A/N: Okay, this CadexBee ficlet originally started out as a short contest entry over at tfic-contest on livejournal. Somehow it actually placed too, which I'm still in disbelief over. But this isn't the version I submitted. The original was only 5,164 words. Longer doesn't equate to better I know, but it would not leave me alone until I wrote more for it so here you go. If you've got anything to say, bad, good, or otherwise feel free. Movieverse, set between TF and TF:ROTF.
It was a rare night in the small city of Tranquility, Nevada. Or at least this was what every pertinent bit of meteorological data he could sort through, detailing the region's weather patterns for at least the last five Earth decades, led Bumblebee to believe before he tiredly broke his connection with the nearest internet servers yet again.
According to those online sources, the American territory known as Nevada was generally believed to receive the least annual rainfall of any state in the country. And from what the Autobot now understood of the relationships between the Earth's geography and its varying climates, the cause of this was the raised land mass of the Sierra Nevada mountain range on the state's western border.
The mountains acted as a blockade against the moist air which would have otherwise drifted eastward off the Pacific Ocean. And as a result, the atmospheric conditions favorable to rain very seldom formed on this side of the range. So where the probability of simple rain occurring was already low because of this, the odds of a full fledged storm were even poorer.
But regardless of all these facts, severe weather was exactly what Tranquility was enduring tonight as another loud rumble of thunder tore through the Earth's sky to send vibrations all the way down into the walls of the garage that the solitary Camaro was currently nestled within. Sam's father had moved his own vehicle out from under the structure earlier in the day, purportedly so that Bumblebee may take refuge from the rain and wind which had only worsened as the night wore on.
The young Autobot was not ungrateful for this consideration of course. But he was still certain that the humans didn't understand how little it did to console him. Bumblebee's concerns hadn't been rooted in the weather to begin with.
As uncommon as the growing storm may have been for this area, it was hardly dangerous to his well being. Even if he had noticed traces of many chemicals and a somewhat acidic pH within the precipitation that escaped down from the planet's dark cloud formations, no compound that could be detected was within even fractions of the levels which would have been required to corrode his surfaces.
And since he was not organic, there was also no risk of developing the compromised immune system and subsequent illnesses he believed afflicted all humans when exposed to cold, wet conditions similar to this. Even the slightest drop in core temperature seemed to put their organic bodies under significant risk. But it would take a far more drastic change in external temperature to force his own spark into stasis.
Really, by their suggesting that he only stay in here for the night, it was as if the Witwicky's were simply responding in the protective manner they habitually displayed for the other non-human resident of the family. The small structure that they'd constructed in the yard for Mojo was not called a garage, but the principle behind it struck Bumblebee as quite the same in this moment.
The canine was not recharging there tonight however. As usual Sam had brought Mojo up into his own room earlier on. Bumblebee would imagine that they were both still sharing the single bed as he'd sensed no other significant movement upstairs after the lights had last gone off hours ago.
Yes, Sam was likely in deep recharge by now, content in his belief that it was only the prospect of remaining outside for the night which had had Bumblebee somewhat on edge for most of the day. His friend would believe that the problem had been solved simply by allowing him to park within this somewhat cluttered storage area, removed from the rain.
Sam couldn't be held accountable for that incorrect assumption though, as Bumblebee had never made a point to clarify what his thoughts really were. He wasn't sure how to do so when it wasn't even only today that he had felt this much pent up, almost nervous energy within his spark.
The anxiety had persisted for an indefinite time. But only with the first rumbling premonitions of this rare weather, had the feeling grown pronounced enough to even become noticeable to his human companions. The dulled explosions of thunder high above in the Earth's atmosphere had started to tug at instincts ingrained in the Autobot since ages prior.
It was embarrassing really, how he couldn't simply ignore the continued thunder cracks for what they were, and kept only drifting back to what they reminded him of instead as he sat there alone in the dark. Bumblebee had been born into war, and as a youngling, such distant rumbles were some of the first sounds he ever remembered hearing. Each one possibly signaling an individual he was never going to see again, or one he'd never get the chance to meet at all.
Yet from the time that he was old enough to truly understand the world consumed in chaos just beyond the walls of the Autobot bunkers he had grown up within, he had never actually been afraid of those sounds. It made little sense to him to feel anything similar to that emotion now.
Perhaps it was only the reminder of violence which made him restless. He was so fond of life as it was now. This was the first peace that he had ever really known, even if the day where they may again have to defend the whole of this planet loomed ever present in all the Autobots' minds. They all knew that there were still powerful Decepticons out there. The full war could conceivably begin again. But to Bumblebee especially, the personal risk was perhaps even greater now. If their enemies truly targeted this world once more, he would now have things to lose that had never been at stake for him before.
Shamefully, the yellow mech could admit the almost selfish way in which he had come to attach himself to Sam and Mikaela, and this new lifestyle so foreign from his original one. Bumblebee was the youngest of all the Autobots, and though they would always be his family, he could not say that he'd ever had a true friendship among them.
Because those relationships within his own faction, deep as they were, were so much more like what a human would describe as parent to child, or elder siblings to a younger one. He hadn't ever had true peers or equals, or any place that had distinctly felt like his own. He had never felt accepted in anything close to the manner that he now did with the Witwicky family. He didn't feel quite so alone for now.
But it would have been difficult for him to explain any of this to the Autobots either, and so he'd never mentioned his feelings or the newfound sense of stress which accompanied them. Not to Ratchet, Ironhide, or even to Prime. Especially not to Optimus when he was sure that their leader already had too many of his own worries to be bothered with Bumblebee's less pressing concerns.
Perhaps if there'd been any real evidence to support his anxieties as more than just the side effects of protective attachment to his new friends and family, he would have confided in someone. But as it was now Bumblebee could prove nothing. He only lingered a little longer each day outside Sam and Mikaela's high school after dropping them off, or circled the streets of Tranquility more and more fervently each afternoon as if he should be searching for something beyond what he could see. And now, even his recharge cycle was becoming impossible as that wary sensation only grew while the sky thundered to remind him of battles and enemies that should have still been far too distant to matter.
For so long now, the Camaro had been trying his best to relax. But the restlessness expanded steadily out from his spark, even seeping within his frame as he started to shift idly on his tires within the small garage. He listened to the rain pelting against the door before it ran down to creep beneath it in the form of expanding puddles across the concrete as the wind pressed harder.
There was really nothing left to distract himself with. Even the internet grew tiresome after so long, and he knew it would still be quite a while before he would be needed to do anything else. It was Sunday night and Sam shouldn't need to leave for school until around 7:30 the next morning. Though sometimes they would leave even later than that whenever the human boy was not yet fully awake or had not finished his preparatory customs required to depart the house in time.
Of course Bumblebee never minded those days that they ran late though, as Sam would always goad him to drive with less regard for the restrictive speed limits then. The Autobot well understood the vulnerable nature of true human vehicles and the potential danger posed to their organic occupants if a car such as himself would ever wish to reach full speed on their congested roadways. But he could not help but grow weary of always holding himself back, mulling along at only a fraction of the speed he had used to enjoy.
As a Cybertronian, there were not many things he excelled at in comparison to others. He was small, certainly couldn't fly, teleport, or disguise himself with any perceptional illusions, and he wasn't even very strong. The only talent he felt that he honestly could claim for himself was his speed and agility. Surely there were still those who could outdo him in even that, like Blurr for one. But the skill remained something he did have slight pride within. Because it had always made him useful to his comrades, even when so many had first thought that he was too young to be of any help at all.
But now the thought that he had gone so long without even attempting or needing to put to use those innate abilities only furthered his uneasiness. Eventually Bumblebee could keep himself immobile no longer. The combination of his body's tension and his spark's discomfort were proving too great. He knew he would not be missed until morning, and thus let his engine come to life before sending out the signal which initiated the garage door to begin rattling up its track. Sam had once given him a remote which activated this process, but after scanning the technology, it was easy enough to interpret how it functioned and to mimic that specific signal himself whenever he wished to enter or exit.
As the garage door lifted, the rain immediately misted in across his rear bumper, then spreading water all the way to his roof before it began to run in cool streamlets down his sides. Bumblebee shifted himself into reverse, carefully minding the narrow breadth of the door as well as Judy Witwicky's flowerbeds just to the sides of it as he backed out into the storm.
He was sure that the sound of his warming engine would not disturb his human family in all the other chaos of the night, but did check on them once more out of habit before turning himself and putting his gears back into drive to begin rolling down the driveway. Noting nothing through his scanners that would have signaled a disturbance upstairs, Bumblebee only slowed to bump his front end gently against the large gate that led out onto the street.
Sam's father seemed persistent in always modifying the surroundings of the Witwicky home. Besides the conversion of what had previously been something known as a "carport" into what was now the closed garage, this electronic gate had also been one of the more recent additions.
Yet it seemed to malfunction more often than not, so the Camaro had grown accustomed to simply nudging it open whenever he wished to pass through. Though from how often Sam complained about this habit (after being scolded by his father for it), apparently the gate was built with the intention of only swinging one way. So Bumblebee's impatience with it, and resulting insistence on pushing from both directions instead as he came and went, may have had a great deal to do with why it ended up so commonly unresponsive in the first place.
But as long as it was still erect to serve as what Bumblebee supposed was only a symbolic separation between the public street and the private living area of the Witwicky's, he felt little guilt in opening and closing it in his own way as he then reversed briefly once he was through to bump the gate back into the position that it'd been in beforehand. By staying here day in and day out, Bumblebee was sure that he had provided far more usefulness and security than any piece of fence work ever could.
Once out onto the darkened street, the Autobot was only sure of the fact that he would be leaving the neighborhood. Besides this, it seemed any direction would be as good as any other when he had nowhere particular to go. He could never really become lost with so many methods of retargeting his position, but it was doubtful that he would even travel far enough to find any area that was truly unfamiliar to him either. He had ridden all over this state so many times. Though never had it been on a night like this.
Bumblebee let his headlights illuminate through the rain merely for appearance's sake, as his sight had little to do with the light or lack thereof. His tires pressed harder onto the slick pavement to maintain his traction as he gradually began to increase speed after turning out of Sam's subdivision onto the wider road.
Even as late as it was, and with the addition of the inclement weather, he was aware that some humans would always be driving through the area. At the first sign of another vehicle's headlights, he would be forced to engage his hologram in substitute for a driver. But as he saw no one yet, it was only his radio that he toyed with, trying to find anything that caught his interest through the static.
When nothing really seemed to, a whim had him leave his dial on a soft female voice, though the station must not have been local as it only kept fading in and out. While the shift between static and an intelligible Earth language may have grated on a human's patience, Bumblebee could easily find himself pretending that there were words within the electronic noise as well. He didn't bother to switch to his satellite radio or delve any further across the local broadcasts as he gradually let his imagination run with what was already playing.
In these new alt modes, their radios were an extension of their usual communications hardware. And as lightning ran sideways across the bottom of the clouds above him, Bumblebee couldn't help but idly remember Blaster once trying to show him how to decipher through the encryptions and similar static which had hidden the Decepticon frequencies back on Cybertron.
No matter how senseless the noise seemed, their communications expert could always find the words within it. Blaster had been able to differentiate between what was only interference brought on by a Decepticon's channels in range, and what was actual chatter between them. Sometimes he had even picked up coded messages from Megatron himself. There had always been much excitement in the Autobot base whenever verified Decepticon plans were intercepted.
Bumblebee could only ask himself if he was now craving a touch of that excitement, or if he was trying to hear Decepticons where there were none as he slid himself tightly around the next curve. He didn't have to be out here, with rain stinging across his grill and an overly charged atmosphere playing games with his own increasing flow of energy. But sitting alone back at the Witwicky residence, obsessing over something he couldn't even put a name to wasn't for him either.
Whether it was paranoia or the simple need to be active again that fueled him on, the Camaro only accelerated abruptly again as he came into another straightaway. He just knew that he had to go faster.
Bumblebee's engine noise became lost in the sounds of the storm as he revved the needle of his speedometer well past the numbers posted to the sides of the roads. His route brought him farther and farther from the inhabited areas as he darted along the roadways, daringly testing his ability to maintain control over the rain slicked surfaces.
Soon it was only gas stations on the perimeter of town that he was passing by in a blur, and then finally nothing at all as barren desert began to run flat on either side of the highway. The distant rock formations hung almost like jagged pieces of a foreign skyline, standing out more pronounced in the intermittent flashes of lightning. They were almost like ruins in the distance, complementing his already nagging thoughts of war.
By now his radio had gone entirely to static. Whatever channel he'd barely been picking up beforehand must have been miles behind him now. But Bumblebee only found himself listening even more intently to the low screeches and higher whines within that static as the noise almost seemed to intensify with the more attention that he paid it. His spark was beginning to pulse harder as well, perhaps egged on from the rough vibrations of his own engine, until he could actually feel the excess heat escaping from his undercarriage as it fanned out hotly across his tailpipes.
His systems were steadily climbing towards some vague culmination that he may have been seeking, but he still wasn't reaching anything near his top speed. He wasn't there yet, and it was clear that his body still had plenty more to give. The Camaro just kept feeling that he had to go faster, he had to relive what he was capable of, he had to feel that power, he needed to-
The radio went immediately silent, cut off with a violent abruptness that made Bumblebee's spark skip an entire pulse. His receivers had automatically transferred to an open communications line which had activated -without warning- almost right on top of him. Only one word burst across that channel with a level of familiar contempt that no one else would ever possess for him.
Mine.
Bumblebee braked as hard as he could have, dangerously sweeping himself around in a 180 degree turn that left him skidding and screeching half off the shoulder. His sensors flung forward as headlights flared to life from the darkness and the other car missed a collision with him by only inches.
Fishtailing briefly across the wet terrain, the Camaro forced his engine into a desperate bid to run wide open again, crushing his tires into the dirt as he put his taillights to the road. There was no strategic value in gaining distance now, save for his instinctive need to lead them both into the privacy of the barren desert. Even in an area already as isolated as this, the Autobot could not run the risk of encountering human interference. The other would never hesitate to use their lives as leverage against him.
The answering roar of the Mustang's power became detectable even over the thunder then as Barricade finally cast off all attempts at stealth, pursuing his chosen prey doggedly, and leaving Bumblebee to wonder how far he actually could lead the other before having no choice but to turn and defend himself from the inevitable.
To Bumblebee, this was now the apparent reasoning behind all he had felt in recent days. An answer too late to matter. He was certain that Barricade had to have returned to Tranquility weeks ago for this to be happening now. The hunter would have been watching and waiting, noting all their locations and habits before deducing his choice time to make himself known. He would have been so close all along, silently threatening everything that Bumblebee now cared for.
But even Barricade should not have been so reckless as to return and take this heavy risk without reason. The Autobots hadn't even been certain that he was still online after the last battle in the city. Optimus had told them that he'd offlined Bonecrusher and Barricade himself. Yet when the Autobots had finally gone back to help clear the wreckage, only Bonecrusher's body had remained.
Bumblebee still remembered the shattered pavement he'd seen much later. Only barely able to stand himself then, moving awkwardly on the temporary prosthetics Ratchet had grafted for him, as he tried to assist the others in providing some clue to where the Mustang had gone. The roadway was entirely broken in so many places. But specifically in one area, nearer an exit ramp, there had almost been a crater in the roadbed. One stained with a dried pool of energon and accompanied by noticeable scuffs of black paint across the sharp shards of concrete.
Somehow Barricade had gathered the energy to pull himself away. Either that, or he'd gained the very unlikely assistance of Starscream before the faux jet had disappeared out into the solar system. But however Barricade had escaped, Ratchet had been sure that the Mustang would have been in no condition to get very far from the descriptions Prime had given of their fight. But Bumblebee had never imagined the other mech just crawling off somewhere to die. He knew in his spark that Barricade would never go out so quietly as that.
But a return like this…so soon…was truly a surprise, even to him.
When the road was no longer in sight behind them, the yellow mech put his frame through another harsh spin, angling back towards his rival. Bumblebee knew that he'd have the breadth of a nano-klik to transform before the imminent impact.
But no matter how many times they had faced one another, no matter how routine it should have become by now, the overwhelming sense of danger and inexplicable anticipation that accompanied this never seemed to wane. The chase beforehand only had Bumblebee's energy arcing that much quicker through his circuits as his body readied itself. His internals were reacting too fast really, if there ever could be such a concept for either he or Barricade. Bumblebee might have wondered why he was focusing on such trivial sensations if there'd been a moment longer to wait.
With a metallic clash to rival the thunder, their bodies ended up tangled some distance away as the Decepticon immediately moved to pin him against the dirt. Bumblebee's door wings bent painfully under the force, tiny cracks shooting through even his reinforced mimicry of glass as large claws quickly bid to keep him down.
The last time that they had challenged one another, Bumblebee had been the clear victor. Barricade had underestimated his determination to protect Sam and Mikaela. But the humans weren't here now, and the Mustang seemed to leave no room for error this time.
With a vicious snarl that accompanied a rush of heat out from Barricade's grill, Bumblebee found his wrists suddenly jerked up above his head hard enough to leave his shoulder joints grating with the pressure as the limbs strained to stay within their sockets for what was not the first time.
But even for Barricade the rush seemed unusual. He was being so quick to apply his full strength, as if it really were all or none on the very first move. It might be wise to fight that way normally, but Bumblebee knew that Barricade rarely did. Not when the confrontation was between them at least. Their fights would be drawn out for as long as possible if ever the choice was left solely to the Decepticon.
The rain was already running down through the yellow mech's battle mask, blurring his sight as the water began to splatter over the lenses of his optics. It was hard for him to make out much more than the red glow of four familiar eyes and the sneering maw of fangs above him as he stared up towards the other, not fully understanding this deviation from their usual sequence.
They had faced each other so many times…on Cybertron, Earth, and many unnamed planets in between. Barricade had always tried to overpower him, always wanting to take control, always wishing to make him suffer. That harassment seemed to have evolved into some sort of genuine pastime for the other, a sport only for Barricade.
The notion that the Decepticon hunter purposefully sought Bumblebee out above all others, even ignoring his own orders from Megatron at times if it meant a quick encounter, would have seemed like a ridiculous idea at first. But the reality was far more difficult to ignore once Bumblebee had been on the receiving end of that attention for several millennia. Maybe others had failed to notice -or even ignored it completely for sake of their own comfort- but Bumblebee had long lost any doubt that he'd somehow evolved into an object which held a violent killer's utter fascination.
And as much as the Autobots had congratulated Bumblebee on so effectively escaping and outsmarting the black mech time and time again, he knew that Barricade had given him many, many chances to evade death over the years. The Autobot always had to work for that survival of course. He'd still leave injured and far from in one piece more often than not. But Barricade would let him live. If only for the chance to hunt him down and repeat the process all over again. Yes, there had always been a next time.
So Bumblebee didn't understand why this would be so different now. He couldn't understand even as warning sensors screamed and his body jerked instinctively, scraping against the other's metal as Barricade's jaws crushed abruptly down over his throat. The Decepticon's fangs snagged against fuel lines and even more crucial neural cables as the Autobot's optics flickered painfully with the signal disruption. There was no question what his fate would be if Barricade fully finished that bite.
Yet when they were then pressed so close, eventually stilled as they both awaited some unknown next action from the other, he could hear the Mustang's internals running loudly, unsteadily even over the noise of the storm. The pitch and hum of Barricade's fans and engine rose and dropped in erratic, distressed sounding cycles. Even after the chase, there'd be little excuse for the other to sound so overtaxed when they'd barely fought at all. Realization dully struck Bumblebee that something must still be very wrong with his enemy.
But for this specific Decepticon to hesitate in killing at all, it would have to mean that there was still something that he wanted. Though it was difficult for the Autobot to think too deeply about the other's motives the longer his throat remained clamped down onto like some sort of hard won prize, fuel and energy steadily failing to reach his processors adequately enough for him to remain fully aware.
But the longer they both waited, the worse it was going to become for him. He didn't want to offline, not like this. Eventually, the yellow mech had to speak even if the other wouldn't.
What do you want from me? Bumblebee managed over the same private channel that Barricade had opened earlier, characteristic boldness coming through despite his situation. It wasn't that he didn't fear death. No Autobot wanted to be defeated, and left only as a disfigured shell for their allies to recover. But the young spy had long ago been taught that those fears were natural and acceptable. It was the ability to move past those instincts that accounted for one's merit. He wouldn't cower under anyone. No matter what he knew they could, or would want to do to him.
The Mustang only gave a reverberating growl in response to this bravery however, bite pressure increasing even more as the vibration from his vocalizer sent a harsh buzz through the wiring of his captive's throat. The intense sensation brought on an involuntary shiver across Bumblebee's body. But that reaction was as natural as the fear. The only thing Bumblebee didn't understand was the trickle of shame that accompanied it.
Barricade didn't allow him much time to fixate on that though, fangs dragging even further within moments, and simply worsening the strange emotion. But it still wasn't entirely surprising that the Mustang would focus so heavily on his throat. They'd always made an effort to stay aware of each other's vulnerabilities. The weakest places in the armor, and the sensitivities left over from every battle they'd experienced before.
The Decepticon easily found those tell tale defects in Bumblebee. Most notably, the marks left from his near fatal encounter with Megatron ages prior, from the battle at Tyger Pax. The day that their homeworld had died, and somehow Bumblebee had ended up labeled a hero for it. A harder shudder wracked the Camaro's body as the tips of Barricade's teeth dug possessively into the scars his master had made.
You don't even know why you're out here do you, brat? Barricade scoffed gruffly at last, answering only with another reverberating question through their link. The response clarified nothing for the younger mech as he then felt the other's glossa moving idly out across the thickest fuel line he had trapped. The touch was almost disturbingly gentle for that moment as it slicked across, with Bumblebee somehow just having the capacity to notice how oddly dry Barricade's mouth felt, just before the jaws suddenly crushed down to sever the fuel line entirely.
Bumblebee's engine revved in an instant mixture of anger and panic as he then tried to kick his way free from his attacker regardless of the danger brought on by moving so violently. The actions were as reflexive as they were foolish. But instead of losing his entire throat again for his trouble, Barricade's claws only pierced deeper into the undersides of Bumblebee's wrists as he forced the spy down hard yet again.
Pain shot hotly through his sensors as warnings flooded his vision while energon began to run free from the broken pathway in his neck. For one incredible instant, Bumblebee found himself more hateful at the cheapness of the method itself rather than the fact Barricade had actually done it. He had always assumed that if he were to die at the other's hands, it would have somehow been in a more significant way than simply being left to bleed out all his fuel.
Yet when no more bites came to rip into more lines and surely finish him off, Bumblebee began to realize that the Mustang was only interested in just the one. He still hadn't let go of it. A slow, sickening shock twisted through the young mech's spark as it finally occurred to him that Barricade was swallowing the fuel as it escaped.
Barricade was drinking from him.
Primus… Bumblebee gasped into the link before he could stop himself, having no prior experience to weaken the overwhelming sense of violation that gripped him as the other's mouth moved slowly around the line, sucking his fuel greedily in.
Energon that escaped Barricade's jaws ran down to dilute in incandescent droplets with the rain. Bumblebee couldn't imagine what any of it might actually taste like. It couldn't be pure any longer now that it'd already been circulating throughout his systems. Especially after running his engine so hard to get here. The fuel would be overheated, and tainted with all the cast off from his other components. Cybertronians had many filters to continually clean what cycled through them, but still…this was-
Disgusting. The yellow mech blurted out with an odd amount of certainty as he felt the wet dirt pressing into the gaps of the plating of his back while he squirmed uselessly, unsure whether or not to press back and fight again while he was quickly losing all ability to view this situation objectively.
He'd never even heard of one Cybertronian drinking fuel directly from another's lines. Maybe in extreme cases Autobot had siphoned energon from one another's storage tanks, but that was still fuel that had never passed through the body. The concept of drinking what had already been within another mech had an extremely pervasive shock value. Even when Bumblebee knew that a Decepticon like Barricade would be capable of anything if their life depended on it.
Your fucking leader tore up my converter, brat...gasoline doesn't last as long as it used to.
Barricade's words crackled without warning through his mind, startling Bumblebee all over again, and greatly surprising him that the other would bother to offer explanation at all. Bumblebee tried to make eye contact with him, but he couldn't with his neck bent so harshly to the side. Even if survival was what this was all about then, being on the receiving end of it was still too much for the spy. The feeling was wrong on levels he couldn't even define.
And that emotion was only cemented as he suddenly felt the Mustang's glossa run around the circumference of the broken line again. It was as sickeningly wet as would be expected now, not the dryness of before that had hinted at Barricade's starvation. But the contact couldn't all be necessary. Bumblebee tried not to let himself focus too deeply into that. He knew he was being humiliated even as Barricade used him just to keep living. That was all this was.
The hunter could try to display his dominance all he wanted. If Bumblebee hadn't been distracted enough to become so easily caught, the Mustang wouldn't have lasted for much longer. Barricade would have only ended up dead if his condition was really as severe as it seemed. And it would all be because he'd been foolish enough to get in Optimus Prime's range on the way into Mission City all those months ago.
Yes, Barricade was the weak one to come to this. Not him. But even as Bumblebee tried to reason this to himself, he could hear the Mustang's engine rumbling ever louder, boastful even, to show that Barricade truly felt no shame at all in his pathetic actions. The deep sound wasn't so different from the hungry excitement the Autobot had often heard growling just off his tailpipes so many times beforehand.
All those chases…would this really be the last time? Bumblebee did his best to concentrate back to the very real fact that he was still steadily losing fluids he also needed to survive.
The stolen energon wasn't going to save Barricade for long, even if the 'con took all that Bumblebee had. If Barricade's ability to generate his own energon was really that badly compromised, then this theft would only give him a temporary boost at best. He'd burn it all off again and then what? Either he would shut down one system at a time out of starvation, or slowly poison himself just as painfully from trying to cycle the same degrading batch of energon over and over without adding any fresh amount.
Bumblebee wouldn't think that Barricade hadn't accounted for this. For everything that the other was, unintelligent wasn't one of them. But he could only wonder what the Mustang intended to do to save himself in the long run, or how many casualties that might entail for him to get what he wanted.
You know you'll be like this again within months… The Autobot tried to prompt him, courage again attempting to prevail through his vulnerability. It was true that Barricade still might kill him, if only if it was to keep him from telling anyone else of this encounter. The Decepticon still had to have a sense of pride. No matter how much he seemed to be enjoying himself at the moment…
The Mustang's engine only revved with a higher pitch that signaled his annoyance as Bumblebee again interrupted his feeding with more words. But Barricade had come prepared to negotiate in his own way.
And it'd also be a shame if in a few months those fleshlings of yours ended up in shredded pieces in front that little pen they keep you in…
Bumblebee immediately jerked as his engine revved hatefully against the other's body in reflex to that extreme threat. The fear the image inspired in him was all too apparent. But there wasn't much fight he could give as Barricade only closed his mouth down tighter in response, again suffocating the Autobot's mind by cutting off the pathways that fed it with the pressure. The hunter obviously wasn't going to let this end until he'd gotten his answer.
The young mech's spark was surging again though, body caught between needing to act out of fear and anger, but feeling the flares of self preservation that begged him to surrender before he shut down completely. By the time his optics started to black out again, he began to realize that he wouldn't be helping anyone by letting himself be offlined here. Despite everything, he had to force himself to relax back gradually, releasing the tension in his body willfully. Though he was experiencing the equivalent of being slowly strangled and bled to death, he had to show that he wasn't going to attempt any further attack or struggle. He had to drop all defense.
The rumble in Barricade's chest was gradually leveling out after all his indulgence in the Autobot's fuel, the sound one of deeper contentment now as Bumblebee almost thought he heard a dark chuckle through the other's vocalizer as he weakened beneath him.
Cruel as always though, Barricade still waited until Bumblebee was as far to the threshold of unconsciousness as could be taken before abruptly releasing some of the pressure to have the previously blocked flow surging back up to the Autobot's processors in a way that was equally distressing to the body.
It was like a blast of white, his optics blinded and equilibrium shattered as Bumblebee's spark fluttered with sympathetic nausea as most of his senses were left briefly over-energized and off kilter. He would have had great difficulty speaking then, but the Mustang saw fit to interrupt the silence for him after another moment, taunting in a way that assured he knew exactly what he was causing his prey to experience.
Interesting feeling…isn't it?
The hunter was infamous for his interrogation techniques, supposedly having been able to get whatever Megatron wanted from Autobots and Decepticons alike. They said Barricade knew how to torture, and all the ways to turn your own body against you. How to keep a mech alive while they only begged to die.
Bumblebee never really thought of it in length before, because he'd never intended to get truly caught. He assumed this was only the smallest taste of what could be, as he fought to think clearly with his mind still in disarray and his spark following suit.
Of course he understood the offer for a continued fuel supply that the Decepticon was proposing though, as sick as it was. If he didn't agree, Barricade was threatening to begin killing humans, starting with those closest to the Autobot of course. Bumblebee had to question if he wouldn't be above lying and pretending to agree with his enemy, only if it meant doing so to protect the lives of his friends. Did he have a choice at all when Barricade still had him by the throat, and the Witwicky's were sleeping defenseless only miles away?
No, he really didn't.
And I'm supposed to trust you? Came a caustic reply at last as the yellow mech strained to steady his tone.
He felt a shift in Barricade's mouth. But it was difficult to tell if it was the beginnings of a slanted smile. Bumblebee chose not to care. Though it was harder to ignore the rumble of another cruel laugh forming before Barricade answered him.
I haven't killed them yet, have I? In case you haven't noticed, Stripes…I don't give a fuck about your goddamn organics. The only use they have is when I need something from you.
Before Bumblebee could really think to retort though, he realized that his body -after a seeming eternity- was finally beginning to redirect the fuel flow in response to the break in the line. Despite all the distractions Barricade kept providing him, the steady stream was now starting to slow to more of a trickle over the Mustang's fangs. And though this should have been a positive thing, it left Bumblebee unsure of what would come next when Barricade was no longer being given the energy he undoubtedly came for.
But he was even greater surprised when the Decepticon only began to shift hesitantly back a few moments later when all he could get were a few drops at a time. Cautious optimism was difficult however when Bumblebee's system warnings were still telling him that Barricade had taken more than enough to leave his body weakened regardless. The effects weren't going to be so crippling to him when he was still pinned to the ground like this. But he didn't know if he would be able to stand, transform, run, or fight. He was effectively still very helpless, whether the Decepticon released him or not.
And surely Barricade knew it.
Bumblebee was in no position to argue, or try to be so noble now. He should say whatever he needed to say to keep this from escalating into something that might have the Witwicky's or himself dead by morning. But even knowing all that was at stake, it still seemed impossible to actually agree to anything like what the Mustang was asking of him.
What makes you think I'd ever bargain with a Decepticon for their lives, Barricade? He asked dangerously once the Mustang had finally released his throat, though admittedly only trying to delay a real answer as he attempted to think more quickly over his very short list of options.
The other sneered in a way that might almost have been as predictable as the Camaro's continued insistence on bravery. But with his mouth no longer occupied in feeding, Barricade was now free to respond aloud in that dark voice of his. The deep tone sent a waver through Bumblebee's chest with their proximity.
"You know…you never answered my question earlier, Autobot…"
Bumblebee didn't have time to consider what question it really was that he meant though, before Barricade had already dipped his head lower again, glossa now slowly collecting some of the stray energon that had started to congeal against the top edge of the yellow mech's chest.
The Decepticon growled against the wet metal, asking again. "What were you looking for?"
Barricade didn't miss the shudder that ran through the younger 'bot in response to that attention either. Smirking, the 'con just shifted himself tighter against him. "…And you didn't even call the other Autobots when you found me." Both mechs had to have known that the Autobots would have rushed to assist their precious sparkling at a moment's notice. Their continued absence made it all too obvious that no distress signal had ever gone out. "Do you know why you didn't want them here?"
Still not giving the spy any real time to fumble for an answer though, the Mustang just lowered his face even closer to the Autobot's own in a way that made Bumblebee think he was about to be bitten all over again. But Barricade's mouth only lingered against one of the yellow mech's audio receptors, nipping it sharply before threatening lowly against it. "Don't tell me what you'll do and what you won't do, you little piece of scrap, when you don't even know yourself."
Bumblebee was left staring with an unclear expression as Barricade abruptly let go of him to stand up again. The rain had quieted to more of a drizzle now as it ran down all the sharp angles of the killer's dark frame. Red optics met the widened blue of the other's as he glared down at the speechless youngling. Barricade scowled, berating him even. "So be useless and get slower if you want. Sit every night in that cage they made for you. It'll only make my job even easier when the war starts again."
The Decepticon stepped back at that, seamlessly returning to his sleek vehicular mode as he finished his statement over transmission in a different tone. Or do what you really want…either way we'll be seeing each other again. Soon.
Bumblebee's usually light form felt heavy and sluggish as he tried to sit up then, watching as the Mustang's tires spun briefly against the dirt before Barricade tore off back towards the road. He knew that he should chase after him, transform and pursue the Decepticon like he would any other threat to this city and his friends who lived within it. But somehow, he just didn't feel like moving now. Somehow he knew that Barricade was done hunting…at least for tonight.
The young mech touched at his damaged throat idly, engine letting out a frustrated sound as he gradually began to lie back down against the moist dirt, cracked door wings and all. His plating was scuffed and dirtied, while his wrists still stung where the Decepticon's claws had crushed around them. But all that pain remained minor in comparison to the emotions. He somehow felt sick, and confused above all.
He could already envision the stories he might be forced into telling by morning. About misjudging his grip on the wet roads, and just sliding off to wreck himself as he'd tried to achieve a rush that he'd thought was only something innocent. Bumblebee had needed to get out, needed to run. Some part of him had known Barricade was close…maybe even known that he'd be here. But it wasn't as if he'd asked for something like this to happen. It wasn't his fault…
Barricade was just a Primus damned liar. And he was going to love it if Bumblebee ended up lying for him because of this. But was it worse to lie to yourself? Wait, lie about what?
Frustrated, and upsetting himself further, Bumblebee just tried to start wiping off the rest of the thick energon that had managed to run down and stick against his metal despite the rain. He didn't want to see it. He didn't want the evidence or the reminder. It just needed to all be gone.
It would be so like a Decepticon to boast about things that they knew nothing about though. He shouldn't care about whatever it was that Barricade thought he'd figured out about him. Maybe Bumblebee had felt some misplaced pity for the other, maybe he had wanted to prove himself again and outrun his enemy, maybe-
He was surprised by how much heat his internals were still giving off as his fingers slipped in between the wet plating to wipe away more of the stray fuel. But his body's stress should be understandable after all that had just occurred. He was stressed. He had been for weeks now. And now it was a thousand times worse.
Bumblebee let his fingertips sink deeper, then making his armor begin to move back in order to allow his hand more room as he tried to smear the energon away with the help of the still drizzling rain.
His spark still hurt badly as well. Even after knowing what it was that he'd supposedly been anxious over all this time. Barricade's presence wasn't a secret anymore, but there was no relief for Bumblebee, knowing the decisions he'd have to make now because of it. He would protect Sam, Mikaela, and the others at all costs. But would he let Barricade stay alive, and continue to threaten them from a distance even while they weren't at war? Could that really work?
If he told the other Autobots…
Bumblebee's hand slipped further down, continuing to shift parts out the way as necessary. He could feel the energon sliding just past his fingertips, tauntingly oozing deeper to where he didn't want it. It needed to be erased.
The Autobots would kill Barricade if they knew. Not because they would fully desire to, but because the Decepticon would leave them no other choice. He would never back down. He'd never surrender to whatever terms of amnesty Optimus would want of him.
Barricade would want his freedoms, freedom to run above all. He wouldn't agree to being restricted only to a certain area until he earned more of their trust. He wouldn't want their trust.
The plating of Bumblebee's chest parted open wider, giving the rainwater more access as it dripped down over the heated components and his fingers pressed more roughly, rubbing against the stains.
No, Barricade wouldn't be caged. He'd die before he'd let them take anything away from him. Even if Megatron was gone now…Barricade's ultimate loyalty was to himself. He wouldn't give in, even if he'd wanted to…
But of course Barricade wouldn't want to.
Neither would Bumblebee.
His engine cycled irregularly as his fingers caught on one of the cables that fed it. He gripped down, pulling the line out of the way, and inadvertently bringing an almost painful rev through his already straining systems. His engine wasn't connected to the rest of his drivetrain while he was in bipedal mode, so it could only run loudly with no outlet, screaming with power for nothing, trapped and only hurting him further.
But Barricade would never become trapped and live to suffer it. He wouldn't do that…he shouldn't.
The yellow mech's optics were dimmed, but still focused on the flashing sky, not watching the light glow that began to grow from his chest as his fingertips first scraped across the grooves of his spark chamber.
Bumblebee didn't want to disappoint the Autobots. He was always so afraid of that. He had so much to live for already. He couldn't understand how there could be anything else he could want. There wasn't supposed to be.
His spark was fluctuating so very hard now, worrying him more as he decided to let his chamber begin to open in an attempt to give the energy more room to expand without damaging itself. He was going to hurt himself if he didn't calm down soon.
But what if they thought he was a traitor for letting Barricade get away with this? He would never be able to handle an accusation like that...he could never hurt his friends. He'd do anything for them…
The spark was so swollen and bright when he finally saw it, like he was sure he'd never seen it before as he glanced down hesitantly, startled at the sight. Bumblebee could feel the intense heat permeating out, as if it was going to burn itself up entirely. It was becoming so painful. He couldn't make himself relax to stop it.
He never should have come here. He'd only made everything worse. His spark had had so much tension even before he'd left tonight. But how could he have known any better? And now he was worried over so much more.
Inexplicably, Bumblebee chanced enough to let his hand move out, running it tentatively against the energy's flickering edges, as if that would somehow help to sooth away the pain. His other hand was finding purchase in the earth beside him, like he needed to remember that the ground was there at all as droplets of rainwater also started making their way into his now exposed core, the cold liquid stinging against his essence.
A pathetic sound escaped Bumblebee's damaged vocalizer as his back arched slightly away from the dirt. His engine was becoming so very loud now, responding in tandem to the dangerous tension overtaking his spark. It felt like his internals were going to pull right out of his chest soon, twisting with all that torque, engine revving again and again to rattle vibrations throughout his entire frame.
He'd never felt something like this, never done this. But it was too late to keep it from progressing, even as he pulled his hand back away in anxiety of what was occurring. His optics shuttered offline, mind trying futilely to escape from that intensity but only managing to plunge deeper into it as his imagination ran further on.
Barricade didn't know anything about him. Just because Bumblebee had been raised to be a weapon in their war, it didn't mean that that was all he was good for, or all that he desired. It wasn't all that he wanted. It wasn't always about speed, or being better, or needing more.
He was happy here. He didn't need Barricade's threats to remind him of how valuable it all was to him. He didn't need-
A shudder tore through the spy as he angled his chest up further to meet what wasn't there with another stifled sound. He could feel his spark energy attempting to branch off, trying to reach out into the air. His heels scraped out across the soft ground as his legs tensed and relaxed intermittently with the hard currents of heat and energy now spreading out all the way to his extremities.
Of course it only took his own engine's almost violent vibrations to finish him off, forcing Bumblebee over that frightening edge for the very first time. The full force tore through him as his spark released all it had held inside with one overwhelming surge throughout his systems.
His youth showcased itself in the way his body trembled in the heated moments afterward, fighting the urge to curl in on himself. But he didn't feel the burning shame to the degree that he would have expected. It was there, yet so easily dwarfed by the sense of release that came as a complete surprise.
But that physical relief wasn't accompanied by any clear revelation either unfortunately. The young mech still found himself just as troubled as before, but for newer reasons even as he tried not to think too deeply about it all, only wanting to slip into recharge after such an unfamiliar exertion.
He couldn't fight it. With so much of his fuel already gone, and his spark having fully released itself for the very first time, he slipped into unconsciousness frighteningly quickly. Pride was no longer a factor then as Bumblebee's body curled up reflexively in the rain.
To be continued.