Chapter XV

It Just Stood Up

By: The Feesh

As with anything, human coolness and sanity had its limits. The moment the Saleen police interceptor unfolded like some perversion of an origami masterpiece and stood up, it was safe to say that Michael James Romano lost any and all semblances of his.

"….Holy shit!"

Barricade was satisfied enough at the moment to watch his monkey of interest back hastily away from him and note with some irritation how low the ceilings were. The New Yorker's back met the brick wall, and he dumbly felt around for anything he could grab while keeping his deer like sights locked firmly on the two legged monstrosity standing in his garage. At least he thought it was two legged. One..two..three…..fuck it!

"Hold up, now! What th' fuck izzis?" he asked with a definite tremor to his voice, hands coming up with a baseball bat he kept in the garage. "What the fuck are ya?"

"We have been over that already, you bird brained carbon collection," Barricade responded with some tartness.

Mike swallowed. "S-so yer an alien. An' a robot." After a short pause, he continued: "Wasn't it somethin' like robots I heard that laid the smackdown in that city 'cross the country? California?"

"Yes."

"But that was a fraud! Someone made it up."

"Evidently not, considering the point that I was involved in that battle." The Decepticon chose to merely smile rather than elaborate on which side he had been on… the mechanic had no need to possess that knowledge yet.

The grin, so full of razors and knives, sent a shiver down the human's spine and made his sweat go cold despite the heat of the coils above. "B-b-but—"

"Do not ask questions," instructed Barricade, lifting one long talon to make his point. "You will get no answers. Not yet. Not this early in the game."

"The ga—"

"Michael, surely you realize the level of trust I have given you to even so much as show you my natural form. I do not expect my risk to be proven a mistake." Double rows of backwards curving teeth showed in a gesture that was most certainly not an amicable one. "Am I correct in my assumption, Michael Romano?"

His grip on the handle of the Louisville Slugger was as white-knuckled as it could get. "Ain't..ain't gonna say nothin'."

"Good. Then put down the bat before I break it."

"Break it? This is a freakin' Louisville Slugger. You can't—"

SNAPcrunch.

"..Break… it.."

The Saleen dropped the two pieces of the bat. "Can't I?"

It was too much to take in. The mechanic slid to a seated position with his back against the cold wall and just stared at his rather unique guest. Unlike the smooth, speed-bred Mustang S281, this being, this creature was bereft of fine curves and covered instead with layered armor and jagged spikes. Even the edges of its – his – skin looked to have been sharpened. Barricade's face was beyond inhuman; proud dual headcrests gave way to a monstrous face set like something out of a nightmare, with four laser like eyes and a jaw built like a bear trap. Beneath that, he merely oozed power and authority, from headlights that were situated in his massive chest down to the blade-sharp talons that capped his armored fingers.

Michael looked at himself comparatively, humbled. They both shared so many similarities and yet the differences were staggering. Two legs and two arms, a mouth, eyes…but Barricade appeared to have no nose, and certainly seemed devoid of, upon a quick look, any sort of organs that might define his gender. Soft, supple human skin versus unyielding knives and metal; the human male certainly felt self-effacing in the presence of such an imposing creature.

"What are you?" he whispered.

"Some alien races referred to us as 'Transformers'. It rings a certain truth."

Romano stood up slowly, looking up at the by far taller form of the beast dressed in black. His eyes lingered over the reflective lettering on white panels that spelled a word most associated with safety, with speeding tickets and annoyance, but still with safety at it's heart. It was a word that meant defense, having a hero when you need one, and someone to give you a kick to the ass when you did something stupid. Barricade did not seem to fit into those descriptions. He was vile, he was mean, he was casually insulting and threatening … very much like so many New Yorkers Michael knew. That thought made the giant in his garage somewhat less daunting.

Just enough, in fact, for the greasemonkey to slowly step forward in frightened curiosity. Barricade watched closely, shifting, as Michael walked around him in a slow but cautiously respectful circle, keeping his distance but displaying an intense wonder for what he was seeing. Barricade's body was like a mosaic, a sculpture made of ragged pieces of iron and junkyard scraps set to form all the basic limbs a creature required for bipedal survival. Slapped on at the very end, it seemed, of the artist's masterpiece of death was the evidence of his other form, the formidable Saleen Mustang police interceptor.

"Why… why police? Why ya mock tha police?"

Barricade grunted. "Your so-called police are a mockery in and of themselves, but I suspect that is not the answer you are looking for. Taking the form such as the one I have chosen was merely an admittedly ironic means to an end. No one looks at a police car twice."

"I guess 'dat makes sense," the bewildered mechanic replied. After a moment, another question arose, or rather, a curiosity. "…Y' are a 'he', ain'tcha?"

"That is what I am called, yes."

"…So where's yer…yannow…"

The silence and the stare Mike received told him that Barricade did not, in fact, have the foggiest clue what he was talking about.

"…Yer.. yannow.. bits."

A blink. "My what?"

"Aw, c'mon man. The twig 'n cherries, the sausage and meatballs!"

"…That is truly vulgar and revolting. I have none."

Romano opened his mouth to say something, but stopped short. "What now?"

"I said that I have none. My species possesses no means by which to physically reproduce, and thus, I have no gender," the mech clarified. Michael noted he thought Barricade was beginning to look a mite bit annoyed.

The New Yorker tilted his head and asked, "So why ya call yerself a 'he'?"

To which the Cybertronian responded: "It is a little less degrading than 'it', now isn't it?"

Mike Romano went silent at that, watching his current guest with his back against the wall. "Why… why are ya here? On Earth?"

Barricade chuckled, tilting his helm to side. "Many reasons. None of which are appropriate at the moment to reveal."

A thought occurred to the human. "It ain't... an invasion, izzit?" Flashes of Hollywood tales and movies crossed his mind. Shit and chips, that would suck.

"No. You would not be so fortunate…"

The mech's skin seemed to ripple briefly, a motion that caught Michael's attention like a moth to the sight of flame. Barricade decided that he had spent long enough on two feet and dropped back into alternate form, settling smoothly into the glossy black and white form of the five-hundred-fifty horsepower road monster that made regular Mustang GT's look like Hondas. Mike relaxed in the more familiar presence, wiping his face off. What a night…

"There's a couch in the office. I think.. I'mma just turn in for the night. You stickin' around?" he asked.

"No, I would much rather go sit out on the curb at the mercy of winter," the interceptor grumbled sardonically.

"Right. See you in the morning."

And so you shall.

Author's Note:

So here we are. Chapter 16 is nearly finished, and will be up soon, but in the meantime, visit my site! Survival: Earth is an open-to-every-level RPG site based on the 2007 Movie and beyond. With the coming of the 2009 movie an entire slew of new canon characters are now available for play!

http:// survivalearth . yuku. com/

Just remove the spaces.