Chapter X

The Art of Fabrication

By: The Feesh

The attack had come when Barricade had least expected it. A shot to the rear bumper had sufficiently jarred him out of recharge with all the force of Christ Himself punching him in the arse and the Saleen leapt into robot mode without a second thought, twisting about to engage whoever, or whatever, was shooting at him.

It was also a good thing that millions-of-years-old shock troopers were hard to kill, otherwise Barricade might have been pushing up daisies before he could even turn around.

Bumblebee's solar cannon was nothing to joke around about. It singed his armor and caused it to crack within two pulls of the scout's well-aimed trigger, forcing the heavier Decepticon soldier into evasive motion. Both gyroflails came into play; sharp, glinting shards of rapidly rotating knives steadied on the end of long chains sang through the air amidst a chorus of gunfire. Out in the middle of nowhere, New York, Bumblebee had chosen the right place and the right time to strike.

The skeleton of a half-finished building lay in rubble when the gunfire and weapons were ceased and holstered, being at the wrong end of the fighter's tussle that followed. Barricade was superior in hand-to-hand and always would be, and if it wasn't for the Camaros incessant resourcefulness the Saleen would have pinned him and taken him out of commission right then and there. After a wild roll and a struggle for physical domination, Barricade forced the yellow Autobot onto his back, raising a fist in preparation for beating the snot out of the little brat. Unfortunately, destroyed construction zones offered much in the way of very hard bludgeoning weapons. It had come as a painful shock when the handful of concrete block slammed into the side of his head, causing the Mustang's computers to stop in stunned surprise as he reeled unsteadily onto his feet and staggered away.

Swiftly, the scout rolled to his feet and charged his cannon once more, but chose not to fire. New Order suddenly came through Bumblebee's speakers, "Hey now what you doing
Don't go down the road to ruin
Look back at where you came from
Count to ten before you go wrong."

Barricade growled and shook his helm. "You attacked me, Autobrat, not the other way around. Suffer the consequences!"

"Stop right now, thank you very much," chirped the Spice Girls on loudspeaker, finishing up his thought with Institute, "we need to talk about it."

"You assault me as a conversation opener," growled the Saleen dangerously, internals rattling. "Intelligent. Turn off your slagging radio and speak to me, underling."

"What are you doing with the human, Barricade?" blurted Bumblebee hotly.

"What human?"

The Camaro gave a tinny growl. "Michael James Romano, the mechanic. You know exactly who I'm talking about, so don't waste your processed air on being coy."

"He's a mechanic," Barricade snarled in return, hunching his shoulders and taking a threatening step forward. "He did what fleshling car mechanics do and here I am. Step off, bug."

Bumblebee's bright blue optics narrowed and his battle mask slid over his face. The Ford was toying with him, baiting him, and lying to him. There was no way Barricade would allow a human to work on him, he didn't possess the ability to trust that much. As far as the Autobot's knowledge of his friend-turned-enemy, he'd sooner rust than trust anyone but his own hands with his health. Knowing that the police interceptor was a recognized liar and a talented one to boot did not do anything to bolster Bumblebee's confidence in Barricade's words.

"Yeah, and I'm Cheech Marin," came the condescending response. "Optimus wants to know what you're doing out here."

The Decepticon snorted, snapping out the blades to his left flail weapon. "Optimus can do the same as you and eat slag. It is none of your business what I am doing here, so beat it before I rip out your vocalizer and stuff it down your intake tubing!"

Bumblebee sidestepped two paces, standing alongside a cracked concrete wall. Should the need arise, he could use that as a makeshift shield. "Been there, done that. Put away your weapons, fuzzy, no need for violence, right?"

He hated the tone in the Camaro's voice. "Which brings me back to the subject on the fact that you shot me to start a chat. Is that how the Autobots are doing it these days? No more 'hello, how are you'?" Barricade sneered hatefully, words dripping with bitter sarcasm.

"Oh, that?" Bumblebee shrugged and tipped his head to the side. Had he possessed a mouth he may have been grinning. "That was payback for Kri-Lee. We're even, creep." The bright yellow Autobot lowered his cannon but kept it warmed up and ready to fire. "All right, listen. I didn't drive all the way out here and hunt you down and spy on you for nothing, so I wanna know what's going on. You don't associate with humans, Barricade. You're too good for them."

"That would be correct," the interceptor spat. "As I stated, he is a mechanic, I was in need of repair. Put the ends together and what do you get? Nothing at all."

"Your internal repair systems would have handled whatever damage just fine."

"Why wait? Why wait for two weeks, rotting under an overpass while my systems finished repairs when I had it settled and done in less than one?" Barricade snorted and ground out a mechanical sound of displeasure. "Leave. Run home to your little fleshling friends and your comrades. I'll be leaving this Primus forsaken city shortly and moving on."

The Chevrolet's blue optics dimmed. "My commander wants to keep tabs on you. You're the last Decepticon threat on Earth."

"The subject of my threat is not an issue. I am concerned over my survival, and that is all. Beat it, brat, and do not follow me, lest you want to be voiceless forever and onwards."

Bumblebee stood for several seconds before turning and walking away. The highway greeted him with open arms and the sleek gold form tore up the asphalt. Thoughts roiled through his intelligent mind; Barricade was not telling the whole truth. He believed with little doubt that the police impersonator was more concerned with his own well being then he was with wreaking havoc, as creating disturbances risked gaining attention. It was deeply ingrained in every Transformers natural survival instinct: to survive, one must hide, be inconspicuous and not draw attention to oneself. Their entire species revolved around hiding in plain sight.

It also made perfect sense that Barricade would not want to lurk around the same area as the Autobots. Bumblebee knew that Ironhide would hardly be inclined to hold a strict ceasefire if he ever found the Saleen Mustang skulking about Tranquility. Along that same thought strain, Barricade's presence in the sleepy little town may have been considered a greater threat anyway, to Sam and Mikaela. It was logical that Barricade would want to stay as far away from a potential menace as possible. Why the doubts? Why the uncertainty? Bumblebee couldn't be sure. The former Decepticon officer was a talented liar and often strung wild lies and created entire worlds based on fallacy. He could fib just about anyone until their head spun; it was one of Barricade's many talents.

Bumblebee had to wonder whether or not he'd received total honesty.

Somehow, he doubted it.