Work Text:
Miles sighed and kicked at a rock. He watched as it flew a couple of inches down the road, but then he lost track of it. That was easy to do here where the road was almost the same color as the dried dirt that made up the rest of the ground. It was the middle of summer and he was stuck here in Perfection, Nevada where there was a whole lot of nothing to do beyond chores and wishing one was somewhere else. It was so boring he could almost cry.
He longed for Tranquility, where his best friend, Sam, was happily wasting his summer away with his girlfriend, Mikaela. He missed staying up all night and spending his time gaming or going over to Sam’s and forcing his friend to watch scary movies while he and Mikaela laughed at Sam’s girlish shrieks of terror. Hell, he even missed Mikaela’s lessons on cars. For whatever reason she had decided they needed to bond, and she had figured the best way to do that would be by teaching Miles something new while playing around under the hood of Sam’s kick ass Camaro, and Miles had been enjoying himself enough that he had never complained.
If it hadn’t been for Valentine McKee, Miles wouldn’t be in this stupid, boring town at all. Valentine was his mother’s younger brother, and his mother had decided it would do Miles and Val some good to spend time together. She had said something about Miles making Val more responsible, but so far Miles was pretty sure he had failed in that respect. Even Earl Basset, Val’s older friend and the man he worked with doing odd jobs around Perfection and the nearby towns, couldn’t get Val to screw his head on straight half the time.
The town was so out of the way and blocked off by the surrounding mountains that Miles couldn’t even get any cell reception, instead having to rely on the town’s general store and the outdated payphone just to try to reach civilization. The town’s general store was really the only building of interest on the main street, and it was owned by Walter Chang. Earl still said things like “pardon my French”, as if no one had heard a swear word before, and Miles was afraid that if Earl got his way then he would forget how to act like a teen.
“Hey, brat!” Val called.
Miles turned to look at him, but Earl beat him to a response.
“Takes one to know one, kid.” Earl snorted.
“You shut it, ol’ man!” Val scowled.
Miles tried his hardest not to grin and walked over to the pair. The two were always sniping back and forth over something, and had a long standing habit of doing rock, paper, scissors to see who got the shortest stick during whatever job they were doing. Right now the two were standing over a police cruiser that had seen better days. Miles read the ‘to punish and enslave’ slogan on the side and wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“You know anythin’ ‘bout cars?” Val asked as soon as he walked up.
“Depends on the engine,” Miles said. He kicked the boot of the car just to watch some of the dust and grime fall off the exterior, “Well, to be honest, I’ve only actually worked on one and it was pretty new. My friend ‘Kaela is an awesome mechanic, so I can probably recognize some things. This heap of junk looks pretty old, though, and it’s in pretty bad shape. And that slogan on the side… who the hell does this even belong to?”
“Hey!” Earl glared at him, “We’re being paid sixty bucks to fix this thing and I don’t want to have to buy any new parts, so don’t kick it again, brat.”
Miles raised his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender, “Got it, Sergeant.”
“And it belongs to Burt, of course.” Val added. “No idea where he got it from and I don’t care, but Heather wants that line painted over.”
Of course it was Burt Gummer. He was the most paranoid man that Miles had ever met. Burt was certain that the next world war was just around the corner and had made his house into an actual bunker because of it, with five years’ worth of food and water stocked inside. Most of those in Perfection were certain he had every gun known to man, and a few that even the military hadn’t seen. His wife, Heather, was the only one who could talk sense into him, and every Perfectionist saw her as a blessing. If she hadn’t been around then Burt would be a lot less popular.
“Pop the hood and let me take a look,” Miles told his uncle.
Val reached into the police car and did just that. Miles moved around to the front of the car and peered inside, eyes widening at what he saw. Though the car looked like trash, the engine was nearly identical to the one in Sam’s new Camaro. Miles brought out his phone and snapped a quick picture to show Mikaela whenever he returned home. She would be so jealous that he got to work on such a beautiful engine without her.
“Damn,” Miles whistled. “This thing must have been a movie prop or something. It’s actually a Saleen cruiser!”
“English, Miles.” Burt and Val demanded at the same time.
“It’s a high performance vehicle,” Miles explained. “This baby can probably go over 260mph easily if we replace that back tire. This might be better than Sam’s engine!”
“What kind of car does Sam have?” Burt came over to peer inside at the engine as well.
“He got a fifth gen Camaro as some sort of government payoff. Likes to call it Bumblebee because it’s canary yellow and has black racing stripes,” Miles’ focus turned to the engine before him. “There are a few things loose in here. I'll need to replace one doohickey.”
“Doohickey?” Val scoffed, “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Just because I can’t remember the names doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing,” Miles defended himself. “Get me the tool chest and five minutes in Walter’s store, and I’ll be able to make this thing purr. Oh, and twenty of that sixty.”
“No deal!” Val refused immediately.
“Unless you want to get a real mechanic to fix this thing, and good luck with that all the way out here!” Miles smirked, shutting the hood and trailing a hand along it. “Plus, with an engine like this? Guarantee it’d cost way more than what you’ll be paid.”
Earl laughed, "The kid reminds me of you, Val."
"You shut your mouth, Earl." Val grumbled, kicking at the dirt. "Come on, we gotta go catch those stupid cows."
Unbeknownst to the entire town of Perfection, they had an alien in their midst. The police cruiser was actually a Decepticon from the planet Cybertron, in hiding after the Decepticon faction lost to the Autobots during the battle at Mission City. The Cybertronians had chased the Allspark, a powerful cube-like structure that their god, Primus, used to create them and their children, all the way to Earth when Megatron started the Great War.
And now Barricade was stuck. He had entertained the idea of killing the fleshling called Burt Gummer, but he had eventually decided against it. Burt had found him in a junkyard about an hour from Mission City and had then had him towed all the way to Perfection. The mad human seemed intent on fixing him up, and while his own systems were doing what they could, the fleshling would help move repairs along faster. Which was good, because there was no medic he could go to anymore, and there was no way that he wanted to still be injured when the Autobots finally figured out he was alive.
To preserve his own sanity, Barricade had settled into a light stasis cycle. Alert enough that he would respond if anything major happened to his frame, but his outermost layer of receptors were turned off so that he would not have to suffer the feeling of the disgusting organic hands that touched them or listen to their meaningless conversations. And he had stayed like that until Miles Lancaster came along.
He recognized Miles from when he and Frenzy had done their research on LadiesMan217. Sam and Miles had a number of photos together on both myspace and facebook, cementing their friendship in the eyes of any wanting to find out more about one of them. As soon as he had recognized the teen he had turned on his auditory receptors, now interested in listening to what was going on around him. He didn’t expect Miles to blurt out anything about Bumblebee or the Autobots as a whole, but it was better to be prepared.
He was satisfied when it was Miles who began to work on his engine. Barricade had easily overheard the conversation between Miles and the older organics when Miles talked about working on Bumblebee’s engine, and he knew that even if Miles had no idea that Bumblebee was sentient he still at least knew his way around a Cybertronian engine. And if Miles did do something he didn’t like then it would be easy enough to kill the tiny organic.
It was hard for him to tell if Miles knew or not. He didn’t seem scared by the noticeable Decepticon symbol on his engine, so Barricade was inclined to think that he had no idea about Cybertronians. He had even played a song through his radio when Miles had missed tightening something properly, some femme singing about ‘to the left, to the left’ and Miles had muttered about weird air waves messing with stuff because of the mountains.
Even right now, the teen was dutifully working on fixing his engine up properly. Barricade was just grateful that the tiny organic hands didn’t feel as disgusting as he had imagined. Miles’ touch was actually nearing pleasant. Whoever had allowed him at Bumblebee’s engine had obviously made sure he learned how to be gentle.
“HEY, MILES!” Walter hollered.
Barricade had no idea why Walter bothered to yell when he was parked right in front of Walter’s store and Walter was leaning out of the open window. Miles responded to the scream by slamming his head off of Barricade’s hood in surprise, and Barricade listened to the cussing that followed with some amusement. He had found that, to his growing horror, he was beginning to grow more fond of the organics he spent so much time around.
He scanned Miles as the teen turned around to face Walter to find his body flushed with more adrenaline than Barricade was used to seeing when he got startled. That wasn’t a surprise—the whole town was on edge since the town drunk had been found up a phone tower, dead from dehydration. Val was convinced something had chased him up there, and Miles had picked up on his uncle’s fear.
“What, Walter?” Miles groaned. “You scared the shit outta me!”
“Got a call for you,” Walter responded, and Barricade could see the shit-eating grin on the older man’s face.
"Oh, from my mom? Tell her I'll be there in a second." Miles turned back around, diving back in under Barricade's hood.
"No, from your buddy Sam."
"Sam?" Miles paused in his work, "Uh, okay, tell him the same thing. I gotta clean off my hands and then close this baby up."
Barricade was still undecided about being referred to as 'baby'. He knew the fleshlings saw it as a term of endearment, even when using it towards a supposedly inanimate object. It was at least better than being insulted and called a piece of junk.
Miles finished tightening a bolt, cleaned his hands off with the rag he’d taken to carrying around in his back pocket, and then closed Barricade’s hood. Barricade watched as he walked the two feet over to Walter’s open window and grabbed the proffered phone, pulling it out until the line was as stretched as it could go. Barricade quickly hacked into the call.
“Hey, Sam!” Miles greeted.
“Remember that story me and ‘Kaela are making?” Sam didn’t bother with pleasantries and instead jumped right to the reason for his call, “With the two warring alien factions and how they come to Earth?”
Miles sighed, “Really, Sam? It’s great you and ‘Kaela are doing something productive in your alone time, but go have sex or something! The story is not that good. Y’all are starting it at such a weird point, when the whole thing is practically over.”
Barricade was intrigued. Miles was aware of Cybertronians, but he believed them to be entirely fictional. He wasn’t sure why Sam had bothered to tell Miles without telling him. Most likely he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone at all that didn’t already know, and Barricade wondered just how much the Autobot scout knew about what was going on.
“Awe, c’mon, Miles! We’re working on it still,” Sam wheedled. “We just like the feedback! What do you think they should do now that their artifact was destroyed?”
“The whole thing is stupid,” Miles complained. “These are supposedly some super advanced beings, at least compared to us, right? So why are they still fighting at all now that their home and that artifact are destroyed? I mean, they were obviously able to get along at various points throughout their history, so why not cause a ceasefire? Put an end to the bloodshed and just try to live however they can? Honestly, a story about moving on after a war is over would be cooler than the needless deaths y’all have going on right now.”
“Ha!” Sam let out a triumphant laugh, “Yes, I totally agree! Bum–Mikaela needed to hear that!” There was a pause and Barricade could just barely pick up Bumblebee making a remark in the background, something along the lines of Miles seeming more irritable. He knew that Miles himself wouldn’t be able to hear it, “Anyway, what’s going on with you? That time of the month?”
So Bumblebee was fully aware of what Sam was doing. Barricade contemplated disconnecting the call, but he figured that would be too obvious. He didn’t need Bumblebee to probe the line and get a snippet of his signature.
“Mikaela’s obviously not there if you’re making that joke,” Miles noted dryly. “And, yeah, I’m… not doing too hot. Earl and Val found the town drunk dead on top of a tower. The doc said he died of dehydration, but that shit takes three days! That means he willingly stayed up there to die, Sam. Val thinks something chased him up there because he had his gun in his lap, but… I dunno. Figure a gun would make him feel safe, y’know? And now Walter, that little shit Melvin, and especially freakin’ Burt are going insane over the idea of a killer on—” Miles cut himself off when the other line went dead. “Sam? Sam?”
There was nothing, and Barricade was annoyed. He hadn’t been the one to cut the line, but if Bumblebee prodded then he still might figure it out, and that was the last thing he needed. Even with Megatron to reverse engineer from, humans made incredibly shitty things. And what Miles said was making him think, which was never a good thing even in his own book.
In an effort to keep his mind off things, Miles continued to work on the police car. He was now officially stuck in Perfection, Nevada. The only real road out was blocked and the construction workers who had been working to clear the rubble off the road were dead. On top of that, the doctor and his wife were also dead. When Earl and Val had returned to town they had learned that it was a something killing everyone, and not a someone.
It had been wrapped around their rear axle and looked like some kind of weird, rubbery snake. The thing was probably about the same length as Miles, but only a few inches around. Miles had never seen anything like it in his life and he wasn’t quite clear on how it had managed to kill all those people. He desperately hoped he would never find out, because the snake thing was definitely dead.
Walter had bought it off Earl and Val for fifteen dollars, and had then begun selling pictures with the thing for three dollars a shot. Miles had left the general store to work on the police car after that, because he was too disturbed to be around the thing.
As human watching was his new favorite pastime, Barricade paid the situation due attention. He had also never seen anything like the creature that Val and Earl had brought back, but unlike Miles he had been to many different worlds and seen many different types of organics. This one was the oddest he had ever seen.
“Yo, Miles, come get a picture with this thing!” Val called out the door of Walter’s store, “Sis’d love us together with the lil’ devil!”
“No thanks!” Miles didn’t even look up from where he was buffing out the numerous scratches.
“Your loss!”
Miles snorted, and Barricade entered a light recharge under the work of the fleshling's skilled touch. Since Miles had been unknowingly trained to work on Cybertronians, his touch was far gentler than most other organic’s would bother with. He also paid attention to certain spots that a normal car wouldn’t require attention on. Luckily, the only other car he had touched was Barricade, who appreciated the change from the way Earl and Val had treated him.
Barricade became slightly more aware when his sensors picked up another fleshling making its way towards them, but he settled down when he realized it was Melvin. Melvin was just entering his teenage years, and even Barricade found him an annoying spoiled brat. Miles had tried to make friends, but had quickly taken to dragging submission and respect out of the younger boy when that hadn’t panned out. It worked perfectly, as Melvin often needed to be shown who was boss.
But now Melvin was sneaking up on Miles, and Miles was none the wiser.
“AHHHH, MILES, WATCH OUT!” Melvin screamed and tossed the snake thing at Miles.
The combination of Melvin's scream, and the dead creature hitting him successfully ended in Miles screaming, shooting up, and tripping over his own feet in an effort to get away. He ended up tripping over the curb and falling to his knees in his panic. It also alerted everyone inside of the general store, and Val, Earl, and Burt came racing out.
"GOD DAMMIT, MELVIN!" Earl shouted, "I'm gonna kick your fucking ass if you pull another stunt like that!"
"Not if I get him first!" Miles growled, getting up and chasing after the younger male. Barricade and the others watched with varied amounts of interest and amusement as Miles exacted his revenge. Melvin would definitely think twice before doing that again.
Everything had devolved into chaos. Miles had gone with Earl and Val when they tried to take a couple of horses over the mountain, Val claiming that his sister would have been pissed if he had just left her son behind. In the process they had met the actual creature that the snake-like thing had come from, and had quickly discovered that the snake-like part was just one piece of the creature’s tongue. Miles had managed to take a couple of pictures of it so he could show everyone. Before they could make it back they had gotten stuck out on the rocks for a night with the scientist Rhonda. The scientist had figured out from her seismographs that there were three of those creatures.
Earl and Val were inside the general store with almost everyone, going over what they should do and how they could escape. Only the three kids were outside: Mindy on her pogo stick, Melvin playing basketball, and Miles working on the police car again in an effort to not think about anything more serious.
Melvin suddenly shrieked, but instead of becoming scared most of the people became angry, thinking he was playing some sort of prank again. Earl, Burt, Val, Walter, and Rhonda stormed out of the general store, Val and Burt already yelling angrily at Melvin. Miles had turned to see what was going on only to see Melvin clinging to the top of the basketball hoop with a long rip in his jeans that hadn’t been there before.
“Miles, get off the ground!” Val shouted instantly.
But Miles wasn’t listening. He could see one of those tongues probing at the bottom of the basketball hoop and he knew Melvin was in trouble. He was the closest to him.
Miles took a step forward, “Melvin, I’m going to distract it! Once it’s after me you need to climb off and go for Walter’s!”
“I can’t!” Melvin cried.
“MILES, DON’T YOU DARE!” Val yelled.
“You can,” Miles reassured Melvin. “You’re a fast runner.”
“Mi-”
“Now!”
And Miles was off, stomping his feet on the ground and hopping up and down as he ran. He knew the creature was coming for him because he could see where the ground puckered up around it as it moved underneath the topmost layer of soil. Melvin jumped off the basketball hoop and ran to the rickety old shed that was beside the general store, getting inside as quick as he could. As soon as he was safe Miles tried to find the nearest thing to climb on, but there was nothing in front of him but the fence that separated the general store from the house next door. It was wooden, so he grabbed the top of it and hauled himself up, balancing precariously on the boards.
“Stay there, Miles!” Val ordered.
Miles looked up to find that Val and Earl were now on top of Walter’s store, and just past them he could see Rhonda on the water tower. The store’s patio had been torn up and he could see blood speckled on one of the windows. There was more than one of the damned creatures in town already, if not all three.
“Where’s everyone else?!” Miles couldn’t see anyone but those three, and a sinking feeling in his gut told him that whoever’s blood that was had to be dead.
“Walter’s dead!” Val pointed across the street and a few houses down, “Mindy n’ Nancy are up on their roof! Earl’s tryin’ ta get ahold of Burt n’ Heather now! There’s at least two of them damn things here!”
“Graboids!” Earl popped his head up, scowling harder than ever. “That’s what Walter wanted to call them and that’s what they’ll be called, damn it!”
Just as Earl said that, the graboid near Miles shifted and the fence he was clinging to started to tilt dangerously. The second graboid began to prod at the shed Melvin was in, a terrified scream being heard from inside.
"Sonabitch, how smart are these damn things?" Val cussed, watching his nephew with frightened eyes.
The fence didn’t have a chance of holding up. Before it could fall apart completely, Miles made the decision to jump off and make a run for it. He sprinted for the police car he had spent so long working on, but the graboid was unnervingly fast and gaining on him.
“Stop.”
Miles stopped instantly, brain trying to comprehend why he was seeing a man in a police uniform sitting in the driver’s seat of that police car. It was the shock of seeing the man that made Miles listen to him. The man’s eyes lowered and Miles followed his gaze, seeing that one of the tongues was a mere foot away and searching blindly for him. He realized all at once that without him moving it couldn’t find him even though he was just standing still.
But the tongue was getting closer and closer to his right foot. It knew he had come to a stop right around there and it was determined to find him.
“Lift your foot, fleshling.”
Miles obeyed without question, mind ignoring the fleshling part entirely. Just as he lifted his foot, the tongue slithered to the spot where it had been. Miles let out a breath of relief and put his right foot back down when the tongue moved away, but despite how gentle he put it down the tongue came right back for it.
“These creatures are even more vibration sensitive than I thought,” the man in the car mused. Hold on, then.”
The man disappeared and the car began to fold apart and back together again, growing taller and taller. Miles couldn’t even comprehend what all was going on, but at the end of it a large metal bipedal being loomed over him. The face was pointy, the eyes were red, and the fingers ended in claws. Part of him was reminded of the beings in Sam’s and Mikaela’s story. Part of him considered screaming hysterically and never stopping.
And then the thing was reaching down towards him, and he had to decide whether he wanted to run from this creature as well. Somehow the decision was easy, because this thing had to be better than the damn graboids. So as the hand came nearer, Miles practically jumped up into it. He was quickly lifted high into the air.
“MILES!” His name was yelled by Val, Earl, and Rhonda.
“I’ve been working on him for the past week, so I really don’t think I’m in any danger here!” Miles shifted in the thing’s hand, making himself comfortable. And then he glanced up at those red eyes, “Or at least I hope.”
“I have a vested interest in you, fleshling.” The thing stared down at him, “I’m sure you already recognize me from the story your little friend Sam told you.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. And your name is?”
Val gaped at his nephew, “So not the time for pleasantries!”
Miles pointed to the ground, where the graboid had partially emerged and was trying to pull the metal thing under. It was failing completely even with all three tongues aiding it.
“I am Barricade, a scout of the Decepticon faction.”
Miles couldn’t tell what kind of emotion Barricade was feeling. The robotic undertone to his voice made it completely flat.
“And that’s Sam’s faction, too, right?” Miles asked hopefully.
“No. His faction is Autobot. The yellow Camaro you worked on is another scout, designated Bumblebee.” Barricade noted the expression on Miles’ face, “Relax. As I said, I have a vested interest in you. Your response to Sam the other day, while crude and said with little thought, rang true. As far as I know I am the only Decepticon remaining on Earth, and I have nothing to lose but my life by offering peace to the Autobots. Remaining an enemy to them will guarantee my death, but joining them could give me so much more. I have sent out a signal to the Autobot scout that stays with your friend to request his help.”
Miles slumped a little in relief, “Great. Now why don’t we grab Earl, Val, and the rest of them and then head to that jeep trail to wait?”
“I do not care if they live or die,” Barricade stated.
Miles gaped at Barricade. Then he looked over at the roof his uncle and Earl were stranded on, at Rhonda and then Melvin, and then over at Nancy and Mindy. He couldn’t stand knowing he was safe while they weren’t, especially not when he could still do something.
“You’ll be interested in them soon,” Miles said as he jumped off of Barricade’s hand.
Val started losing his mind all over again.
Bumblebee sped into the little town of Perfection with Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Ironhide hot on his trail. Sam was safely tucked inside his interior, squeezing Bumblebee’s steering wheel tight in worry. When they reached Barricade, Bumblebee and the others quickly transformed. Bumblebee never let Sam touch the ground, holding him firmly in one servo. All four Autobots stared at the sight of them.
Barricade stood there in all of his Decepticon glory, all four optics narrowed as he glared at them. In one servo were Rhonda and Heather and in the other was Melvin, Mindy, and Nancy. Earl and Burt were hanging on to his legs as high as possible, and Val was hanging onto one shoulder. Miles sat perched atop Barricade’s head, hanging on tightly. Down at Barricade’s feet were two graboids, half out of the earth and growling as they tried to get lunch.
Miles was the first one to speak, “I have a vested interest in this here Decepticon and I would appreciate it, if after you blast the fuck out of those things, you entertain his idea of peace.”
Optimus Prime was at a loss of words. Ironhide, meanwhile, happily blasted away.