A/N: It is here! The last flashback Chapter of "Angel with a Shotgun"! Yay. So sorry for not posting until now. Today was a very lazy day. I seriously went from one pair of pjs to a different pair, and that was my "getting dressed". So...yeah...anyways, I had the brilliant idea of having the Chapter end the way it does, to kind of bring it around full circle, if yah know what I mean. Also, yes. Barricade is Delta's dad. I thought that was a good way of explaining Delta's way of acting around authority figures, and also why he seemed to be more comfortable with the Decepticons than with the Autobots. It's because of him having his dad's more gruff, slightly brutish personality. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. I only own the story and any and all OCs in said story. If there's someone you're not familiar with, it's probably an OC.
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He holds back a creative curse as the wall near him turns to dust from the gunfire. It's been two months since he graduated from the Enforcers Academy and had been sent to his Sire's department in the heart of the city.
First it had been mostly paperwork, writing up reports of different things, helping book criminals and idiotic Mechs who didn't know their servo from their ped. You know, fun stuff like that.
But then, the day finally came. A ride-along with his old Mech. He was finally able to go with him on a patrol, finally able to get some real experience with being an Enforcer. But the Mech they'd pulled over for speeding had snapped, becoming half-crazed once he saw the decals decorating their armor.
Weapons were pulled, demands were shouted, the marketplace where they were pinned down—a veteran and his rookie kid—was in shambles, the two taking cover in a small stand that had long since been abandoned by the owner once the shooting started.
Chuckling brings him out of his thoughts, his attention diverting from the Mech with the trigger-happy servos, to the black-and-white form next to him.
"Well, kid, this all you hoped it would be?"
He glares.
"Minus the fragged-off Mech trying to take our helms off? Pretty good job at meeting expectation."
Barricade grins.
"C'mon, you weren't really expecting a boring desk job, now were you? That's the last thing any self-respecting Mech from our Clan would want."
Their Clan. Right. Him, his Sire, and his Carrier. They're small, tight-knit clan. That's what his Creators always called it. They always had each other's backs.
"At least tell me the back-up is almost here. I'm running out of stuff to throw at him."
Barricade chuckles, "If my timing is right, which it always is-" there's a snort from the younger Mech but he ignores it, "-then our back-up should be coming any second. In fact, I can hear the sirens."
Oh, so that's what that weird buzzing whine was. He just thought his audios were gonna blow from the constant weapons-fire. But no. Now that he'd mentioned it, he could actually hear the cry of the sirens as they get closer and closer.
Peaking around the edge of the counter, he finally sees an opening—the Mech had turned away from them, his helm swiveling as he tries to find them in the rubble. Prepping his weapon to its most powerful stun, he launches to his peds and takes aim.
"DuskShot, what-"
He fires. The shot hits him square in the back, electricity crackling over his body. The Mech stumbles. His feeling of relief at this finally ending vanishes when the Mech wheels around, aiming straight for him.
His optics widen.
The weapon fires. He's thrown back, his armor exploding away from him. He hits the ground, audios ringing from the surprising power of the weapon. He feels Energon slide down his neck from the remains of his audio where the shot grazed his helm.
"DUSKSHOT!"
He tries to answer, but his voice wouldn't cooperate. He could see others converging into the square, taking down the crazed Mech and securing the area. A blurring figure appears above, optics wide and filled with fear. The figure's voice is muffled, but he hears him shout something about needing a Medic.
His vision fades, darkness greeting him.
Warning…Energon levels critical...
Power…50% and decreasing…
Damage…Seek Medical assistance…
Weapons offline…
Comm. offline…
Tracking systems offline…
Memory files….Error…
Error…
Error…
He groans, his optics slowly opening. His vision was fractured—his visor was broken right down the middle, revealing a dim, amber-colored orb, as well as hairline cracks on what remained of the glass visor. He slowly sits up, placing a hand on his helm, feeling a large dent on his temple. Looking at his surroundings, he takes in the different shades of brown. Looking up, he sees a bright blue sky. Turning around, he takes in the mangled metal…something behind him, sparks flying everywhere.
Where…where was he?
He tries to stand, but his legs give out, and he falls back down, his helm spinning. What happened? Why couldn't he remember anything?
Sudden engines make him look up. He stiffens at the sight of five strange vehicles speeding towards him. The vehicles stop, and strange little organic creatures step out of the vehicles, holding weapons. They surround him, aiming their weapons at him. He didn't know if they would do any damage, but honestly, he didn't want to find out.
One of the creatures steps forward, the weapon in his hand lowered, but ready, his stance one of wariness.
"I am Sergeant Kris Stanton. Who, and what are you?"
He pauses. It takes him a few seconds to understand the strange little creature, though soon it's as clear as the sky above him. But what was he supposed to say?
"I…I don't know. I can't…I-I can't remember anything."
The creature's stance softens, and he holds up a servo, the others lowering their weapons. He takes another step forward.
"It seems like you have no hostile intentions towards our planet. Am I right?"
He hesitates, then nods. He really didn't have any reason to hurt these strange organics. They looked friendly enough. But he was still very cautious.
The creature, "Kris", smiles.
"Well, then let me be the first to say, welcome to Earth."