starscream followed the faux police car into the narrow area, hands cupped carefully around the jet's small charge. "Barricade, why do you ask?"

Ex-venting quietly, Barricade held up a hand to indicate to the jet that he was about to stop moving so that they could avoid bumping into one another. Even under the best of circumstances, no one would ever describe the scout as a fan of tactile stimulation- with the other mech acting so weird, the urge to keep his distance practically made Barricade's armor plating itch with the need to insure he didn't make any kind of physical contact with Starscream. To be fair, flyers were a twitchy lot to begin with and the whole war had been psychologically damaging to everyone but… Barricade’s instincts were screaming at him that something was beyond weird going on here and he was absolutely going to listen.

Turning around so he could watch the Seeker, Barricade pointed a long silver phalange at the Air Commander's cupped hands. "Because that squishy is about to deactivate."

"What?" Starscream clutched the human protectively to his chassis and reared back as if Barricade had physically attacked the fleshbag. The resulting clang of the jet's helm connecting with the low ceiling was loud enough to make the scout almost wince. Almost. "He is not! We have been caring for him very well!"

"And I'm sure you'll continue to provide excellent care right up until he deactivates." Barricade made a dismissive gesture as he reviewed the image file of the human Starscream continued to insist was a sparkling. "Very messily, if what I've read is true. It's customary to bury them on this planet- have you picked a plot yet?"

Taking an extra step back to maintain distance from the sputtering jet, Barricade continued toward his original destination down the corridor. It would be a shame once this corridor had been fully remodeled to accommodate the larger mech frames but right now the scout let himself enjoy the fact that, for once, his smaller size proved to be an advantage. Ignoring the garbled noises of outrage the jet continued to make from the too small hallway, the faux police car crossed over into the more spacious area zoned for troop domiciles and carefully considered the available apartments. Many of them were far too big for him to be comfortable, unsurprising since the smaller frames were a minority in among the Decepticons, but just as he’s thinking he’ll have to figure out his own apartment fortifications, Barricade finds a suitable unclaimed dwelling situated in a corner just to the right of the opening to the finished remodeled hallway beside a section of the base that had so far been left in its original form.

Though it had been radically altered now that the Decepticons had appropriated it, Barricade had the impression that the base started out as a defunct missile silo or something similar. Probably a project long abandoned given the outdated Cold War era technology here and there and the amount of areas that dead-ended into rockslides on the map he’d been given but it looked like the wash facilities had been finished if the tile covering the flooring is anything to go by. A quick scan revealed shower stalls and even a tub in one area, all hooked up through pipes in the walls to some sort of water source though Primus knows how much sludge might have built up in the connections from decades of disuse. 

He’ll probably end up regretting his choice once the remodeling for this area begins but the additional protection of having only one direction of approach for attack would be worth it in the meantime. In case of flooding, however, Barricade pinned a reminder to his HUD about not putting anything valuable directly on the floor then ducks inside his new apartment just as an unholy grinding noise fills the air.

“Barricade!” Starscream’s voice is a screech from the hallway and the scout abruptly realized that the jet was considerably closer than the scout was comfortable with. 

Nope. Barricade clicks a a signal to the door to shut before realizing that there was no door. What kind of quarters didn't have a slagging door? Or berths! He was going to have to sleep on the floor, slag it! Stupid backwater mud ball planet-

“Barricade!” And then Starscream was in his doorway, glaring at him as bits of dirt and rock drifted off the Seeker’s armor, folded wings looking a little worse for wear. "Explain to me your reasoning about the sparkling's imminent demise!"

Oh, for the love of…! The jet would never leave him alone now- he should have just stroked 'Screamer's ego, figuratively patted the Seeker's head and moved on. But, seriously? Did the jet honestly need someone to explain that squishies in good health didn't work so hard to exchange gasses efficiently? That their fuel pumps were not supposed to be working that hard to circulate core fluid? That their dermal plating was supposed to be one, relatively consistent pigment and not blotchy red with dark patches? And it stank, more so than humans did normally, but Barricade wasn't sure if the stench was due to bodily secretions or from the dirty tattered clothing clinging to its tiny frame.

"I thought you were a scientist." Barricade grumped, his door fairings fanning gently behind him to allow any trapped solvent to fully evaporate. "It's a squishy not a quantum warp gate! I know you've had pets before and this is the same thing! Feed it, clean up after it, stomp on it when you finally grow bored of its presence, dispose of the body when it dies. Which, as I said before, will be soon."

"Explain to me your logic!" Starscream- honest to Primus- stomped his foot, the armor plates over his weapons shifting, flaring, frequencies ratcheting up to near painful pitches. The display was… Confusing was putting it mildly.

Barricade shuttered three of his optics for a klik, analyzing the jet's behavior. Starscream was rarely anything but arrogant and snobbish in the presence of a grounder- something to do with the worldview that the ability to fly was superior to everything else and, since he could fly, thus Starscream was superior to any ground frame. Seeing him falling apart was both funny and a tad disturbing but what really grabbed Barricade's attention was the realization that, for a comment from a lowly grounder to provoke such a reaction, the jet had to have had similar fears about the little fleshbag's continued functioning.

The urge to be petty and tell the pain in the aft jet to get lost almost wins out before the scout realizes that it would just lead to a fight that Starscream- being bigger, stronger and meaner- would win. Barricade would be reduced to a pile of scrap for indulging in his vengeance for vorns of the Air Commander's verbal abuse, a fate that would not spare him from having to explain his earlier comments anyway. If, however, the scout consented willingly to explain why the little squishy was about to expire on the jet's watch, then Starscream would be in his debt. Having the Air Commander owe you one could prove to be very useful in the future.

Cooling fans cycling noisily, Barricade waved the jet over, looked down at Ladiesman217 where the human lay nearly swallowed by Starscream's massive hand and decided to start simple.

"What have you been feeding him?" Starscream fidgeted then, when the faux police car snapped at him to stop doing so, took a seat on the floor in the middle of the door way. Even with the other mech sitting while he remained standing, Barricade still had to look up to be able to look the other in the optic.

"Energon siphoned from my tank. Blackout and Lord Megatron have been donating also." Well, that would explain part of the problem- if they had been dealing with an actual Cybertronian sparkling, the highly refined energon from a flier's system would have been perfectly acceptable in small, measured doses. Unfortunately, Ladiesman217 was human, not a sparkling, and energon for him was toxic at any dose. Actually, it was surprising that that the human's insides hadn't melted to slag. Barricade almost felt sorry for the poisoned little squishy. 

The scout put a hand to his cheek flares and scratched the chrome surface idly as he felt his shoulder plating begin to twitch. Looking at an ugly, telltale mark on the organic’s flesh peaking out from what remained of its shirt, Barricade was a little afraid of the answer to his next question even as he spoke. "And what did you use to treat his injuries?"

"Most of its injuries are internal and beyond his auto-repair system's capability." Starscream said, looking down at the ‘sparkling.’ The jet brushed one long talon along the human's back and, even unconscious, Ladiesman217 immediately flinched away from the gentle touch, ventilation coming in harsher pants. "We have attempted to intervene and replace the damaged parts…"

The scout suddenly wants to be doing almost anything else beyond having this conversation because he thinks he knows exactly what happened without the jet actually confirming it. However…

"But it didn’t work." Barricade supplies when the jet fails to continue on his own. Starscream looked disturbed and the faux police car covered his facial plating with his hand, hiding his own grimace and taking comfort from the fact that, as far as he could tell, the human was still in one piece, relatively speaking anyway.

"His processor does not respond to override codes so we cannot force him into stasis. We have tried waiting until he falls into a deep recharge cycle before beginning, but he wakes once we start looking for the dermal latches. He was leaking fluid when we arrived and his internal pressure was dropping but when we began to weld the wounds shut he started screaming..." Starscream stared at Barricade with haunted optics, vocalizer dropping to barely audible levels. "He cursed and fought as if we were torturing him and I think Blackout may have broken some rib struts holding him down while we finished. He has not on-lined since."

And he probably wouldn't ever again if they continued to be in charge of the fleshbag’s care. "How long ago did you attempt to repair him?"

"Two solar cycles ago." The jet said mournfully, stroking the little form again. This time, though he flinched away, Ladiesman217 didn’t move as much but Barricade could hear the squishy's systems respond negatively to the tactile stimulation. "I had thought his plating would strengthen once the excess liquid was purged from his system. That's normally what pushes the heating system into overdrive in a sparkling since fluid buildup interferes with metal absorption…"

Translation? Commander Brilliant here had let Sam's fever run rampant since it appeared, depleting his body of resources until all that was left was a dehydrated husk. This situation right here? This was the definition of irony and suddenly Barricade wanted to put his helm in his hands and keen, the situation was so pathetic. He wished he had never run across the jet or the dying human and had instead kept his mandibles shut as he sought out a place to recharge.

"Was this before or after you fed him?" The scout didn't want to know, honestly, and this was reflected in the way the words were voiced, as if dragged kicking and screaming from his vocalizer. He had to know, however, if he was to plan a successful intervention and save both the human and Starscream's aft.

"Before." The Air Commander's voice sounds uncharacteristically small.

"Did he keep any of it down?"

The jet's optics abruptly narrowed suspiciously. "How did you know the sparkling purged its tanks?"

Because that's how organic bodies are designed to respond when a poison is forced down their intakes, Barricade thought irritably before another realization entered his cortex, namely that the Autobots were going to go absolutely ape shit, to borrow a human phrase, when they found out how their little pet human had been treated.

That would be bad enough but if told their pet had deactivated?

The immediate terror the realization prompts spears straight through his nervous system right through his spark chamber and the scout has to lock his servos to keep from shuddering. On the way out here, Barricade had barely managed to escape that moron Bumblebee who had been pretty slagging persistent in catching the Decepticon, so much so that it was only by the skin of the scout’s dente and Primus' will that the Decepticon had managed to escape the fight with no more than a handful of scorch marks left on his plating and a few dents in his aft. The war had gone on for vorns and never before had the Autobot scout displayed such a level of rage as he had while trying to chase Barricade down when the Decepticon fled Nevada. The little fragger had been so worked up that he could barely aim properly, something Barricade had been quick to take advantage of in making his getaway as he led the Autobot scout on a merry chase across three states and back again before finally losing the yellow menace on the Arizona boarder. It was amazing the car chase hadn’t attracted more attention from any law enforcement but Barricade attributed that to military intervention given how hard the American government was trying to keep the events of Mission City secret. 

Not that anyone would ever ask him for his opinion, but the Decpticons were fucked if the Autobots decided to truly let loose, to finally throw in the proverbial towel and cross the lines they held in such high regard. Prime had been a brilliant leader on Cybertron before the war and he’d managed to keep his ragtag group united in the face of every cruel act the Decpticons had thrown at them. The Autobots had their faults but they had managed to hold the moral high ground all throughout the war and even a cynical bastard like Barricade had to respect such a feat. Compared to the hotbed of malice and psychopathy the Decepticons had become under Megatron’s increasingly insane leadership, Optimus’ gentle charisma had been alluring to the scout in a way that Barricade could not allow himself to fully examine and he’d only managed to crush the nagging idea of swapping sides with the reminder of how much metaphorical and literal circfluid he had on his hands. Besides, it’s not like his deep seeded antipathy would fit in with any part of the wholesome Autobot outlook of life being precious and apparently everybody should be friends with everybody else be they animal or plant. 

The biggest weakness of the Autobot faction was that they weren’t willing to remove anyone from the playing field permanently unless non-negotiable forced to do so. They played by the rules of Fair Play, so to speak, but they’d been losing the war because they were the only side doing so and they had suffered for it severely in terms of numbers. The Decepticons had standing orders to eliminate any Autobot and they had done so with gusto by any means necessary with ruthless efficiency and still- still- the Autobots had never resorted to fighting violence with violence.

Until this stupid, middle of nowhere mud ball with its equally stupid if occasionally entertaining local wildlife, their victory over the Autobot army had been all but assured. Being around the squishiest had done something to the other faction, bolstered their sparks somehow, had prompted the Auto-idiots to stop running, to stop hiding, to instead come out of the gate swinging with everything they had left and it all seemed to start with Sam Witwicky.

It made no sense, had no logical or tangible benefit, but, if one gross little fleshbag could rally the Autobot’s collective fighting spirit in only a few days of contact, what would the knowledge of his death do to the Autobots? How far would they be willing to go for revenge once they learned that their precious 'Sam' had died under Decepticon care?

Desperately wishing again that he’d simply avoided the jet completely, Barricade rubbed at his cheek flares and cycled his optics off then on again as he tried to fully process a solution to the current situation. Bumble-bot’s temper tantrum would be a drop in the proverbial bucket compared to the level of wrath the Auto-idiots could potentially collectively unleash so the easiest solution to the whole ‘squishy dying’ issue was to insure it didn’t happen or at least didn’t happen here. It was in the Decepticons’ (and more importantly Barricade's) best interest that Ladiesman217 survive at least long enough to be returned to the other faction as soon as possible.

Step one of this plan, the scout decided, was very simple: get the human away from the other Decepticons.

"Starscream," The police car began quietly in the most diplomatic tone his vocalizer was capable of, even going so far as to cycle his frequencies to a longer wavelength and a lower tone to help calm the agitated Seeker. Step one was crucial and the scout would have to be both calm and tactful in his execution if he was to make the other see reason. "You've done very well and all the care you've given has been perfectly acceptable for a sparkling… But that is not a sparkling-"

"He is a sparkling!" Somewhere in the jet, a weapons capacitor began to charge threateningly, others joining the first before Barricade can even begin to recalibrate his argument.

There was a reason Barricade wasn’t a diplomat and that was because he couldn’t talk with his head up his own aft. Why in the Pit Starscream thought Ladiesman217 was a sparkling the smaller mech couldn’t fathom, but decided it was an argument for another time. Maybe the jet's logic circuits had fried during the battle in Mission City? Blackout had mentioned that the Seeker had slammed into a building pretty spectacularly… Ex-venting quietly, Barricade patted the air in a calming gesture and made a show of blatantly scanning Ladiesman217, mentally backpedaling, processor chugging away furiously as the faux police car fought to redirect the conversation. "You're right. I missed it before because my scanners aren't as good as yours. He is a sparkling but he's a very, er, special one. A brand new mimic prototype."

"A pretender drone?" Starscream said, doubt evident, but he did uncurl his talons from their tight grip around Ladiesman217, exposing more of the human to Barricade’s vision.

"Exactly." The smaller mech assured, speaking with a patience he didn't feel in the least. It was tempting to simply reach out and snatch the little fleshbag from the larger mech but Barricade resisted the urge. Seekers had both software and hardware that afforded them the fastest reflexes of all frame designs and it was possible that, if the scout tried to grab the human, Starscream would react automatically by closing his hands, which would mean that Ladiesman217 would either end up squashed or impaled on Starscream’s talons. Neither outcome would result in the human’s survival so, if Barricade wanted the human alive, swaying the jet into willingly surrendering Sam to the scout had to be the goal. "It's a pretender and, right now, it's pretending to be a human so regular care isn't going to work. It's reacting like an organic because of its mimicry protocols and needs to be treated like an organic in order for it to survive."

"Organics do not like welding torches." Starscream said quietly, optics on the squishy, clearly distracted as he followed Barricade's logic.

“…Right.” Even though he had knew what they would have used to stop Sam from leaking circfluid, it still sent a cold flutter through Barricade's spark to get confirmation of it. He wondered vaguely if the Autobots would still hold them responsible if Sam was alive but not quite all there anymore mentally. "We don’t know how to care for an organic so we should allow someone more knowledgeable to repair him."

Keeping a tight lid on his building impatience, the scout waited for the jet to make the obvious logical leap. An organic needed care but Decepticons were good at killing organics not keeping them alive ergo they should take him to someone who could provide that care. Ratchet, one of the best medical officers in all of Cybertronian history, would be the best mech to look after a human and, if the inevitable happened, the kid would have died under Autobot care, not Decepticon.

Frequencies slowing, Starscream's face twisted into an expression of absolute repugnance as he processed but at least the jet was actually processing what the scout was hinting at. Just as Barricade is about to pat himself on the dorsal plating for a job well done, however, the jet voices a very different conclusion, his frequencies spiking all over again. "There is a human place of healing in the nearest settlement."

"Huh? Wait, what?" Barricade asked and this time he was the one following on the other's heels as the jet stands, long legs striding purposely through the larger remodeled corridor the scout had initially avoided so he wouldn’t run into anyone. "Don't take him there!"

"By your own logic, the humans should be able to provide aid without incident. Are you saying your previous evaluation was wrong?"

Barricade wanted to slam his head into the wall because if he backtracked his position now then he'd never be taken seriously again. Yes, there was a smaller hospital down the mountain but it probably wasn’t equipped to deal with the major injuries Sam was currently sporting after days of Decepticon 'help.' The squishy had lasted a few days already- surly it could hang on for the time it would take a supersonic jet to fly a few states over. "The humans won't have the necessary equipment! Contact Ratchet and arrange a drop off instead!"

"No!" Starscream shouted, whirling abruptly and bringing the scout to a jerking halt as he pointed with a barbed talon at Barricade's nasal ridge threateningly. "The Autobots are responsible for his present condition and I will not allow them to harm him again!"

The Seeker turned and resumed his winding path further into the base and, like a rock helplessly trapped in the gravitational pull of a planet, the grounder followed after the bigger mech, processor frizzing as he tried to think of an argument that would prevent whatever stupidity Starscream was about to unleash. They were well into the bowels of the human base and had reached the hanger that surrounded the elevator platform resting at the bottom of the dilapidated launch tube the Decepticons were using as an entry and exit point to the base. The platform was essentially an elevator and Barricade had ridden it down earlier to get into the base once he reached the arrival coordinates and pinged the necessary codes only to have the ground shift under where he was parked. The ride had been surprisingly smooth, pleasant even minus the odd grinding of gears and weird rumbling, but he’d still transformed out of his alt-mode once he’d caught sight of all the rust coating the machinery. If the platform failed, he’d technically survive the fall in either form but having hands would be infinitely more beneficial to the scout if he needed to suddenly climb to safety.

“Starscream!” Barricade tried, grinding his dente together as he trotted to keep up, cursing the jet’s stupid slaggin’ long aft legs until said legs stop so abruptly that the scout nearly runs right into them. The floor under the pair of mechs begins to grind warningly and he realizes that they’ve reached the elevator as the platform begins its slow, plodding way up to the surface.

“Yes, Barricade?” The jet asked, tone relatively pleasant but frequencies still gratingly fast, scratching at the scout’s audio receptors even over the loud grating from the platform moving below them.

“Air Commander Starscream,” Diplomacy had failed miserably, as had logic, so now it was time to resort to the tried and true method of ego flattering to get his way. “Transporting the sparkling is a task so far beneath one such as yourself! Why don’t you let me take him to the hospital?”

Starscream turned to look down at him, optics narrowing in suspicion, labial plates pursing. 

“My alt-mode is far more subtle than a jet and will get less attention.” Barricade points out, widening his optics, and generally doing his best to look as innocent as possible. It’s a struggle but he manages to keep his tone placid as the launch tube doors whine into movement above them. “We’re in a rural area and the fleshbags are going to notice the noise of your turbines, too.”

The platform jerks to a halt and the actuators in both mech’s legs hiss audibly, warm wisps of steam rising from their armor into the frigid night air around them now that they’re at ground level. Dead of night or not, Barricade supposes the view would be considered pretty, what with the lack of light pollution and other urban issues to detract from the surrounding forrest and rocky terrain, but he could care less at the moment. Compared to the absolute black of space, the darkness around them is nothing but the surrounding area has several hiking trails running through it along with a camp ground to the southwest of their position and the scout hates being so exposed. Any remotely intelligent fauna had probably already left the area once the ground started shaking but squishies generally aren’t bright when it comes to dangerous things so he recalibrates three of his optics to monitor different light spectrums so he can remain vigilant for anyone with a camera. 

Starscream glares at him with narrowed optics then turns that harsh glare on the quiet landscape before looking down at the figure cupped in the jet’s hands. Barricade half expects the bigger mech to just chuck the human on the ground, frequencies jangling in the Cybertronian noise equivalent of “Just kidding!” to indicate some sort of joke because the insanity of this entire situation is still truly unbelievable. But, gazing down at Ladiesman217, the Seeker’s entire expression softens, becoming almost paternal and it is absolutely terrifying in a way that Barricade cannot fully articulate- probably because the words ‘paternal’ and ‘Starscream’ have never been in the same galaxy together, let alone the same sentence. 

The scout nearly back-peddles in shock when the jet thrusts his hands forward to present Ladiesman217 to Barricade. It is a major concession from the Seeker and, after a moment’s hesitation, the smaller mech accepts the offered human, cupping his own hands so that Starscream can carefully tip the little body into the new space. Their phalanges touch in the process and it is only at this moment that Barricade belatedly wonders if whatever weirdness infecting the jet is about to be passed to the scout. Running every viral detection program he can, Barricade awkwardly holds still, cautiously waiting to see if he, too, suddenly undergoes whatever lobotomy has affected the Air Commander. After several nano-klicks though, nothing pings and the faux police car can detect no anomalies in his personality matrix even when he centers all optics on the shivering human. 

Trying to contain his surprise that step one of his plan has succeeded, he belatedly realizes that it’s too cold on the mountain for humans to be out and about without major thermal protection. Grumbling irritably, Barricade realizes he’ll have to pass the human back to transform and then have Starscream place the human inside the scout’s backseat…. But only after the smaller mech carries Ladiesman217 further down the mountain because to actual roads his tires can grip because all the rough terrain and slaggin’ trees currently surrounding them don’t mix well with cars. Which means Starscream will have to go down with Barricade to at least that point just so the jet can hold the little fleshbag while the faux police car transforms!

Barricade ex-vents hard and fantasizes about just lobbing the human into the tree line randomly then go back inside to finally get some recharge, Autobot wrath be damned. The scout isn’t a parent and he’s abruptly infinitely glad for that fact because he’s had the squishy for all of three klicks and he’s already frustrated all to the Pit with caring for the little fragger. 

“You are taking too long!” Starscream yells suddenly, deftly plucking the human from the scout’s grip and carefully placing the human in the cockpit down the middle of the jet’s torso. Hatch sealing noisily into place, the sound of shifting metal is loud in the quiet night and Barricade stares dumbfounded as the Seeker transforms into his alt-mode, the F-22’s wing flaps moving as if testing their range of movement.

"Pressurize and warm your hatch!" The plan has failed spectacularly but the faux police car tries to keep his eye on the goal and that was to ensure the human survived long enough to terminate under Autobot care. Starscream, the fragger, gives no form of acknowledgement as he fires up his engines in preparation for flight. “Hey!”

Though they’re a bit too close for the scout’s comfort, there’s enough space between them to not come into contact so the sudden hard hit to Barricade’s knee is a definite surprise, knocking it out from under him, and Barricade falls across Starscream’s alt-mode wing just as the whine form the F-22’s turbines become near deafening. Attempting to get up off the other, Barricade’s efforts are immediately undone as the jet suddenly lurches forward into movement, engines firing loudly, and the scout feels his phalanges dig into the other’s armor plates as the jet begins racing for the tree line. No normal human made jet would ever be able to safely take off in such rocky scrubland as a runway but Cybertronians were anything but man made and, plastered flat to the Air Commander’s side, Barricade can’t help the inarticulate noises escaping his vocalizer as they launch into the sky.

This was insanity! Complete and utter madness and, terrified that the gravitational forces at play had already reduced the human to paste, the faux police car looks into the jet’s cockpit. Still offline, Ladiesman217 was strapped securely in place in the seat harness giving no sign of the stress that he would have been showing if the Air Commander hadn't followed Barricade's advice.

The relief that floods the scout's systems is nearly overwhelming but it’s all wiped away when Starscream executes a barrel roll without warning and, as far as Barricade was concerned, without reason. With little else for recourse, the scout digs his phalanges and pedes into the Seeker’s armor with vindictive spite, scoring the other’s paint as the jet races toward the closest human settlement.  

Chapter Text

"Are you sure you don't want a seat, Marshal Rampart?" The receptionist of Holy Cross Hospital’s emergency department asks as Barricade's holoform practically sags against the desk she’s sitting behind.

Right, he’s supposed to be a government official. Shaking its head, Barricade’s holoform straightens, mustache twitching as it busies itself with straightening its new uniform- a plain white shirt interrupted by a plain black tie the same shade as the plain black pants, shoes and trench coat he wears. Standing straight only exacerbates the feeling of being about to purge his tanks at any moment but he manages to force the urge away long enough to concentrate on the conversation.

"It's just the thought of what that poor kid has gone through getting to me." The hologram says and Barricade lets some fabricated anger and sadness bleed into his vocal pattern. "Beaten the hell out of, poisoned with Primu- er, God knows what then dumped in the desert for days before anyone finds him? It's just despicable and why we appreciate the hospital's willingness to accommodate such… extenuating circumstances."

The receptionist, 'Maggie' according to the name tag on her black blazer nods in sympathy as she lowers her voice to reply. Other than the occasional hospital staff member walking through, the pair are alone in the large empty area but her dark eyes still scan the waiting area around them. "Our hospital is always happy to help the WitSec Program in any way we can, Marshall."

Barricade loved this planet. Though he had put considerable thought into creating a cover story that would explain Ladiesman217's condition, there was no way a Cybertronian would have fallen for any of it, not when a few inquiries over the comms and cross-referencing with surveillance satellites would have torn it apart in astroseconds. It was so much easier to fool the humans, especially when any information to the contrary was beyond the access of regular citizens.

"Will your partner be alright? He was very upset and he's been in the bathroom a while…" Maggie asks, sounding mildly concerned but clearly watching Barricade’s reaction. That wasn't terribly surprising since Starscream had glitched so badly as the humans had taken Sam away that the Air Commander’s holoform had nearly vanished right in front of everyone and only Barricade's quick thinking of shoving him in the men’s room had prevented their cover from being blown.

"He'll be fine." Barricade says dismissively then, remembering that partners generally had a relatively supportive relationship, adds, "Once he forgives himself, I mean. Just got his badge and this happens on his first assignment. Was nearly beside himself when the kid went missing."

Maggie makes a sympathetic noise and nods again in understanding before something on the desk in front of her draws her attention. Flashing an apologetic smile at him, she bends to the task and Barricade takes the opportunity to sidle away before she can ask any more questions.

Poke enough at even the most carefully crafted story and it will fall apart under the strain- better to move himself out of arm's reach as a precaution. Flashing his badge and hugging the wall to stay out of the way of any passing doctor and nurses, the holoform drifts further into the treatment area beyond Maggie’s desk hunting for the room where Ladiesman217 was being kept.

Out of all the Decepticons, Barricade was the one who had the most experience with humans but even he didn't understand everything that the other humans were doing to treat Megatron's new pet. They used so much jargon as they talked at one another he almost thought it was a whole separate language. It had become so frustrating, especially with an impatient Starscream constantly asking "Have they repaired him yet?" in his audio, that Barricade was forced to hack the hospital's network along with several online medical sites just so he had one micron of an idea about Ladiesman217's status.

Thanks to his raiding, several minutes later Barricade at least understands that they were using some sort of binding agent to neutralize the remaining energon in Ladiesman217's system and that a cocktail of medication had been given to sensor block him into oblivion. Currently, the squishy was too unstable and too dehydrated for anything more invasive so the medical staff were waiting for his condition to improve before beginning the more intensive repairs to his limbs.

One of the nurses spots him lurking in the doorway and ushers him from the cramped treatment area back to the waiting room. Not wanting to cause a scene, he obeys, muttering apologies for being in the way and earns a sympathetic smile from the female before she returns to her tasks.

Even Barricade knew that this… waiting period was not a good sign. Like, really not a good sign, and he was profoundly worried that, despite the documentation that would back his claim, the Autobots wouldn't believe his explanation that, no, really, the kid had died under human care. The scout ran an internal diagnostic on his actual body, paying close attention to his tires and making sure that all his drive systems were in perfect working order because, once he transmitted the death notification, Barricade was going to have to run like the Pit to escape Bumblebot's wrath.

He wonders vaguely if Starscream would give him a lift out of the city before the notification but immediately dismissed it as his tanks heaved in memory.

As if summoned by the thought, the jet's voice hisses over his comm. channel. ::Has he been repaired yet?::

Resisting the urge to growl is hard but Barricade manages to do it as he flatly reportes. ::No. They're treating him but resetting his struts will have to wait.::

::But he is damaged,:: Starscream points out slowly, as if Barricade had somehow missed this particular detail. ::Why would they wait to repair him when he is so injured?::

In a magnanimous gesture of selfcontrol, Barricade does not point out that it was due to the jet's stupidity that Ladiesman217 is at termination's door in the first place. I, the scout thinks sourly, deserve a slagging medal! Or a monument. A monument would be perfectly acceptable as a symbol to embody the sacrifices Barricade was having to make and the pain he was having to endure while cleaning up this mess. ::It's because he's so injured that they are waiting.::

::This is illogical!:: The jet sounded nothing short of outraged and the scout wasn't sure if it was due to concern for Ladiesman217 or just general frustration born from an inability to understand the hospital staff's delay. ::This is due to your insistence of sticking to that ridiculous explanation! My way was much more efficient!::

Yes, because a giant transforming jet landing in front of the hospital's emergency entrance while dangling an unconscious human in one hand and a chain gun in the other was such a better idea than Barricade's Ladiesman217-as-a-protected-witness charade. Indeed, such a sight would indeed be truly motivating for the humans; in fact it would be so motivating that they’d motivate themselves right out the building to find the nearest authorities!

With his alternate form in clear view parked directly in front of the emergency department’s reception area, Barricade could do little to vent his irritation with the jet circling high in the atmosphere above. The squat brown building was unremarkable, in the scout’s opinion, and had little to differentiate it from the other squat brown buildings in the area beyond the signage above it’s main entrance and the fact it was connected to the equally boring sprawling form of the main hospital behind it. If he could have gotten away with it, the scout would have smashed his facial plates into the asphalt as he tuned out Starscream’ scathing commentary about how long things were taking. Unfortunately, due to the open layout of the parking lot and the clear glass panes of the exterior wall looking into the reception area where his hologram milled about meant there was no cover to hide behind.

How in Primus' name did Megatron put up with the jet's constant bitching? The scout was already getting a processor ache trying to manage the Seeker and they'd only been in their current location for a megacycle! For the sake of his continued sanity, the police car decided that the Air Commander needed a different project to focus on if only for a few breems.

::This is going to take a while.:: Barricade notes, absently tracking the jet’s trajectory as ‘Screamer dives back into lower atmosphere and hoping fervently that the squishies in the area would collectively ignore the noise of the jet making frustrated circles in the airspace above the hospital. It was only three AM; that was late enough for all the fleshbags to be deep in recharge, right? ::Why don't you report back to base while I keep watch here?::

::And do what?:: Starscream snarles, thankfully still several thousand feet above the hospital as he continues his irritated version of pacing. :: Wait for you to report that your idiocy has terminated Sam with my thumbs up my aft?::

Barricade feels like his logic circuits will glitch out in the Cybertronian equivalent of an aneurysm if he can’t find a way to vent his frustration. A quick look at the reception area reveals that Maggie has left the desk unattended and that the seating area remains empty. Scanning the parking lot shows he’s as alone as he’s going to get and Barricade surrenders to his previous urge, transforming just long enough to bang his head into the ground before resuming his police car disguise. It’s only when an alarmed looking Maggie comes hurrying back to her post, her gaze urgently scanning the parking lot for a threat does the Decepticon realize he may have been a tad louder than intended.

::Blackout,:: Barricade radioes, doing nothing to hide how irritated he is with the situation over the comms. The bigger mech is in the area since he’s pinging on Barricade’s radar but the scout has no idea what the other’s mission might be. ::Need a favor.::

The helicopter isn't the brightest of mechs but he seems to sense what the scout's problem was. Yet another victim of Starscream's charisma, Barricade is sure. ::'Screamer finally drive you crazy?::

::Can you call him back to base?:: Barricade asks tersely, hoping he doesn't sound like he’s pleading. He probably does, sadly, but the scout is purposely keeping his sense of pride firmly hidden under a thick blanket of denial. Through his holoform, he reassures Maggie that all is well, literally going through the conversational checklist he’d compiled in his first orbital cycle here and pinned to his HUD for such occasions. Demonstrating that she’s far more intelligent than the other humans he’s previously interacted with, Maggie’s expression remains wary as she returns to her duties behind the reception desk, settling behind her computer and picking up the office telephone. When her eyes continue to remain on him, Barricade escapes her continued scrutiny by hacking into her computer and making the display settings glitch out temporarily. Taking full advantage of the distraction, he relocates his alt form, driving around the side of the building to park in an empty spot not immediately in view of the emergence room. The scout immediately misses the glass wall he’d been able to look through previously as he glares at the unceasingly beige wall of the building currently hiding him.

A low thrum comes over the radio, the audible equivalent of a shrug. ::And have him do what?::

Stupid, slagging 'copter!

Inside the hospital, Maggie shoots to her feet and glares at his holoform, pointing out the glass. "Marshal Rampart? I think something's happening in the back parking lot."

"My partner's checking on it." He tells her, turning his head to display the small earpiece he'd just added to his disguise. She nods but her narrowed eyes follow him until she fully retreats behind the receptionist partition again. ::I dunno. Why don't you two go steal an ambulance or something?::

::What's an 'ambulance?'::

Primus! Must I do everything?

"It's alright, Maggie, tell security not to bother!" Barricade calls just as the alarmed brunette appears again from behind her computer. He can feel his facial spikes bend under the force of his head hitting the ground yet again and wonders if the plating was going to survive the night. After reverting back to his alt mode, he begins hunting for an image file of an ambulance on the human internet and, upon finding a satisfactory one, sends it to Blackout. ::It's a vehicle stocked with medical supplies used to transport injured organics!::

::Oh.:: Was the thoughtful, eloquent response. ::Not sure how that’ll be helpful for a sparkling but sure. How's Sam?::

::Still malfunctioning.:: Barricade sags on his shocks, gaining several curious looks from the very serious-looking hospital security guards now patrolling the area he’s parked in. ::He's not going anywhere for several terracycles.::

Worried clicking comes over the radio, quick and sharp in the scout's audio receptors. ::But he'll be okay, right? They'll repair him? Flush his systems and replace tubing? Machine new parts?::

Uh, yeah… humans didn't, like, repair that way? Barricade shifts his weight from tire to tire, unsure how to answer such a question without panicking the helicopter. It would be easy to simply agree but lying would only come back to bite him in the aft since the bigger mech was prone to retaliation. After getting an update from the hospital files, Barricade transmits a file containing what he knows of Ladiesman217's injuries and what treatment was currently being given. In a rare moment of complete honesty, Barricade responds, ::I have no idea, Blackout.::

But, down to the bottom of his spark, Barricade hopes that the human would be- at least long enough for the scout to dump the human back on the Autobots. After that, the kid was someone else’s problem. 

::The contents of this 'ambulance' will truly help Sam?:: Starscream asks suddenly, breaking into the conversation, a nearly audio-splitting high frequency ticking accompanying the words. Belatedly, Barricade realizes that the noise of the jet’s turbines had gradually gotten quieter and wonders just what trouble the Seeker has decided to get into now. 

::It would definitely improve his chance of recovery. Is there a room his size at the base?:: Barricade asked, and even to his audio receptors his voice drags with fatigue. Running from Bumblebee had put a serious dent in what little energon reserves he had but then having to bail Starscream out of trouble with Ladiesman217, and subsequently being forced to use his holoform had run the scout's already near empty stores down to rust. To keep focused, he uses his sensor arrays to keep track of the hospital security as they point their flashlights at the ground, studying the terrain before moving on to thoroughly patrol the hospital’s little helipad two hundred yards away. He doesn’t know why the idea of the little hospital having a helipad surprises him given that the surrounding mountains must be a hiker’s dream but it does all the same. ::It was a human base- everything in there was his size before the remodeling began. Did you keep any of the original structure intact beyond the lavatory area?::

::You need to recharge.:: The jet abruptly states instead, sounding both surprised by and contemptuous of the concept. ::What have you been doing to be functioning so inefficiently?::

::Starscream…:: Blackout warns, baffling Barricade as the helicopter comes to his defense. They had never been friends- rule number one of the Decepticon army was that no one was your friend- so this was a pleasant yet vaguely disturbing turn of events. The scout wonders if the friendly behavior is due to the 'sparkling's' influence or something else entirely and, as paranoia rears its ugly head, Barricade wonders if he should be worried about Blackout's sudden shift in attitude.

Could be a ploy, could be genuine, but either option sets Barricade’s dente on edge. 

::It is important for him to be operating at peak efficiency since Sam's welfare rests upon the success of this mission!:: 

And suddenly Barricade is very much done with everything.

Hear that snap? That snap right there?

That's the sound of Barricade's patience breaking under the weight of the jet's massive audacity.

::You know what, Starscream? Why don't you park yourself somewhere out of sight and take over if you're so convinced that you can do such a better job?:: Barricade snarls, starting his engine and revving it violently. ::Terrorizing a hospital into doing your bidding won't help get things done any faster- in fact, threatening them leads to a failure to function but, please oh most supreme genius, do go right ahead because you absolutely must have some glorious plan on how to overcome that so they won't kill him through incompetence!::

The scout abruptly shuts down the program responsible for maintaining his holoform and flashed his roller lights in warning just before reversing aggressively and tearing out of the parking lot, tires squealing as he turns onto and speeds down Weimer Road. He honestly doesn’t know where he’s going but, at this point, he doesn’t care- given the sprawling nature of the area and all the flat landscape, finding an out of the way parking lot won’t be difficult. If finding a human made area did prove a problem, there was plenty of desert to hide him effectively until he’d rested enough and, honestly, it’s not as if Barricade hadn’t slept in far worse places over the megavorns.

::Barricade! You cannot abandon a sparkling!:: The jet reprimands, outraged, and the police car can hear the other mech following him overhead.

Reoriented, Barricade speeds up and barrels onto Blueberry Hill Road, angling north with the intention of getting to Taos Regional Airport. He’d hide among the cars parked there and a police cruiser at the airport wouldn’t be as surprising as finding one in a shopping center. Or maybe he had that reversed- either way, he doesn’t care.

::I will report your negligence to Lord Megatron!:: Starscream howls above him and Barricade’s sensors notify him of a target lock.

The scout makes the frequency equivalent of a divisive snort over the comm. line, slamming on his breaks and skidding to a stop in a wide arc just as he turns onto a thankfully empty Highway 64. ::My negligence? You're the one who’s supposed to be caring for him. I was supposed to be in recharge cycles ago but couldn't because I had to save your aft!::

Starscream roars past him, the heat of his engines washing over Barricade in a scalding rush as the Air Commander snarls, ::Lowly, incompetent, grounder!::

::Gigantic ego deflating because this 'lowly, incompetent grounder' knows more than you did?:: Barricade transforms into his bipedal form, his spoke weapon already out and spinning, ready for melee combat as the jet turns around for another pass. The match will be ridiculously uneven, sure, but Barricade is pretty sure his rage will give him enough strength to at least knock some sense into the jet before inevitably off-lining. 

::Head back to base, Barricade.:: Blackout says suddenly, the large helicopter intervening by positioning himself directly overhead Barricade and fouling Starscream's trajectory, forcing the latter to veer suddenly or risk collision with the Pave Low. Barricade shields his optics as he’s pelted with small rocks and other debris kicked up by the combination of rotor downwash and jet exhaust plume. ::Use some of the lubricant in my room to oil your joints and then go get a good recharge. Starscream will go hunt down one of these 'ambulance' things and I'll keep watch on Sam.::

::I am Air Commander here, Blackout!:: Starscream roars, circling the helicopter that stubbornly remains hovering above Barricade, the whine of his weapons' capacitors clear. ::You do not order me around!::

Blackout's voice is harsh but he remains steady, holding position and hovering stubbornly above the scout's smaller frame. ::Then get your head out of your aft and do your fraggin’ job! I'll help you keep watch so unkink your coolant lines, run a systems check, and lead the way, glitch!::

Well, it was nice to know that the helicopter was as tired of the jet's attitude as the police car was. Barricade's spoke weapon spins down to a stop, the blades withdrawing back into the rubber analogue with a sharp snick as the faux police car watches the jet barrel roll away in frustration while angling back toward the hospital nonetheless.

::I think they'll notice a military helicopter no matter how hard you hide.:: Barricade points out, transforming back to his alt mode just as his power cells begin inundating him with low power notifications. He wasn't going to make it to the base but he would make it to the airport as per his original plan. Revving his engine, he begins moving, praying to Primus that he won’t have to generate a holoform again once he gets to the gate. 

.::Yeah, but I got that covered.:: Blackout laughs happily, his low frequencies suddenly becoming high and quick and, with a start, Barricade realizes he’s never heard the other make such a sound before. Generally, when bigger mechs were laughing it was due to some newly invented cruelty and smaller mechs like the scout knew to run for cover lest they become subjected to said new ‘entertainment.’ Barricade manages to control the impulse and hold still but he wants to flinch at this new noise that was neither forced nor malicious, the brief bark of sound there and gone in a flash just as the larger Decepticon's paint nanites abruptly ripple into a new pattern. ::They gotta give me access to their heliport now.::

::…You do realize that this is an ocean of sand, right, not water?:: In a rare show of brilliance, Blackout had changed the matte black color scheme of his still very American, very military alt mode to mimic the paint job normally seen only on rescue helicopters used by… the American Coast Guard. As long as no one noticed the big gun turret on the front or the massive engines just beneath the rotors and didn’t question why in the Pit a slagging Coast Guard helicopter was working the middle of the desert, everything would work out fine.

::Sand. Water. The squishies won’t notice. Both of the airport lots are uncovered but park in the dirt lot if you can and uncover your solar collectors. It’ll hide you from view of the office and be quieter.::

After a brief debate, Barricade decides to take the other's advice and let the Pave Low continue on its way without further comment, listening to the massive rotors bite the air as Blackout herds the angry F-22 back toward the hospital. As the helicopter nears, however, it becomes obvious that new paint scheme wasn't going to be the only issue since there was no way Blackout was going to be able to land his fat aft on the significantly smaller helipad without potentially crushing something.

Well, that was the ‘copter’s problem to figure out now. 

Via the police scanner incorporated into his alt mode's radio, Barricade begins picking up panicked chatter from the local law enforcement concerning the two air frames. Admittedly, a Pave Low and an F-22 were an usual sight and were definitely something to worry about, especially within city limits, and Barricade wracks his cortex trying to figure out even a somewhat believable reason for their presence as he pulls into the airport’s parking lot. There aren’t a lot of cars to hide among, unfortunately, but he makes do, using one of those ridiculously big pick up trucks rural Americans find so appealing as cover behind. As Blackout had mentioned, the lot is completely uncovered and any car left in it is going to bake once the sun rises. Barricade listens to his engine tick gently and makes sure his solar collectors are clear as he settles heavily onto his shocks, common sense and fear for his continued functioning managing to beat back his grudge against Starscream long enough to blurt out a believable explanation to the local constabulary for the presence of the pair about a covert military urban infill and exfill night-time practice operation.

His good deed done for the day, Barricade powers down for a well deserved rest, dreaming of all the ways he was going to cash-in the favor Starscream owed him. Demanding the other's energon ration wouldn't get him anywhere since they were different frame types but there had to be some perks that Starscream, the Air Commander of the Decepticon Army, second only to Megatron himself, enjoyed that Barricade- a lowly infiltration scout- did not. Hmm… a soak in a nice hot oil bath sounded wonderful… lubricate all his joints… Stupid, slagging sand…

::You were woefully misinformed.:: Starscream’s smug voice in his audio is not how Barricade ever wants to wake up and he expresses his displeasure with an inarticulate snarl over the radio. ::And you also owe Blackout an apology. Sam has recovered sufficiently and we are returning to base.::

Even with the energy his solar arrays had collected while he recharged in the sun, Barricade is no where near awake enough to deal with this level of slag. What in the Pit was the jet talking about? There was no possible way that Ladiesman217 was anywhere near ready to leave the hospital, not with all the injuries he'd accumulated during the Mission City fight and his time spent with a well meaning but woefully inept Starscream for a nursemaid. Well, now that he was online enough to think about it, there was one possibility but considering the city was still intact and the jet was so fragging chipper, Barricade doubted the kid had died.

They day was still young, however.

::I dunno what happened,:: Barricade growls, revving his engine and startling a group of humans making small talk near the airport’s main office. ::But put him back! I swear to Primus, Starscream, you better put him back right this klik or I will glue your rudder straight and your flaps in opposite directions!::

::It would be most entertaining to witness you attempt such a thing.:: Starscream taunts, obviously very pleased with himself. And happy, which was just entirely too creepy for Barricade to process as the faux police car guns his engine, turning on his lights and sirens to encourage the other cars on the road to get out of his way.

::Did the hospital clear him for discharge? Did they say you could take him?:: Barricade demands, part of him incredibly curious as to how that interaction had transpired. There had been nothing over the police comms that indicated the hospital had been attacked or any reports of giant metal monsters stomping around the place so logic would dictate that one or both Decepitcons had pulled their heads out of their aft long enough to manipulate the human staff into doing their bidding. 

::Why would we need their permission?:: Blackout asks, sounding clearly perplexed as he enters the conversation through a common Decepticon frequency channel. Starscream must have been relaying the conversation to the helicopter in real time because Barricade certainly hadn’t invited him into the discussion.

If he had he been prone to such behavior, Barricade would have screamed in frustration. Instead he merely speeds up, flying down the highway and nearly ramming other motorists out of his path when they’re too slow or too unwilling to acknowledge his presence. Ignoring Blackout's question, the scout poses his own. ::Is he awake? Is he actually talking coherently to you?::

::He vocalizes regularly.:: Starscream responds irritably, undoubtably unhappy over having his decisions questioned which is funny because, as far as the scout was aware, it was the unofficial Decepticon past time to constantly question the Air Commander’s behavior.

That so didn't answer Barricade's question- technically anything ranging from screaming incoherently to a detailed discussion about purple unicorns could fit under the description of ‘vocalizes regularly.’ Fighting desperately to keep his anxiety under control, the scout tries something more nuanced. ::Can he orient himself to time and place?::

::Not sure.:: Blackout says thoughtfully. ::But he's not screaming and his systems sound fine.::

It was doubtful that the faux helicopter knew what a fleshbag’s systems were supposed to sound like given that they were usually dead by the time Blackout got up close and personal with one but at least the other mech realized there should be some sound. The jury was still out in regards to the lack of screaming being a good sign, though.

::Play me the audio.:: Barricade demands, deciding he was probably the only one who would be able to determine Ladiesman217’s condition with any accuracy. An astrosecond later he could hear Blackout addressing the squishy directly, asking the human if he knew what solar it was. The answer made the scout's spark freeze because, honestly, there really wasn't one. Sure the human spoke but it was just nonsense, the soft and slurred syllables only barely resembling actual language sounds. Cross referencing the behavior against the information he'd hacked from the medical archives did nothing to make Barricade feel any better but there was only so much he could diagnose through audio alone. ::Whoever has him, send me a video clip of him as he is at this klik.::

It’s Blackout who sends him the file. ::His systems are operating within parameters, both as a sparkling and a squishy. His auto-repair system has kicked in and there's no trace of the energon in his system. His internal fluid pressure is a bit low but he's offline again so that's not too surprising. He's fine, you glitch, so calm down.::

Ignoring the helicopter, Barricade opens the file, picking out key elements of the picture and running them through an analysis program. Half his face was slack in a way that it simply should not have been since the other half of the human's face held at least a trace of the tension one expected to see in even a sensor blocked teenager. The lack of mobility combined with the teenager's inability to say something coherent when prompted was especially damning considering that Barricade knew for a fact that Sam had not exhibited such behavior before now.

Sam was not fine.

The question now was how much could Barricade mitigate the accumulating damage.

Filthy and annoyed, Megatron has to fight to keep his expression neutral as he looks over the group in front of him. Starscream was glaring defiantly at a very dirty Barricade, gesturing expressively at the ground frame. The scout‘s attention seems to be on something held in his hands, however, and he continues to ignore the larger frame beyond making an unmistakably threatening whine. Blackout towers over them both, making placating gestures at the two awkwardly until both mechs turned to glare at him. With the exception of the grounder, who continued to make that damnable armor rattling racket, the entire scene takes place in silence, casting it in an almost theatrical manner.

::What they doing?:: Brawl asks Megatron privately, coming to stand behind the Decepticon leader. The M1A1 Abrams tank was still brushing occasionally at the dirt and concrete smears that marred his armor as he inclined his head at the trio who continued to gesticulate animatedly at one another and ignore all else. 

"I do not know." Megatron drawls aloud, inwardly frowning as the trio flinch and realize for the first time that he was present. "But I do expect to find out. Now."

Starscream and Blackout both drop to the ground, kneeling in supplication before him. Barricade nods in recognition but remains standing, the object cradled in his hands held gently against his chassis. The rattling coming from the scout also continued though now it was joined by the unmistakable subtle whine of a weapon’s capacitor charging.

Interesting.

Ignoring the noise for now, Megatron instead concentrated on the body language displayed in front of it. Bowing was a way to show respect to someone of higher ranking but it could also be used to help gauge the mindset of the one preforming the act. The depth of the bow’s angle, how much of the body touched the ground, the quickness and efficiency with which it was done could all provide the other party information with which to calculate their advantage. Considering that both air frames were almost on the ground, the pair must be feeling fairly guilty over some transgression that they acknowledged they were in the wrong over. Barricade, however, seemed firmly set on the opposite end of the spectrum given his uncharacteristic blatant display of anger, almost challenging Megatron's authority. Megatron could not remember ever seeing the scout so outright defiant.

Very interesting.

"You were not authorized to leave yesterday." Megatron states, feigning disinterest while watching his underlings carefully. Barricade’s fanatically independent nature and Starscream’s duplicitous scheming were nothing new but Blackout being an accomplice to either was definitely outside the norm. "Yet all three of you did. What was so pressing that you left knowing you were risking my wrath?"

Unsurprisingly it is Starscream who stands first, leaping to explain and predictably pass the blame to someone else. "Lord Megatron! Barricade made an observation regarding Sam's health that required immediate attention."

"Did he?" Megatron's gaze shifts to focus squarely on the mech in question. Defiant, Barricade glowers back at him, all four red optics bright with fury. "What exactly was this pressing observation?"

The silence that followed was thick and heavy and no one seemed in any hurry to break it.

Something unpleasant seems to brush across Megatron’s spark, something cold and dark and frightening as he realizes that he is missing the newest member of their little army. "Where is Sam? What has happened to our sparkling?"

'Our' not 'my.' The word choice is deliberate, designed to remind them that they all had a vested interest in Sam's care, and it had the desired effect as behind him Brawl crowds closer, standing a little straighter and shedding more dust over Megatron’s pedes. Barricade hunches his shoulders a bit more but it isn't a sign of submission, more of a defensive move as the aggressive whine increases, ratcheting up to something akin to the continuous roar of a buzz-saw. With mild surprise, the Decepticon leader realizes that the scout is clicking, the monotonous beat underscoring the cacophony emanating from him and seeming to make both of the bigger mechs on the floor shrink in on themselves. 

"What has happened to our sparkling?" Megatron repeats, closing the distance between himself and the others before him, his tone making sure that the others know that someone had better answer the slagging question this time.

‘Accidentally’ kicking Starscream in the side as he passes, Barricade takes a step forward before Megatron can get fully within arm’s length, standing in front of him and presenting the small curled form held in his phalanges to Megatron's optics.

"He's stroked out." The police car says flatly, pinging a file to the Decepticon leader as he speaks. "Thanks to Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber here, his circuits are permanently fried."

"Who?" Warily running a viral scan on it, Megatron opens the file and begins sorting through the information inside, becoming more and more confused as he continues to read. "Barricade, why are you sending me information about a crippling human condition? Sam is a sparkling and this can be repaired."

Dust and sand began sifting to the floor in a continuous shower as Barricade begins to tremble. The movement began subtly with the plating of his pedes, sweeps up his legs and spreads loudly throughout his torso and chassis until the mech was practically coming apart at his armor seams he was rattling so much. Despite this, it was with the utmost care that the faux police car opened part of his pectoral plating and placed Sam inside the revealed space before shutting the plating again and letting his arms fall to his side as he turned all four eyes on Megatron and glared, radiating anger like an unshielded nuclear reactor core leaked radiation.

For a variety of reasons, Megatron had always regarded Barricade as weak, as less, but, as the scout's armor retracts and flares to reveal his many weapons modifications in a massive threat display, the Decepticon leader wondered if this assessment had been a serious oversight.

The loud, audio damaging cacophony of noise abruptly cut out as the interceptor widened his stance, curled his phalanges into fists, and seemed to detonate like a war-head at the Decepticon leader's feet.

"IT IS NOT A SPARKLING!" Barricade roars, both aloud and over the comm. relays at a volume loud enough to temporarily short out Megatron's hearing. Megatron staggers back, dimly aware that he is not the only one reacting as if physically struck, and instinctively reaches up to protect his external audio receptors. By the time Megatron’s hearing recovers, the scout has a small caliber missile aimed at Starscream's head but is thankfully nearly done with his tirade. "-PIT SLAGGING, GLITCHING PIECE OF SLAG! COME NEAR HIM AGAIN AND I'LL SEND YOU TO THE UNMAKER MYSELF, FRAGGER!"

Growling into the silence that follows his tantrum, his ventilation systems whirling loudly, Barricade glares up at Megatron, salutes formally, and, with a “My Lord!” so curt that it sounds like a curse, turns his back on them all to stalk down a corridor to Megatron's left, weapons still blatantly visible.

"Well," Brawl says as the four mechs watch the other go. "That was different. Want me to go get him?"

"…No. Leave him alone for now." Deciding that it would be better to allow Barricade time to cool down, Megatron instead turns his attention to the remaining two in front of him. "Would someone care to explain what is wrong with Barricade? And our sparkling?"

Though he makes an effort to reign in his rapidly fraying temper before asking the question, his displeasure must still leak into his vocal pattern since both Starscream and Blackout quail under his gaze. Megatron barely manages to keep himself from ex-venting in frustration even as he reminds himself that they were all attempting to adapt to their new circumstances. Many of the Decepticons were still recovering from their injuries and much of his day had been spent aiding with the remodeling and harvesting what energy he could from the environment surrounding their new home. Apparently, he had been quite remiss in prioritizing the establishment of their new base over managing his subordinates or even allowing himself some time for self-reflection.

It wasn’t until now that Megatron had had time to begin questioning much of the alarming behavior many of his underlings displayed. Behavior did not simply manifest in a vacuum and, not for the first time since escaping Mission City, Megatron finds himself wondering if the answer to this mystery lies in his corrupted memory files. There are simply too many unexplained issues to fully dismiss the possibility but his attempts to undo the quarantine and repair the missing parts of his memory always end in failure. He does not like the strange thrill of dark pleasure that spills through him when his subordinates cower in fear before him nor does he understand how extreme violence has become his almost default response to any minor inconvenience. 

It takes an inordinate amount of self control to keep his negative impulses under control. Even now, he has to fight back the urge to simply beat a response out of the pair of flyers because he still has not received an answer to his question and, despite his earlier statement, Sam’s welfare is wholly his responsibility as leader. It nags at him, the need to go after Barricade, to drag the scout back and forcibly snatch the sparkling from the other’s care. It does not matter that, logically, doing so will accomplish nothing but harm to all involved. If the always aloof Barricade has abruptly deigned to involve himself in such a matter so deeply, then there must be a logical reason behind it and Megatron need only wait to understand.

Megatron hated waiting.

Keeping a tight grip on his temper, the Decepticon leader turns to Brawl and takes care to keep his voice neutral as he speaks. 

“It seems as though we all have had some interesting adventures today. In one cycle, everyone is to gather for a debrief of activities. I want to know what everyone has been up to today before anyone is dismissed for recharge. Starscream, Blackout, I especially want to hear what you two and Barricade have been up to with Sam. Do you understand?”

The flyers nod into the floor, muttering quiet agreement in small voices. The urge to grab Starscream and shake the other until something shatters makes the plating of Megatron’s hands tingle unpleasantly. The Decepticon leader curls his hands into fists instead and keeps his arms at his sides as he turns, taking the hallway to his right to get to the wash racks, his pace calm despite the dissatisfaction building within him.

Brawl follows him like a patient shadow and part of Megatron wants to snarl at the other to leave him in peace. The Decepticon leader remains silent, though, and accepts the formal salute offered by the faux tank when they part ways outside the wash racks with a calm nod.

As he busies himself with ridding his armor of the evidence of his prior demolition activities, Megatron's thoughts turn to the sparkling under their care and the simple, primal desire to keep it tightly in his grasp. Barricade is an incredibly capable scout and is neither foolish nor stupid enough to harm a sparkling, traits Megatron recognizes and values. Mollified at the reminder of the scout’s skills, Megatron feels his thoughts turn to other matters as he stands under the deluge of solvent. 

No, what preoccupies the Decepticon leader is the perplexing but incessant need to keep Sam close to him at all. It is the height of illogical processes given Megatron’s status; attending to his duties must be his priority at all times as the survival of the group is imperative, sparkling or not. The set up of their base was in its infancy and required most of his processing abilities- he cannot let his attention be consumed with sparkling-sitting. It is why he had delegated such a task to Starscream initially as the Air Commander would be fully able to protect the sparkling and administer care while Megatron oversaw the remodeling of the facility for their usage.

And yet, even now, part of Megatron wants to run and find the sparkling and keep it near like some precious trinket.

There is gravel stuck in the plating of his pedes, he discovers, his temper flaring sharply at this latest irritation. Attacking it with a wire brush is immensely satisfying until new alerts appear on his HUD about more stones in other places they do not belong and Megatron decides that the wire brush will not be enough. A heavy application of solvent solves the issues but, by the time he finishes, it is nearly time for the briefing he himself had called. Not in the best of moods and practically dripping excess solvent down the empty corridor, Megatron indulges his temper and stomps down the hallway toward his receiving room, though he resumes a calmer pace once he nears his destination.

“Rise.” He commands to the assembled bowing and saluting mechs once he’s seated on his throne. A quick scan of the room reveals that Barricade is missing, as is Sam, and Megatron can’t help the flare of temper he has at that realization. It is undoubtably Starscream’s fault, he determines, and the resulting absolute conviction about that inane conclusion startles the Decepticon leader. Disturbed, Megatron distracts himself by driving the tip of his talon into the armrest of his stone seat and begins carving patterns so he doesn’t resort to abusing his subordinates to mollify his anger. 

Brawl had insisted he have seating befitting Megatron’s position and the Decpticon leader, preoccupied with fixing Sam, had just let the faux tank do as he wanted. Megatron had since regretted that decision but there was nothing to do about the carefully arranged slabs now. Megatron waits, watching the pair of flyers watch him idly doodle, and wonders who will break first. 

He’s betting on Starscream. It pays off.

“My Lord,” Starscream begins, managing to grovel while standing. “You are aware that, though our efforts to care for Sam have been heroic, they have still proven insufficient. While attempting to engage the sparkling’s interest in our new home, I encountered Barricade who brought to my attention a… fundamental flaw in our previous attempts. Given the grounder’s greater experience on this planet and Sam’s continuing decline, I could not merely ignore his suggestions of care.” 

Megatron listens silently, watching with mild curiosity as Starscream’s body language gradually shifts from submissive to defiant as the tale continues.

“And what exactly was Barricade’s oh so brilliant observation?” The Decepticon leader asks mildly, pausing in his doodling. 

“Sparkling’s a mimic.” Blackout is the one who answers, the large mech shrugging at the sharp look the Air Commander gives him. “It’s pretending to be a squishy so gotta treat it as one.”

“And you all left to get such treatment?” Megatron asks, keeping his voice light even as his processor seems to go into overload. No sparkling, no matter how advanced, would be able to pass as an organic upon the close inspection required for medical intervention from the humans. The shell could change but not the base internal structure and if Sam had been been able to fool the humans, then that meant their sparkling could not-

—Cool blue energy sparks in his cortex, spilling through code until it isolates that strand of thought and deletes it before the conclusion can come to fruition as his Nesting protocols are activated. Preserving Sam Witwicky’s life was his priority, not figuring out the sparkling’s origins—

Megatron’s optics shutter abruptly and it becomes evident that he has missed the answer to his question. He pauses, waiting to feel some sort of negative reaction to such an error, and is rather surprised when all he feels is a slight sting of embarrassment. His temper lies quiet within him and he marvels at how clear headed he abruptly feels. The pair of flyers are looking at him expectantly though Starscream seems to be anticipating violence if the way his armor plating has locked tight to his frame is any indication. 

“My apologies,” Megatron says, still inwardly shocked at how unbothered he is at admitting such a thing. The well of anger he had been fighting to control the whole day has seemingly evaporated and it is wonderful. “The demolition from earlier seems to have damaged my audio receptors. Can you repeat your response?”

He is polite and kind in his request, he thinks, and hates that his display of humility seems to just inspire more terror in his followers.

Widening his stance as if to better absorb a blow, Blackout answers him along with the Air Commander. “Yes.”

With that wildly informative answer, Megatron forces himself to lean back fully on his throne and decide on a course of action. He cannot have his troops leaving so recklessly whenever they want nor can he have them drawing attention to their new residence. He sincerely doubts that whatever steps the pair took to blend in were successful given that they both mimic human military ordinance- in fact the only Decepticon currently able to wander freely without issue would be Barricade, their recon scout.

Who had still not appeared with Sam.

Megatron is not sure how he had ignored such an obvious absence until now. “Where is Barricade?”

“My Lord,” Unexpectedly, it is Brawl who turns toward him, saluting respectfully. “Perhaps, for now, it would be best to leave the grounder to care for Sam, given that his idea of seeking organic assistance was successful?”

Megatron cants his head to one side, turning his attention back to the pair of flyers. “The three of you were having quite the animated conversation earlier. Was Barricade’s idea correct? Did Sam’s condition improve after organic aid?”

The thought of any human near a vulnerable sparkling makes the Decepticon leader’s spark anxious and gives new life to the vague memories of own treatment at the hands of the organics. Even if the ever paranoid Barricade was the one overseeing treatment, Megatron still despises the idea. However, if letting Sam terminate through their own negligence was the alternative, then so be it.  

Starscream and Blackout give each other furtive glances and Megatron feels his spark sink as the pair haltingly confirm that, yes, seeking organic medical intervention had indeed positively affected their sparkling. However, given the inefficiency of delivery and slow speed of improvement, the impatient Air Commander had made the decision to prematurely end the experiment and return Sam to Decepticon care. Barricade was convinced this had resulted in adverse side effects on Sam. 

Megatron’s previous assumption had been correct- it was indeed Starscream’s fault- and the well of anger always lurking so close to the front of his cortex and emotional default makes itself known all over again, this time more vengeful and vindictive as if to make up for lost time. It becomes very hard to not give in to the urge for violence now that he has confirmed the sparkling’s condition is still decidedly poor.

In an effort to burn off some of his temper, Megatron stands and begins pacing back and forth across the dais, hands clenching absently as he struggles not to sink his claws into the jet’s wings and begin tearing metal free.

“Did Barricade give either of you instructions about what supplies he may need?” Though he attempts to control his anger, it still bleeds into his vocal processor and all three mechs hit the floor in a display of subservience that makes that strange dark impulse inside him shiver pleasantly. 

“He requested an ‘ambulance’ before he sought recharge.” Starscream says into the floor, armor plates locked tight. “He thought the contents would aid Sam’s recovery.”

“Then I suggest you go get him one.” Megatron growls, baring his dente as he glares at the unmoving pair. “NOW!”

The pair of flyers scramble from the room and the Decepticon leader orders Brawl out as well as his rage hits flashpoint. He turns it on his throne, sinking his claws into the slabs and letting his fury loose, raining down blow after blow until the servos in his shoulder assemblies whine in misery. He wallows in the destruction, glorying in the pure simplicity of reducing something to so much rubble and by the time he is done only small chunks of debris remain of what had once been his seat of power.

Through the haze of error messages clouding his HUD and loud rush of circfluid in his audios, he dimly realizes that he is once more covered in dust and there is gravel in his pedes. As the all too brief burst of pleasure from indulging his impulses drains away, embarrassment and disappointment creep in to take its place, and Megatron feels his anger spike once more as he stares at his latest ‘accomplishment.’ Gritting his dente, he begins cleaning up his mess and vaguely wonders when his ability to control himself waned so dramatically.

He is utterly filthy by the time he finishes and needs another trip to the wash racks.

Cleaning himself up will give him time to compose the apology he owes Brawl for destroying the other mech’s hard work.