Chapter XVIII

Cornered

By: The Feesh

The grease monkey found the speed at which his heart was racing to be disconcerting. Forcibly, he tried to quell the trembling in his hands, the violent heaving of his chest as he stared out of a window in garage door six. It was a Camaro. New, not even released yet, and bright yellow. The rest of the motley crew of vehicles were hodge podge and strangely colored to say the least, with the only normal one being the gigantic black pickup truck parked in door one's drive. The search and rescue Hummer was an indecent shade of eye-raping green, the semi tractor was flamboyantly fluorescent in it's color and choice of pattern, and the Camaro was as normal as that bright shade of yellow could possibly be.

There was no way anything human would pick paint like that.

"…Oh shit."

Romano jerked at the sound of the grating voice, realizing he had been staring at the foreign cars without breathing. His chest hurt, he vaguely realized.

Mike blinked furiously. "What do you mean, 'oh shit'?" he asked, voice thin and high sounding.

"They are the ones I have spoken about, who are after me," replied the interceptor, tones gone rougher than the usual gravel. "They will not stop until I am dead or in a cage."

"Why?" queried the human. "Why do they care? Ya haven't bothered me!"

That was a subject Barricade decided was best left unsaid. He merely shook his head, focusing once more on the intruders outside. This was a…terrible problem he now faced. Cornered like a dog, and injured in addition, it seemed he had no choice but to fight as well as he could when the situation came to blows.

The Autobots were in league with the humans, that much Barricade knew. Prime and his Elites would simply tell the United States government via whatever liaison they had that there was at present a direct threat to planetary safety in New York City, negotiations had failed, sorry for the mess but it's taken care of now. They would not hesitate to transform in order to terminate him swiftly and, probably, as painfully as possible. If Ironhide had anything to say about it, anyway. Then, the interceptor surmised, he would join his fallen comrades in the Laurentian Abyss and he would have to be content to rust in pieces at the bottom of the cold, unforgiving ocean. Pity that sort of irony, considering he was honestly (and perhaps unreasonably) terrified of deep water.

How can I salvage this?

The black and white mech shifted, rumbling subsonically in a fashion that Romano couldn't hear, but he could feel it rattling the very marrow within his bones. Mike didn't care for the fact that the gigantic robot's fear was almost palpable, if he even dared to think he could judge what his strange friend was feeling. Still, the New Yorker studied Barricade, noting the way he just stared with such intensity at the garage doors, quadruple optics flicking back and forth rapidly. Like he's trapped. Cornered. Like a pit bull in a cage.

Abruptly, the alien shifted, metal plates exploding from where they had settled before and reshaping anew amidst a horrible grinding, the sound of tearing steel a horrific devil's symphony against Michael's ear drums. Barricade's transformation was rough at the absolute best, and it made the man's teeth clench.

His voice was even harsher. "Michael."

"Y-yeah?" the grease monkey ventured weakly.

"Do you want to help me?"

For the moment, Romano swallowed and only stared at the dinged, dented and paint scuffed interceptor that now sat in his garage. "Well, I d-dunno, man," he tried tentatively, voice shaking. "What about--"

"It is an affirmative or a negative answer question, carbon monkey," said Barricade. "and I will ask again: Do you wish to help me?"

It sure was a good question. The mechanic moved away from the jet black and white Mustang, leaning his back against the cold brick wall of the garage. The silence itself wanted to deafen him as thoughts raced through his mind, possibilities that all seemed to point at one inevitable conclusion: his life had changed, and was not going to go back. Mike was not the sharpest tool in the shed, and he certainly didn't pretend to be, but he understood what Barricade was really asking of him. Helping the Saleen Mustang could mean being on the run from the beings outside, forever. Would they come after him? They certainly seemed the type, since they had come after Barricade for seemingly nothing…

…Seemingly.

"I'll agree, if ya answer me one question," said the New Yorker.

Barricade snarled, a terrible, mechanical noise that wanted to make his companion's ears bleed. "I have no time for question games!"

"No," he replied, and shook his head. "I ain't doin' nothing', then!"

It was either this, or the Autobots tender mercies. "What, then? What do you want?"

Moment of truth. Honestly, Michael wasn't sure he wanted the answer. "Why are they comin' after ya? Really? Aliens or ain't, gotta be a reason."

Ah, such a good question. Such a question that Barricade did not want to answer, but his greatly advanced processes chewed the query over anyway. Flat out refusing to amuse the human would result in the human flat out refusing to help, and the Decepticon needed Michael if he was going to get two steps beyond the garage and continue to live. The Autobots would not fire on him if the innocent little insect was present.

"…All right," he started, but Prime's voice cut through what he was about to say.

"Barricade. Come out and surrender and no weapons will be fired. Do you understand? Too many lives have been lost to frivolously terminate more now."

"I will not surrender for the honor of being caged in some skid plate of a cell, Prime!" he called back, before focusing on the rather quickly-aspirating car mechanic. "We are at war, you slagging skin sack! Their side, against my side, for millions upon millions of years, a conflict of which the intricacies cannot be explained over the course of thirty seconds. In short, it was brought here, and ended here. They won. I am the last of my team, stuck here with them dogging me every step of the way!"

Prime broke through again. "So be it, then."

Barricade started his engine. "That is why. Our kind-- my side, did not want…good things for this planet. That is why they want me. My leader and comrades are all dead, I am one mech! I cannot tell you the reasons why, not now, the story is too long!"

Mike shook his head. The mech sounded goddamned desperate, and he didn't like it. He didn't like the way it made him feel. "A-All right. Okay. What I gotta do?"

Barricade swung his driver's side door open. "Get in."

The Autobots all reacted in simultaneous motion, disregarding the humans about when the garage door opened. They stood after going through their various transformations, weapons at the ready, trained on the slick black prow of the Mustang Saleen Extreme as the door revealed it. Several seconds went by, as they all seemed to decide what the best course of action would be, and slowly, oh so carefully, Barricade began to move forward.

Optimus Prime's optics narrowed when he registered the human sitting in the car. Hostage. He had been through this sort of situation before; he knew what Barricade would ask, before the words even left his vocal unit.

"Autobots, foul Autobots," the interceptor started, his grating voice seeming to come from everywhere. "I am tired of being pursued. Here is how it will be: I will drive away and you will allow me to do so. You will not hunt me, you will not trail or track me. I want to make myself perfectly clear," and for this, the climax of his speech, he switched to their native tongue. "If I so much as suspect I am being followed, there will be many, many innocent human lives forfeited to show for it, starting with him."

"There will be anyway," snarled Ironhide, cannons humming.

The Saleen did not respond. Ratchet placed a hand on Ironhide's arm, shaking his head in a silent gesture that anyone who knew them would recognize. The medic wasn't exactly of a cold temperament himself, but he was far cooler than the very, very hot blooded Autobot gunner.

Optimus looked around, contemplating the quiet. The humans of this city had scattered as soon as they had all stood up, and he knew damn well there would be words for revealing themselves like this. Still, chairman Morshower and his team would take care of it, even if it seemed, disappointingly, that they would still have to worry over Barricade's presence in the country. He was tired of war; Prime wanted nothing more than to allow the Saleen his freedom, to leave him be and let him live as he chose. They all deserved that chance, but before Barricade got his, it needed to be ensured that he would go his own way without violence against the humans. No matter what Ironhide threatened, the elder leader had always intended on letting the interceptor go in the end, if it could be made possible.

"Very well, Barricade." The Peterbilt ignored the scathing look he received from the Topkick. "You will not be hunted. I do suggest, however, that you deposit the human as soon as you see fit to do so. Killing him will not make me consider leaving your freedom intact. Am I clear?"

"Clear as a tepid lake in spring. Move!"

He wanted out. He was entirely too aware of the multitudes of eyes on them. He could see how the insects nearby crouched and stared in silence and awe, and some in curiosity at the Autobots as they stood before them. More so he felt the burning, itching gaze of the wretches themselves as they seemed content to try and bore holes into his hide with the power of their optical alignments alone. Oh, how Barricade dearly wished he could just kill them all and go about his business…

This would do for now. Optimus stepped once to the left, leaving plenty of room for the Saleen to move out onto the street. All traffic had stopped, but Barricade was insistent and pushy, and the cab drivers and personal vehicles all got out of his way as he slunk his way through the traffic. All Optimus could do was watch, and none of his team blamed him for it. Not even Ironhide questioned it. If it had come down to a knock down, drag out fight between them and the Decepticon Elite, with nothing to lose but a life without freedom, Barricade would have died, and he would have been sure to take who knows how many city blocks with him. It was not worth the risk.

"Let us leave these people to their business. Autobots, transform and roll out."