3. Beginnings
Report position.
Approaching target, Barricade answered automatically, concealing his amusement at the sulky tone of the Seeker's signal. Since Megatron's return, Starscream's pride had taken a beating. Blackout's return signal was less considerate of the jet's feelings. Starscream closed the connection without responding, leaving the two of them… three, counting Frenzy… snickering. Blackout was the first to recover his businesslike attitude, as businesslike as Decepticons got when they were anticipating an easy victory full of screams.
The human military will be far behind us, he said. This city is doomed.
Barricade agreed. Earth's cities were advanced in comparison with most organic species, but he and his comrades had devastated Cybertronian towns twice this size. Even with the two of them, they would wreak havoc here, making their mark on this planet.
And the Autobots?
My sc-scanners will detect themthem long before they are a d-d-d-danger, Frenzy piped up. Besides, they're all b-b-building their head-d-quarters, expec-ecting us t-to head straight f-for the Allsp-spark.
As we should be, Blackout grumbled.
No, Barricade responded. We will weaken their human allies first. When the rest of the Seekers heed Megatron's call, they will be given the task of annihilating the human cities and you can hunt Autobots to your Spark's content. Until then, we will deal with the organics ourselves.
But it's too easy, Blackout complained. We could at least attack a city that's worth something.
This sector's capital is well-defended. Too much for the two of us, perhaps, but still easy prey for the Seekers.
St-St-Starscream gets all the fun, Frenzy griped.
We all take the tasks suited for us, Barricade answered. If the Seekers are only good for playing target practice with the squishies, let them. Blackout, what's your position?
Far ahead. Barricade activated his lights and sirens, speeding past the humans' drones in an effort to catch up. This altmode wasn't bad, as they went. He liked the look of it, the appealing contrast of black and white paint, the sleek frame and smooth armor. Even more he liked that human trusted him, though some harbored a strange dislike for their protectors. It would give him some form of twisted joy to see their shocked faces when he transformed and crushed or slashed the life out of them…
He revved his engine and drove faster, already relishing the imagined expressions of fear.
And yet… the slightest unease tainted his fantasy. But this was right, this was what he did…
Sensing his sudden malfunction, Frenzy linked to him and ran through all his systems, and by the time he backed out Barricade felt like himself again.
This glitch is distracting, he commed to his partner. Can't you just delete it?
Nono.
Barricade would have frowned, had he not been in his altmode. All glitches could be erased. Was this really a glitch, or could he actually be feeling hesitation? It wasn't in his programming.
Frenzy interrupted his musings. We c-can't afford the time needed to ch-ch-check your processor.
Barricade was relieved. Just a glitch, then. Something he must have picked up off a foreign signal, or the like.
Frenzy was also relieved. It would not do for Barricade to delve too deeply into his lingering doubts, not after all the work Soundwave had put into reprogramming and reformatting him. As long as he believed that the remnants of his original identity were just a glitch, they wouldn't have to worry that his Spark would break through his programming, even where that little silver Autobot was concerned. Still, they would have to do something about that one…
Screams shattered the still air, joining crumbling rock and sirens. The terrified teacher tried to shield her class from view behind a makeshift barricade. The irony was not lost on the looming Decepticon.
The tiny sparklings squealed and clicked, helpless with their tiny limbs and still-soft armor, and even now, amid the smoke and desolation, while energon pounded through his lines with the thrill of the hunt and excitement of the kill, he hesitated. They were harmless. They were unarmed. They weren't programmed fully… they couldn't even speak. Something inside nagged at him, some lingering doubt. Why do this?
Interrupting his self-debate, a winged form landed beside him.
"Problems, Barricade?" a familiar high voice teased. For a moment the racer was confused.
That's me, he realized. Barricade.
He glared at his superior officer and Starscream smirked right back. "Are the sparklings putting up a difficult fight? Is this battle too much for you?"
Barricade sneered at the Seeker. "Go slag yourself. Leave me to my own devices."
"You can't even do this right," the flier shot back.
"I see no reason to destroy sparklings."
"They'll all grow up to be good little Autobrats, that's why. You're a Decepticon now, Barricade, act like one." Barricade had just enough time to consider his words… Now? What does he mean, now?... before Starscream raised an arm and blasted an escaping sparkling. The tiny protoform had no armor to deflect the shot and it collapsed on the spot.
No more lingering doubts; that annoying sense of disquiet in his Spark could be ignored.
"You're a Decepticon, Barricade," the black mech growled at himself, watching the pale and trembling fleshlings. They really were like Cybertronian sparklings—incoherent, soft, fragile. He extended the spikes on his gyroflails. "Act like one."
There had once been a time when Jazz loved to hear sirens. He didn't like the reasons for the sirens, of course, but they reminded him of someone he knew. Whenever he heard them, his Spark warmed in his chest, because he knew that Prowl was on the job.
It wasn't always Prowl—there were other 'bots with sirens, notably Ratchet—but Jazz always thought of him anyway. Sirens meant that Prowl was protecting someone, protecting everyone. Sirens coming closer meant that Prowl was in a hurry to come to him. Sirens receding meant that Prowl was racing off to save, as the humans would say, a damsel in distress. Sirens meant that Prowl was on the job.
Prowl was everything he could have asked for in a bondmate. A bit on the serious side, but when Jazz could get him to loosen up… well. It was worth the struggle. He was reliable, intelligent, tough. Jazz could recharge in peace, and even if he was alone in the berth, he knew that Prowl was on the job.
But the thing that Jazz loved… what a wonderful human word!... the most about Prowl was his sense of right and wrong. Those infallible morals of his, the ones that made him a true Autobot, things running deeper than red sigils and blue optics. He would follow his morals to the last, no matter what. That steadfast devotion to everything good and right was what made Prowl Prowl, and Jazz loved it and loved him for it. Jazz still remembered the last time he'd felt that way, sirens fading into the distance, his Spark full of the knowledge that Prowl was on the job.
He'd never felt it since.
Not since seeing the flashing red and blue lights on the shoulders of a mockingly familiar black mech, and in the same glace seeing the bodies strewn about his feet: Autobot bodies. And worse, Sparkling bodies, tiny protoforms shattered and melted.
Not since a razor-sharp gyroflail had taken his chestplate and nearly his Spark.
Not since a horribly warped and twisted voice had laughed at his expression of shock and pain.
Not since being left shattered on the ground, barely online, and staring up at the cold sky, hearing sirens racing away at Megatron's call.
Not since Barricade was on the job.
Here on Earth was an echo of that same fateful encounter, but the bodies strewn about in Barricade's wake weren't Cybertronian.
"What happened to morals?" Jazz screamed after the retreating Decepticon.
He received no answer.
