Diclaimer: I don't own Transformers
Please R&R
He had driven through the evening, masking his spark signature and comm. frequencies as he listened to the news of this new strange world. Frenzy had given up trying to talk to him and had slipped into recharge a while ago after folding up into his radio form, tucking himself into his compartment that was normally where Barricade's chest was, as the mustang powered on towards the horizon. He pulled over at an alcove on the deserted road, transforming feeling Frenzy tuck closer underneath his spark in his recharge like a small child snuggling his blanket.
He turned his four crimson optics to the sky, tracing some of the constellations and frowned, they sky was slightly different a star slightly out of place or Orion's belt and the constellation of Pegasus missing altogether. The North Star was five degrees out of place, he noted, referring to his own knowledge of the stars he had secretly learned in his spare time. Contrary to what most Decepticon's believed Barricade did actually have a softer side, he actually cared for Frenzy, the small Hacker that had been attached to his spark ever since he had woken up in the Decepticon medbay knowing nothing of who he was, often acting like a protective mother lion when the hacker failed to return on time from missions, snapping and snarling at anyone who was trying to get him to calm down until the small bot was safely tucked back in his chest compartment. Another of his unknown hobbies was to watch the stars and note the constellations of each world for further examination later when he had time.
He huffed through his intakes, creating a small cloud of dust that was expelled from the vents, he had never recalled his past ever since he had woken up. The Decepticons had walked figurative egg-shells around him for the better part of his early career as a shock trooper for Megatron. He remembered internally fretting about his wings, ghost feelings indicating that the short, sharp doorwings should have been a lot longer than they actually were. He could feel if someone was behind him but not anything else, it had been distracting in the early orns nearly having himself decapitated on several occasions when he was sparring, the gap in the sensory input confusing him.
His first friend had been Blackout. Blackout had joined a vorn after he had awoken, just out of his youngling years but already taller that Brawl and had a temperament to match his own. He had taken the younger mech under his wing teaching him the ways of the Decepticon. He winced as he remembered Blackout's final screech for him across the private comm. the young adult had been scared, something the Decepticons had tried to beat out of every individual warrior. "I'm sorry" he rumbled to the stars, regret filling his spark as he remembered that last shuddering whimper of pain before static had filled the comm. "You were too young"
Was it Primus' curse to be the last one of his faction on earth? He wondered looking down to examine his talons, moonlight shining over the long sharp digits. Was he punishing him for fighting in the wrong faction?
The rumble of jet engines had him casting his ruby optics to the sky again, tracing a formation of jets gliding across the sky; their thrusters spewing fire making them look like comets. He sighed, all this time alone was making his ideas become warped. He always had clarity in his thinking when he was with the other troops, Autobots were to destroy, Decepticons were paving the way for a stronger future. But now, now the whole concept had crumbled, he found himself thinking over the different values of each faction weighing them against each other. "Screw this, I'd rather be neutral" he rumbled to himself as he couldn't come up with a clear winner. And so he sat down and tried his comm. again, all of the numbers he tried came up with powerful static. He refused to comm. Blackout's frequency still feeling the odd sensation of guilt that came with the reminder of the younger mech's death. If only I could cry he thought then I might grieve properly. The stray thought caught him by surprise emerging from a dark portion of his processor. He was so caught up in his examinations he didn't realise that the human jets had started to circle and that they were radioing in to their base of an unknown Transformer with red optics like the Decepticons.
He did hear the first missile however.
The whistle of air had him looking up, weapons on alert at the jets swung away after lightening their load. He growled lowly, giving a Cybertronian curse as one exploded near him throwing dirt and debris of rock up and onto his black and white armour. "I hate squishies" he sighed taking his rifle out of subspace and aiming through the scope, the Decpeicon teachings flying through his processor. Never hesitate. Always go for the kill. Die for your cause. His rifle charged with a high humming sound as one jet came to close to see if any missiles had landed its mark. "Game over" he rumbled firing once.
The explosion rippled throughout the once peaceful night, the human just having spotted the shot and ejected clear of the burning aircraft. The parachute opened up casting a white canvas across the sky. Barricade smirked as he lifted his sniper rifle again "Moving target" he mused aloud wondering if he should shoot the human or just the parachute. It would be painful either way, but the latter would give the human a thirty percent chance of survival if he fell from the height he was at, the numbers springing up from the blacked out side of his processor. "And I would care because?" he snapped at himself. He lowered his weapon in frustration subspacing it and folding down into his alt mode. He revved his engine and took off, his paint job blending him with the shadows as the jets stayed by their downed wingman.
"I'm getting nowhere" he snapped at himself as he accessed the net searching for his position in this world. He nearly howled with frustration when he couldn't find Google maps. "Have they never heard of Google?" he snapped at the internet, hacking into some map of the world and merely guessing where he was. He suddenly spotted the city he had recently vacated and scanned the sign as he passed it. Inserting it into the map to find, the screen zeroed in on the state it was in, "they don't have a Mission city or a Tranquility… Slag" he sighed pulling into an abandoned warehouse, parking in the shadows at the back. "How in the Pit do I get home?"