The lesser evil
Chapter 10
Something about.
The road was flat and the starry sky immense as Interstate 80 passed swiftly under his tires. Only 130 miles until Omaha or so the reflective green signs along the road proclaimed. The conditions were perfect for driving, hot, dry and late at night so there were less humans out to interfere.
Trucks though, littered the road. Some forming great convoys that he rocketed passed. Others just cruising along, he wove around with out much effort. At first it had been a pleasure to get back out on the open highway. To feel the sun baked asphalt under his tires and the wind whipping pasted his damaged, yet still sleek form. The Rocky Mountains had some of the best driving to be had on this planet. Leaning in on the hairpin turns, feeling his frame shift ever so slightly with it, knocking off what felt like eons worth of dust and crud as he broke in the new back struts properly. Hearing his engine reverberated back at him when he rocketed through a tunnel. Scoffing as the fleshlings, males mostly, would try to pass him and he would let them get right up to his rear bumper before accelerating away.
It felt good.
Or it had.
Now a few weeks later, it was boring.
Vector Nebraska should be blown up just to give its drivers a challenge. Swerve to dodge a crater, zigzag to miss the flaming debris. It would defiantly make this drive more entertaining.
But the mountains had merged into the featureless great planes, which were indeed great and plain. Going around a Peterbilt hauling logs, the Mustang fired up his forward facing scanners to find the next rest stop. His energon was at 40% and that was the lowest he wanted to let it fall.
Just in case.
He wasn't paranoid or anything.
Really.
Just cautious.
If his extended trip had taught him anything, it was to be prepared for everything.
That and Blackout was the largest aft in the Decepticon forces. If the rotor tiller wanted him to meet him somewhere, he should pick someplace not crawling with military personnel.
Sure they were crawling all over the over sized glitch as he faked an engine failure stranding the 20 odd marines at the abandoned air field in Vector Virginia.
Sending him a transmission that was mostly laughter as the fleshys scrambled to get the glitch hound running properly.
Grindor as he called himself now had "allied" with the flyers that didn't even notice that the records stated that Grindor had perished in the battle for Athelex eons ago.
Frag that.
Blackout was Blackout and was still the malicious, devious, conniving back stabber that the Mustang knew well.
So while the skid plate had his fun hiding as a Marine chopper, figuring out what to do about the Seekers, he got to do a tour of this Primus forsaken, miserable excuse of a planet.
Sweet lord of unmaking, if he made it back to the east coast again and Blackout still hasn't come up with something. He was going to blow something up.
Preferably the chopper in question.
He was in some serious explosion withdrawals as it was and the fragger was such a deserving target.
The blue rest stop sign whipped past and he slowed to a speed that was not triple digits. Barricade followed a slow moving Freightliner in and tailed it to the truck lot, staying as far from the travel center as he could. A swift scanner sweep located a bent lamp pole that still had power going to it. He pulled around to the darkened space and hacked and snacked on the supplied electricity.
Nowhere near as good as energon, but it'll do in a pinch.
Settling in for a quick recharge as he gleaned the needed fuel from the available resources Barricade let himself relax a little.
Blackout was halfway across the country stirring up trouble in his subtle, yet surprisingly effective way.
The Auto snots were holding up, not wanting to make too much of a stir hunting him down, when the new arrivals were keeping them more then preoccupied.
And the Decepticons were out there plotting heinous schemes that he would, sadly, have no part of.
He really missed killing things, sure he ran over a few inhabitants of the desert but armadillos were hardly a challenge.
He could feel himself slip in to a recharging state. The various ways to make the travel center vanish in a cloud of smoke and a booming explosion that took a large chopper with it, lulling him deeper into recharge.
His auto scan program registered a vehicle pull off the interstate and circle around to the lighted travel centers human restrooms. But the Mustang was in to deep to care about the small but persistent flashing light that jumped onto his HUD accompanied with an even more persistent beep as the vehicle pulled in to scanner range.
An old blue Kensworth cab-over pulled in and not finding any open spots, parked roadside next to a black car that seemed to be part of the darkness under a bent lamp. The sudden hiss of the air brakes taking hold shook the Mustang and Barricade came out of his recharging state long enough to notice the beeping warning. And just who it was that had pulled up to the travel center.
Rule 1 of what to do when the slag hits the fan.
Don't panic. - They might not have noticed you yet.
If the situation calls for you to jump up out of the darkness cannons blazing then that's one thing. But it's quite effective just to wait quietly for a good shot and down him in one go.
Less likely to get him slagged in the process as well.
Alas, this is a concept that most other Decepticons failed to grasp.
Besides, it seemed like the Insect was more preoccupied with the two bumbling humans that had stumbled out of restrooms and were now trying to convince a vending machine to take their currency.
The meet stick, Ladiesman217, had a restraining device around his arm and it appeared to be hindering his ability to operate his fingers. The femme glided over and snatched the currency from his disabled hand, feeding the machine and making a show of letting her mate make the selection.
Slowly Barricade disengaged from the light pole.
It was so… disgusting.
The way the femme joked and teased and Ladiesman217 scoffed and acted more hurt then he was. All to get the femme to lean in and show affection. How the Bug revved his engine to get the pair to cease and let them crawl in to his seating compartment.
If it was possible for him to gag, he would of.
Friends are just waiting for the right moment to kill you in your recharge.
Enemies are at least a little more forward in their ambitions.
As the yellow and black Camaro pulled away without so much as a sensor sweep the Mustang felt slighted.
He was right here.
Itching for a source of entertainment and the frag-o-matic totally ignored him.
There was no way for him to not register on a basic sensor field.
Yet that pit scored aft hat ignored him!
He had been fragging woken up just to get past by.
His rear tires kicked up a rooster tail of dry dirt as he pealed out after the Auto snot's fleshling keeper.
The flat road that had so board him, now paying him a favor as he accelerated swiftly in the pre dawn. Easily coming in to short sensor range in a few moments and almost grinning as the Bug sped up to get away.
Ignore this.
He pushed his acceleration to the max, chasing the Insect through the thin, but steady traffic. Weaving though a set of semi's and dodging a mini van with a mattress strapped to the top of it.
Then the road opened up long and flat with no tail lights other than his preys in front of him. Gaining on the Camaro foot by foot until the yellow bumper was mere inches away. The bug switched lanes and he mirrored, drafting the slightly larger mech at almost 300 mph.
They hit a pocket of traffic, a couple of Semi's with car's scattered through out. The Maggot wove around the vehicles, rocketing through the minor congestion with him less then a foot away from his tail the entire time.
It was fun.
Well more fun then driving this stretch of road on his own.
And while it was not much of a challenge, it was still the most skillful driving he'd had to perform since the last time he had hunted down the meat stick.
Now if he could just make the semi's explode he'd be having a good day.
The Yellow one cut on to an exit ramp and he skidded broadside for a few clicks to make the turn. Roaring down the exit ramp and drifting through the stop sign at the end of it. The red tail lights his only focus as fields full of tall green stalks he didn't care about enough to learn its name, whipped past him as the road let him inch closer.
Massive sprinkler systems set on movable trestles arched over the fields of green and the Insect ducked onto a service entrance that dead ended at a fence line of barbed wire. The Mustang heard the screech as the Camaro barreled through the fence, pulling the two fence posts out of the ground before the wire broke and recoiled back. Lashing at Barricades head lights and scratching his doors as he followed the gnat off road. Tires bounced in the ruts and produce slapped him in the windshield as the sun rose over the lush green fields.
The Camaro raced under a spraying sprinkler system, tires loosing grip on the saturated soil and knocked the corn down in a near perfect circle as he spun around. Taking off at a different heading once he recovered his control. Barricade made his own crop circle as he strategically hit the wet dirt and barreled on after his prey.
His spark thrummed in his chest and his servos ached as they were shook fiercely by the very rough terrain.
He felt alive.
His engine roared and his frame vibrated oh so wonderfully in the heat of the pursuit.
Primus he had missed this.
Almost as mush as he missed what would happen when he caught him.
And he would catch him.
Oh yes.
He flexed his sheathed talons and growled in anticipation.
A copse of trees hugged the rivers bank providing protection from erosion as the rivers contents were pumped through the sprinkler system, lowering the rivers water level. He could see the pathetically made bridge that attempted to connect the fields on each side of the river. It looked like a bunch of trees had been cut to size and cemented into the banks of the depleted waterway, and it looked like it hadn't been assembly recently.
Barricade slowed his speed minutely as the Insect careened into the ruts leading to the questionable bridge. Veering though the trees and transforming before he hit the knee deep water, he fired a single shot.
Blowing the bridge to smithereens out from under the Camaro and the Insect's momentum flipped him as forward suddenly became up.
Score!
The yellow one landed hard on his side and in the few clicks it took Barricade to reach him, he'd deposited his human cargo and transformed.
Barricade grabbed his now damaged arm at the sparking relay and slammed his weapon into the Bug's chest. Knocking his back into the river bank, pinning him.
Game, set and match.
Not there had been any doubt.
This was his purpose after all.
The Mustang could feel the gnats accelerated spark pulse vibrating through the barrel of his weapon and could feel his own pounding in his audio's against the torrent of air his cooling unit was pumping in to dissipate some of his heat.
Kill him.
Be done with it.
He stood there, in the knee deep water. One hand grasping his prey's arm and the other in plasma gun form, out and heated. The Yellow fraggers other hand was around the barrel, attempting to push it way.
Three weeks of open roads and silent comm. channels. Three weeks of nothing but boring driving though this pit damned organic planet. Primus knows how many orns of waiting with only 2 bit processor speed mechs to banter with.
All of whom would slit his throat if the opportunity arose.
Some of whom instigating said opportunity.
He pulled his gun away, transforming it back in to his hand and wrapped his claws around his nemeses throat.
This was better, killing mechs personally.
Ripping sparks out of casings and what not.
Barricade flexed his claws, nicking a line and sending bright blue energon dribbling down the yellow front.
It was glorious, the smell of ozone being formed from the exposed fuel and the look in the Bugs optics as he squeezed.
But he couldn't make a fist, ripping the lines out with on good pull.
Something was stopping him.
Something about the silence of the road, going nowhere, doing nothing.
Something about how he hated it worse then he hated this fragging warped cortex of a mech.
Something in his processor telling him that killing the only mech that didn't want to kill him in return wasn't a good idea.
With a fierce growl he lifted the struggling yellow mech and threw him. Sending him splashing into the shallow water, Barricade turned and jumped the scorched embankment.
"We're even, Buzz aft, next time I'll kill you."
Barricade stalked away, stomping through the corn rows slicing through the vegetation with his talons in angry swipes.
There was a strange new process going on in his cortex, this not killing his enemy thing was disgusting and he fire walled the firewall he placed around not only the corrupted file but the memory bank as well.
"Wait."
The voice was hoarse and he ignored it. Same way he ignored the bot that came charging after him.
It could have been planted by the fragging Autobots, some sort of happy fun time love everybody virus meant to destroy his processor, or turn him into a fragging Autobot.
He shuttered.
No, never, he would rip out his own servos first.
And eat them.
The Insect grabbed his shoulder mount and he spun around. Slicing the Yellow's front, energon gushing from the diagonal rips.
That was more like it.
But that was it; no follow through blow to the head, no ripping things off the chassis.
Nothing.
His red optics glaring at the blue ones before him, blaming him for this.
Why didn't he kill him?
His claws flexed, but stayed at his side and Buzz aft cocked his head at him. Pathetic questioning look in those disgracefully large blur optics, then swung. Barricade ducked and rolled swiping as the Bug swung again. Each landing their hit and he outright tackled the slightly larger mech.
The sun was out now it glinted off the glass in the combatants door wings. In the distance he noted the 2 flesh bags standing near the tree line, but his attention was more centered on the yellow mech that just punched and shattered one of his headlights.
He returned the favor, with interest. Clawing his adversary's headlights out and swiping at the face guard. Leaving great gashes that dripped, but not enough to be a fatal wound.
He was thrown to the ground, caught himself and gut checked Bug before having his knee joint snapped back with a painful crunch.
He wobbled as his other leg compensated and was setting up to remove Bugs arm when the 2 humans shouted.
"Bee! The farmer's coming over!"
"We gota get moving Bee, he looks pissed!"
Turning on his heel Bee transformed, shot over to his pets and let them climb in. A disgusted shutter worked its way up his spine as an old pick up came rocking towards them from the other side of the tree line.
The crack of a rifle being shot and the zip as it whizzed passed his head and his hand turned back into his plasma rifle.
He was going to kill something today by Primus.
And this fleashling just volunteered.
The Insect veered toward him, clipping his damaged leg and sending the plasma shot wide.
With a roar of disgust he transformed and shot after the meddling Autobot. A few more rifle rounds sounding off behind him until they hit a dirt road, where Bee turned left and to what his scanners told him, was the closest town.
He paused, to the right was the freeway, where any self respecting Decepticon in this situation should be heading.
Back to the open road and the boring nothing that was out there, with only the word of a blender bot that it would change any time in the foreseeable future.
The Camaro had stopped on the dirt road a ways up; the 2 fleshys had their faces turned to him and was watching him with their beady organic eyes. With a snort Barricade turned left and passed the glitching Auto-snot. Covering him with dust and loose gravel from the rooster tail he'd kicked up.
Picking up the Gnats ping on sensor as the Camaro followed him.