Title: Our New Divide
Rating: T
Summary: Sam receives a solid B for his genealogy report which means no car for the 17 year old Witwicky. That's okay; he now has an F-22 perched on his lawn instead.
A.N.: Obviously I haven't found a new title yet. Might be slightly easier if I wasn't... OCD but... I've got a several more chapters to go right?
Barricade was a hard character to portray since I haven't seen anything except the movies concerning Bayformers and in Armada and G1, Barricade was pretty much your typical minor character that got shuffled off to the background. So I tried, with the whole SG theme but there's only so much you can do when the said transformer had little personality to speak of in the first place –palm face- As for Starscream, keep in mind that this is Bayformers crossover(?) and he wasn't as blatantly treacherous in the movies compared to his G1 counterpart... if at all actually -thinks-
Thanks for the reviews everyone, they make my day everyday—
reka1207 – I loved the movie...s (actually just the first one) but plot? What plot? Humans will feature in this fic, to what extent, I'm not quite sure yet.
Levannar – Yes, I did change them on purpose.
Eliza Acheron – 'Screamer is not a Screamer without his null rays :o so yes, he will have them in here.
-x-
Barricade's engines hummed appreciatively as his projector flickered to life. His fingers became bathed in holomatter, looking unblemished and clean to the naked optic. But as soon as he took it out of the projector's range, the cracks and stains returned to haunt him. Wistfully, he looked at the fingers that had once never known anything but datapads and cubes of energon. Behind him, Starscream spared one optic to glance at the cruiser who seemed to have taken to amusing himself by dipping his fingers in and out of clusters of photons.
"Interesting." The mech commented, his voice a high-pitched whine with a gritty texture. By the time he had gotten to the last syllable, his vocals seemed to have closed up as though several gears had gotten stuck in them from the lack of lubricants. It was as Bonecrusher had so sulkily put it once—he sounded like a glitched cybercat caught out in the rain. Sparks shot out from beneath his chin and the Seeker started, just barely managing to catch himself from tearing out Barricade's arm again.
The said physicist shut his projector off and stored it beneath his chassis for later use. The broken lights on his legs blinked uselessly, the bulb finally popping off with a sizzle. Making sure Frenzy was still glued to his hip and deep in recharge, he calmly turned his head to face the stubborn look on the Decepticon Air Commander's face.
"You know, after you're done reattaching my arm we're gonna have a look see at your vocal processor."
Starscream made an exasperated clicking sound. This wasn't the first time his vocal processor had been fragged and it probably wouldn't be the last. He knew critical damage when he saw it and this was by far from being fatal. It would be inconvenient in the mean time if he kept spitting out sparks before his comrades though.
"My vocal processor's fine." Starscream dismissed. His talons severed the frayed ends of the wire as he painstakingly began to connect them one by one. Barricade didn't look particularly convinced and looked dubiously at the mass of cords that had spilled out from the ruins of his left arm.
"Well excuse me for fearing for my life when some blue jet keeps sending me threats about how he wants a certain trinemate be returned in one piece or else." Barricade grumbled as the neural lines reassembled themselves. The shorter Decepticon let out a sound akin to gasping when the wires became taut. Starscream carefully guided the reattached arm back into its proper place. The cogs whirled as they accepted the arm back into its socket. The wheel on Barricade's wrist spun fast and the ends of his fingers began to twitch back into life. There was a fresh cut of pain as his shoulder plate was welded back into one whole.
"Thunder is an idiot." Starscream mumbled, ducking his head. He slapped his talon against the repaired shoulder, "There, done. You have two arms... again."
"You go up against the slagger and let's see how many limbs you keep."
Barricade clenched and unclenched his fist, the wheel on top of his left wrist spinning wildly.
"I did," Starscream said, dry as dust. "And you might remember that I came back with five."
"Oh yeah..." Barricade snickered at the memory. "Alright, c'mon, your turn."
The taller Decepticon started to protest, rearing up to his full height with a clawed hand at his throat.
"Look, it's either I look at it now or have Devastator sit on you later for it."
Starscream sputtered and Barricade gently scooped Frenzy up with a hand and laid him down on top of a nearby refrigerator. Backed into a scrap heap, the Seeker scowled and stamped his pede in a brief but intimidating display before yielding to the other mech's cursory scans. The cruiser ignored the heavy dents in the plates of armor—Starscream would have to take care of that himself—and bit his glossa as he tried in vain to look at the vocal processor located beneath the Seeker's jaw. Chuckling at the toxic look the other scientist shot him; Starscream bent his knees, taking care not to seem too submissive. He tossed his head back, stretching out his neck as much as possible as Barricade shone light between the torn cables.
"Now what in the pits were you doing out there?" The cruiser asked, optics focusing on the fractures around the taller mech's voice box. Starscream's wings trembled from the ghostly light touches to his neck.
"I've scanned an F-22 raptor from a nearby military base. It's... primitive but adequate." Barricade nodded, he had researched enough about the planet's defensory mechanisms to be familiar with the line of jets.
"I thought your mug looked uglier usual." He teased, moving his lights to get a better look at Starscream's triangular form. His optics flickered green as he examined the Seeker's newly acquired exoskeleton. The Air Commander's body looked almost awkward, his shoulders and sweeping wings wide but his stomach and hips narrow. His thighs tapered off in to slim pillars that no longer stood straight and instead bent acutely at the knees. The rest of his legs ended in solid ankles and pedes that separated into four sections much like toes. Barricade switched off his sensors, unable to derive anymore information from the scans. The radar indicated a radical morph in the Seeker's frame, outside the external changes but the Seeker's upper torso was too densely packed for him to further penetrate.
Starscream glared but agreed distastefully "Yes..."
"Is that wise?" Barricade asked sharply,
"It... won't impede my movements much. At any rate, I refuse to be grounded."
The cruiser coughed something that sounded distinctly like—'Seekers'
"And the injuries?"
Starscream shrugged nonchalantly,
"Aerial bots, just three. Skydive and Slingshot were absent."
"Just three, couldn't you have just shot at them with your null rays? At that height, the impact alone would have finished them off."
"I... thought about it. But it isn't as though I can simply let an Autobot crash into organic communities."
"We're in the middle of a war 'Screamer." Barricade reminded him firmly, putting a hand on the taller mech's shoulder. Starscream shot him a look, all good humor lost and the outer rims of his sky blue optics beginning to tarnish violet. The jet straightened himself, chest pushed out and arms slightly spread. The engine on his back surged to life, white-edged flames visible and the vents at his sides spitting out hot air. In an immediate reaction, the other mech raised his hands appeasingly and backed away.
"I am well aware of that officer." Starscream hissed, "But I did not take to the sky for the purpose of fighting the Autobots."
The Seeker did not like pulling rank, not to others—especially those who knew him well. Even when he had taken the title 'Air Commander' from his trinemate Skywarp, he had always differed to the older flyer. Everyone had wondered why the normally peaceable mech had done that, or why he had joined his brethren in the front lines at all. Everyone had their own opinions and the Chief Science Officer knew that sometimes even the jet's wingmates wondered why their reclusive third flew. But Barricade had been there in the beginning when they had picked up a seemingly innocuous stray from the ruined streets of Crystal City. He had been like a mech possessed, a mech with a desire to prove something. From the sidelines he had watched Starscream integrate himself into what remained of the proud Seekers and tear through the Decepticon ranks. A pacifist turned warrior, a scientist turned soldier, a Seeker turned killer. But truly, Starscream had never forgotten where he had originally came from.
—An Autobot turned Decepticon.
Barricade knew when he had pushed too far so he settled himself for a long wait against a red pickup with broken windows. Frenzy slept on unawares. No doubt that the cassette would have shot him reproachful glares before running off to soothe the Decepticon second-in-command had he been awake. The little mech had taken liking to the Seeker ever since he had taken him and his twin for a flight out in the Martian skies. In the distance a dog barked but otherwise it was quiet. The silence was broken half a cycle later when Starscream admitted quietly,
"I cannot reach the Nemesis."
"But you're a Seeker, you..."
"I'm a Seeker, not Soundwave." Starscream snapped, "My communications device is designed to send short transmissions for relaying orders."
"Thundercracker?"
Starscream instantly pressed his talons against the golden glass of his canopy.
"He's alright; I would have felt it..." He grimaced. "I believe we are being sabotaged."
"Not like we weren't expecting it."
"Not by Autobots," Starscream's optics flickered. "...By humans"
"They don't have the technology for that." Barricade stated flatly.
"Do we really know that? You are a scientist; you know such possibilities are endless."
"What makes you sure?" But already, the cruiser's processor began to analyze the situation. The relative lack of inquiry into his impact site, the sudden increase of patrols—not by police cars—but armored trucks insulated with lead so that he could not scan them properly, the habit of Autobots of making themselves scarce when too many humans were about—especially when they weren't the type to worry about committing potential genocide. The Autobots were hiding, not just from them. The humans—the ones that knew—were hiding as well. He could feel a processor ache coming on at the similarities between Earth and Cybertron during the beginnings of war.
"You said that they have Optimus Prime and yet the human population remains. They're keeping him contained..." He threw Barricade a sideways glance. "Somehow."
The cruiser pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge.
"They know we're here."
-x-
It was a good thing that the very next day was a Saturday. Sam honestly did not think that he could stay home and listen to his parents planning to renovate the lawn with the two thousand dollars that should have been his car.
"You'd think that they'd buy their only son a single rundown and beat up car if not out of sheer pity but no..." the teen complained to himself as he rode his bike down the road. Abusing his bell as much as possible, he raced through the grass, barely missing more than one pedestrian on his trek down to the mall. When he got there, he saw that it was still early enough for the parking lot to have awesome parking spaces near the main building. Slowing down lest he get struck by a van with a soccer mom at the wheels, he twiddled his thumbs against the handle bar as a shiny 2009 Camaro drove past. He barely managed to suppress a whistle. And as he passed an empty space beneath a generous shade, he inwardly groaned, imagining his dream car there.
Maybe that was the problem—he wasn't looking at where he was going. When he came too, he was on the asphalt, dazed, with people laughing uproariously around him. Trent—the bastard—was the culprit, waving his sneaker—there was a gum stuck on the bottom—in front of his face to tell him just how he had landed upside down with his bike pretending to be a pretzel.
"Trent you're such a jerk!"
At least someone agreed with him. Someone female, he wondered if he could...
"Aww c'mon babe, it's just a joke. Witicky's alright." The thuggish blonde's voice hardened slightly, "Right Wickity?"
"It's Witwicky." Sam corrected as he re-righted his world. Elbows skinned—check, knees skinned—check, possible brain damage—double check, wow he wondered if he could sue the other teen. He stumbled as he got up to the amusement of his audience. He bowed mockingly; no one would accuse him of not being a good sport, and wrestled his bike into standing. Something hit the ground with a dull clang. Shit—that sound inevitably meant that something was broken and that was exactly what he didn't need right at that moment. His jaws rigid, he cursed the fates for not giving him a car, giving him a crappy standing in high school and leaving his virginity intact for 17 terrible years. Amidst the jeers, he began to bodily drag his definitely broken bike from the entourage of classmates he had known way too long.
He really should have just gone over to Miles'.
-x-
He saw a brand-new yellow Camaro drive by and wondered if he could ever get a car like that.
"Hey! Umm wait up!"
Ladies man or not, Sam was not in the mood. If it was one of Trent's groupies he was about to tell her off.
Until he saw her that is,
He was a teenage boy; he was practically entitled to be capricious.
"Hi. Um... you forgot this."
She handed him the broken breaks for his bike.
"Oh um, thanks." He attempted a laugh as he turned it over in his hand. "Almost forgot about it..."
"Look," she said, tucking strands of loose hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry about Trent, he's..."
"It's fine... I'm sorta used to it."
He didn't mean for it to come out like that but didn't mind the guilty bite of her lips and look of pity set in her pale eyes.
"I'm Mikaela, Mikaela Banes."
"I'm Sam. Witwicky." He emphasized.
He squatted down, wondering where and how a break was supposed to fit. Not wanting to look like a complete idiot, he tried to stick one end against the jumble of bent aluminum around the bicycle chain. He got a hand smeared with grease for the effort.
"Here, um let me help."
"Uh sure"
Mikaela crouched beside him, perfectly manicured fingers wrapping around the broken breaks. As she worked he couldn't help his eyes from straying south.
"So are you new? Are you new to the school this year?"
"Um what?" Eyes jumping to her face which was luckily still turned away. "Oh no, we've been going to the same school since first grade."
"Ohh..." she nodded slowly, her brows creasing as she digested that bit of information. "Do we have any classes together?"
"Uhh History..." Sam replied, feeling his masculine pride shrink word after word, "social studies... language arts..."
"Oh I'm sorry, I just didn't recognize you."
"Umm that's okay, it's no big deal."
Indeed, not when one of the most popular girls in the entire school was going out of her way just to talk to him. He wondered if this was what it felt like to win a lottery, or a ticket to go out for dinner with someone famous.
"So uhh... isn't Trent going to wonder where you are?"
He then berated himself furiously as she got up with a small sigh, her tight t-shirt sliding back down her flat stomach.
"I don't care." She answered her eyes flashing defiantly. She withdrew a packet of tissues from her handbag, the kind people usually gave away for free at gas stations. She wiped her hands on them before belatedly offering him some. After thanking her he had to ask,
"Would you like me to walk you home... err from here to your house...?"
She looked surprised but pleased. Her slim eyebrows arched and she shifted her shoulder strap. For a moment, he thought she would say 'no' when she looked back towards the mall running her hand through her hair.
"... Sure"
They began to walk, Sam's bike between them. A yellow Camaro pulled up beside them, the one he could have sworn he had seen pass by twice in the past ten minutes. The tinted windows rolled down. The interior of the car was dark, the radio flicking from station to station. The driver was a blonde young man in his early 20s. His brown eyes flashed up at them oddly, a wooden smile frozen to his face.
"Do you two require any assistance?"
-x-
[1] In this fic, Seeker's are just another subspecies of naturally occurring Cybertronians. Kinda like how Pomeranians are different from Doberman but they can technically breed with each other... technically. Depending on who's topping. Now I'm just getting carried away.
And I find it hard to believe that robots (for the lack of a better word) have functioning genders so Femmes will also be another subspecies, one that specializes in reconnaissance and guerilla warfare if the feats of the G1 girls are anything to go by. I'm guessing they do have reproductive capabilities but were not created for the sole purpose of having children. Wait, do Femmes even exist in this fic...?
[2] I find it odd that Rachet can get away with demolishing a baseball stadium. Getting into the atmosphere is one thing but when they left physical impressions of their landing in public places? Wouldn't that be considered a threat to national security? Also, the timing of the Sector Seven bothers me. They probably knew that the transformers were coming and were ready to deal with them. But the hostile manner in which they dealt with Bumblebee suggests that they would have never accepted the Autobots as potential allies.