Title: Sparks 6: Jacked In
Pairing BeexSam (with others developing)
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.
This has been beta'd but nobody's perfect. Comments and Critiques are welcomed and encouraged.
Thanks!
A:N This fic has been my baby for a while now and I really appreciate all the feedback I've received. Feel free to leave a comment with anything. Be it request, ideas or just speculation. I want to know what you think. Thanks to Dragoona and Tsumiden. You guys are the best. This chapter is dedicated to Muzai .( Happy 21st baby, you've come a long way.)!
(And to those who might not have been paying attention this chapter is rated (M)
That means dark things be a happening. Consider yourself warned.
To all who read this thanks and enjoy.
So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!
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Sparks 6
Jacked In
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Stuck in the deranged police cruiser, Sam kicked the back of the driver's seat and demanded his freedom. Barricade responded by shifting gears, increasing his speed over the cracked streets. Outside the window the scenery whipped by, the Decepticon's sirens screaming the whole way. Stuck along for the ride Sam alternated between pounding on the windows and digging his house keys into the leather seats, trying to stop his kidnapping-in-progress. The traditional divider was missing in the Deception's alternat,e mode so there was nothing to stop the teen from making his way into the front seats.
Weaving between a truck and the meridian the Barricade sped up again, the force of the maneuver flattening the teen to the back-seat. Unwilling to give up, Sam knelt instead; the minor shift of equilibrium allowing him to half crawl, half drag himself between the front seats.
Digging his fingers into the headrests, the teen rose into a crouch. Precariously balanced, he slammed his foot hard against the gearshift throwing the car immediately into chaos. The forced gears shifting made an awful grating sound as the cruiser slammed into reverse. Almost as quickly the brakes engaged, the Interceptor halting in its tracks. Slamming against the dashboard, Samuel was only half aware of the horns and squealing tires of the other cars on the road.
Scrabbling at the steering wheel he clung to both it and the gearshift pulling his way into the driver's seat. Between his fingers, the gearshift moved again, heedless of his vice-like grip. The engine revved again and the car took off. Staring out the windshield Witwicky gritted his teeth and hung on. Switching lanes, Barricade whipped past a semi and in front of a school bus filled with kids. Kicking the dashboard as they passed the exit for Mission City, Sam swore again and toed his foot toward the brake.
Hard fingers curled about his throat, cutting off the air to his lungs.
Above Sam's body appeared the not quite-there-representation of the Police car. Blond hair stuck out oddly from the black cap on his head and the almost handsome face twisted with concentration as he attempted to wring the life from the boy. The non-biological strangling him settled heavily over his body, a knee digging painfully into his groin. That discomfort was minor compared to the denial of oxygen to his systems. It hurt, by god it hurt. He was dying, he could feel it again. He was going to die, he had to escape, had to stop it.
Striking the body pinning him, Sam aimed for vital organs and that sneering face. It did him no good, the nails dug into him and bruised the flesh of his neck. Gasping for air, Sam railed against his attacker clawing at the strong hands; tried to fight and above all survive.
The assault continued, the mech choking the life from its human passenger as he sped down the freeway. If the boy was going to be such a nuisance, he was far better off dead.
Megatron would not be pleased, but the lure of ending Witwicky's life was far too tempting for Barricade to pass up. Tightening his grip slowly he could feel the soft tissues beneath his fingers, could sense the adrenaline surging through the organic system. Against his grip the pitiful little thing writhed and struggled, tragically unable to protect itself. The human's terror flowed off of him in waves; the beauty in its pain twisted features would be etched in Barricade's optics until the day he off-lined permanently. Oh, this moment he would enjoy.
Sam gasped again, his strength failing him in the end. Unable to even scream, he looked into the glowing red eyes of his murderer. He stared, imprinting the last humanoid face he'd ever see. He stared until his eyes watered. He stared until his vision swam and his heart raced. Flickering red light danced before his eyes and he sagged in the chair, his chest burning. The last thing he was aware of was the derisive laughter of the Con as everything faded from sight.
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Frenzy paced the walls of his tiny prison and hissed angrily. Here he was, held captive by the Autobots, locked away until they could figure out what to do with him. As if he, a Deception would submit to their pretty little ideals of peace and love. Locked away in a little box, it was not the worst punishment he'd ever received. Megatron would do worse for a mech that failed him on a regular basis. Imprisoned, it wasn't death, but it was a long way from failure. He was at the least still functioning. It was far better than most of his companions.
The slagging Autobots had him trapped in the middle of nowhere. As far as he could tell he was far beneath the surface of the Earth encased in a box of steel, encased in concrete. He'd already attempted escape, but he was certainly not the burrowing sort of mech. That was better left to Blackout's drone Scorponok. Rolling and twisting in the four by four space the cassette snarled. There was barely enough room for him to maneuver or even fully stretch. The Autobots had grasped the concept of psychological torture all to well.
It was probably the big brute's idea. Ironhide had a severe dislike of Decepticons, not that he blamed him. Smashing his head into the wall, the mech swore loud in three incomprehensible languages. He couldn't even access a satellite. The absolutely worst thing about the situation was the silence. He could handle being frozen, he could handle not knowing if he would awaken or not. What he could not stand was the glaring lack of any signal at all, friendly or otherwise.
Clawing his little coffin Frenzy briefly considered off-lining himself, just for something to do. The Autobots would just love that. Oh they would squirm at the sight of his limp, silent body. They'd probably even try to save him. As tempting as the thought was he had neither the tools nor skills to make sure his "suicide" wasn't permanent. No matter how bored he was, Frenzy was not about to give the Autobots the pleasure of watching him break. He'd sooner convert to their side and help the stupid fleshy insects.
The irony of the concept was not lost on him. He knew very well that his appearance was rather comparable to an insectoid species that inhabited the Primus forsaken ball of dirt, water and organics. It wasn't as if the measly creatures weren't killing it off themselves. Dropping to the impenetrable surface of his new home, he curled up chittering to himself. It was best to give up and go crazy from the beginning of the isolation. There was more of a chance to inflict chaos and torment on that which came to inspect him first.
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Mikaela ducked the missile aimed at her and slipped into the alley. The aftershock of the attack slammed her against the wall and she grimaced. This was not what she needed today. Flicking open her cell the pressed the third speed dial, again. Not ten minutes before, the suspected Decepticon vehicle she'd been tailing had suddenly turned on her and fired, its wheels spinning as she scrambled for cover.
Fleeing the territorial rage of an as-of-the-moment unidentified Cybertronian Mikaela Banes nearly had a heart attack. There in the alley was it? No it couldn't have been but there it was. The very truck she'd used during the Mission City battle to save Bumblebee. The paint job needed some work and the window was covered in plastic and tape, but she was convinced it was the most beautiful vehicle she'd ever seen in her life.
Rushing to the white Ford, the young woman smoothed her hand along the driver's side door, thankful for the miracle before her.
"I am so glad to see you. Remember me?"
She cut the plastic right down the middle and reached inside the parked truck. She'd would totally call Mike's towing and reimburse them or something, somehow, but now was really not the time. Hell, she didn't even know why she was talking to the truck itself. Maybe it was the panic maybe it wasn't, maybe it was the fact she had a close bond with giant alien cars or maybe it wasn't
She'd deal with it later.
"Listen, I'm in a bit of a jam and I need your help again. I promise I'll make it up to you. If only you'd jus-"
Just as before the rumbling of the engine was sweet music to her ears. Slipping to the driver seat she grinned at the Déjà vu and put the truck in gear. She cut it a bit close, but pulled out into the street accelerating past the car that had tried to kill her. Thankful for small miracles she kissed the steering wheel between her fingers and headed out of the city and her pursuer followed close behind.
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Trying to urge his heart back out of his throat, Miles took a deep breath as Trent raged behind him. Tipped over on the sidewalk was his "precious baby" and all he did was scream. What a baby.
She was upside-down, half on the sidewalk, crushing a parking meter with a cracked window on one side and a major dent on the other. The Hummer's driver's side door was practically inverted on its hinge and the weight of the vehicle was crushing the frame further into the pavement. As he stared at the damage, Trent tried calling his insurance company again. They'd hung up on him the first time.
It wasn't that Miles didn't sympathize with him. There were just more important things to be worrying about like Sam.
"Fuck!" Miles shouted balling his fists.
How could this have happened?
He had just gotten Sam back, only to have him ripped away days later. It was the beginning of a cruel vicious cycle. He was definitely reconsidering his stance on illegal aliens, the robotic transforming kind.
This was definitely not good. He couldn't panic. He had to calm down for Sam's sake. He had to think.
Still lamenting the fate of his "baby" DeMarco furiously turned on the teen.
"This is your fault!"
Already frustrated the blond absolutely refused to take his bait.
He wasn't going to take it. Not at all. Sam needed him more than Trent needed as crash course in common decency.
"I'm talking to you, fairy. It's a wonder you didn't get arrested for crimes against humanity."
Clenching his fists, Miles held firm to his beliefs. He was not about to let DeMarco get to him.
He'd survived classes with him for years. Five little minutes were nothing.
"DeMarco I don't have time for this." He replied sharply.
"What's wrong, afraid they'll have at your little boyfriend before you do?"
Slapping his hand over his face Miles tried another tactic.
"You just don't get it do you? That was not a police officer. Hell that wasn't even a real car!'
Trent stared at him for a full four seconds before looking back to his cell. He turning he muttered something about insurance and triple A.
Miles groaned, he wasn't even sure why he was still standing there. Things were happening too fast and he didn't know what to do. Sam was depending on him to help or at least get the "The Car". And there he was trying to prove something to Trent freakin' DeMarco. Some help he was.
"Give me your phone!" he demanded with a snarl.
"What?"
"Give me your phone!" he repeated, pointing at the cell.
Trent lowered his sunglasses and narrowed his eyes in an implied threat. Miles was no where near as impressed as he used to be or even remotely surprised.
"It's a matter of life or death!"
Moving back to the upside-down blue Hummer, Trent refused.
Again the exasperated teen wasn't surprised.
"Okay let me put this in words that even you can understand. If you don't give me the phone right now, the Decepticons are going to get away with this and Sam will die!"
Covering the phone, Trent gave the little homo-freak a withering stare.
"So?"
If possible Lancaster looked even more pathetic than he usually did.
"Sam. Will. Die!"
"And that's my problem how again?"
The clenched fists and the set of Lancaster's jaw briefly reminded the jock of that day on his porch six years prior. Stepping back from the fuming young man Trent hoped desperately that the freak wouldn't try to kiss him again.
Miles took two steps forward, peaceful mantra forgotten in his rage. That fucking jerk was going to get a piece of his mind. He stopped dead as the bright blue Hummer began to shudder. Every curse, threat and complaint died on his lips as the previously tipped vehicle unfolded into a rather familiar shape. Well sort of.
In the middle of downtown Tranquility in broad daylight the Autobot, at least he hoped it was an Autobot was transforming. Behind them patrons filed out of a shop staring in horror. Briefly reminded of the Mission City Incident Miles sighed. Further down the block someone screamed and cars screeched to a halt. Panic seemed to set in their audience seemed to disburse in a mass of screaming people. Surprised but almost relieved the teen turned back to the bot.
The doors slid away as the bumper shifted upward, the pieces rearranging themselves into a new figure. The torso was broader and rounder than Bumblebee's; the alien was definitely taller as well. The bright blue shades meshed perfectly with the silver along the long legs and curled up its sides and shoulders. There was an odd sort of beauty in the machine pushing to its feet. It had to be twenty feet at the least. Once finished, the Cybertronian loomed over them its optics brightening.
"Tell me you didn't just say Decepticons."
It was then Trent began screaming, again. Dropping to his butt, his mouth fell open as he stared up at the creature that used to be his precious baby. Miles nodded solemnly and snatched the cell phone from his fingers.
"Fraid I did… ma'am."
Ma'am, it was obviously feminine, the voice too sweet and sensuous to be anything else.
His eyes roamed back over her chassis and he this time he had no doubt she was a female of the alien species.
"Chromia." she corrected softly, her tone affecting a southern lilt.
Nodding, he turned back to the phone and searched the call list for a particular number.
If they were going to handle the situation, they were going to need help.
Still not quite recovered from the shock, DeMarco stood and pulling the sunglasses from his face.
"You can talk?"
"I can do more than just that." The bot purred leaning closer.
Unnerved he almost stepped back, but his eyes caught the Hummer symbol on her arm.
She was his car. His car. Oh Boy. His car was that thing…. Chromia he corrected himself, she was his car.
Slowly almost against his will, he reached out to touch her.
Somewhere beyond his field of vision, he heard Miles talking to himself.
"-no not there, then she must be under… ah ha, Bunny!"
Confused, Trent stared at the machine unable to say anything, well unable to say anything of consequence.
That living breathing car-thing was his. The giant car was his. The robot cart thing was his-
"Bunny?" he repeated dumbly from his robotic induced stupor. She laughed leaning close enough for him see his own startled reflection in her panels. The bright eyes flickered in what he assumed was a wink.
"Yeah honey?"
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Relief and panic simultaneously invaded his overwhelmed senses as Sam tried to sit up. A spasm of pain rippled through him and he groaned, even making the sound was painful. A quick glance and he ascertained three things about his surroundings.
One, he was in an abandoned warehouse of some kind; two he was surrounded by Decepticons and three the floor beneath him was covered in blood. A wave of nausea struck him hard and he covered his mouth trembling on the cold surface. Barricade loomed over him, optics glinting.
He scuttled back across the floor, his hands found a bit of stray tubing, and he lifted it and swung. An offhanded blow knocked him easily from his feet. Dazed he barely had time to he avoid the massive fist slamming into the wall of the "base". Fury etched into the mech's features as his claws closed over the fleshling on the floor.
"You interfere with me again and I will make you suffer as you beg for death."
Squirming under the rumbling Decepticon, Samuel was only too happy allow his displeasure to be known. The saliva trailing down the enraged shock trooper's face was by far the last straw.
Closing his hand tight the Decepticon lifted the boy from the floor and slammed down hard, knocking the air from his lungs. Coughing the human struggled, trying anything that would dislodge himself from the grasp.
His attempts were ineffective but he tried, earning a cruel chuckle from the transformed cruiser.
"You wouldn't dare." He rasped and his words rung with false bravado, the mech was unimpressed.
"Your presence here is enough to make the Autobots suffer more than just killing you outright."
The snarled words rumbled over him, as the Decepticon tore at the fabric and flesh over his torso.
He winced again clawed at the metal fingers pinning him, desperate for some sort of escape. The digits enveloping him squeezed just a little harder. "Your condition however is negotiable."
"Barricade." The command in that voice stilled the alien-robot intent on ending his life.
Squirming in the tight grasp Sam caught sight of his savior and doom. Megatron, the harbinger of death and evil megalomaniac moved closer, the other robots parting before him. Sam found himself dropped back onto the cold floor and the shooting pain in his side was enough to distract him from almost anything. Shoved to his knees before the Lord and Master of the Decepticons, he stared up at the walking nightmare and trembled.
"You, fleshy pathetic insect that wrestled my victory from me."
Sharp talons raked across his back tearing both fabric and skin. Hissing in pain, teen wobbled falling forward to his hands; even so he could not wrest his gaze from the eyes glowing in the dark.
A single claw eased over his shoulder and forced up his chin.
"Tell me how you wish to die."
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Ironhide rolled out of the Hoover Dam motor pool following the speeding yellow Camaro closely.
Bumblebee had been petty but had preformed his duties as ordered by his commander, nothing more could have been expected of him. If the Autobots were to remain on the third planet in the Sol system they had to make peace with the natives. Even if they didn't particularly care for them.
Reginald Simmons was quite possibly the most irritating human he'd met so far, but even he could change. He'd been faultlessly polite, even going so far as to inquiring about their well-being. While Ironhide hadn't cared to respond he could respect the sentiment.
The junior officer had taken the moment to express himself in his own endearing fashion.
"Well,I'mnotokay,I'mnoto-fucking-kay"
The operative had stepped back choking on his words. The scout had been smug until informed that Optimus would hear of his stunt. He'd refrained from pulling that particular trick again, but the meeting had gone down hill from there.
Attempting to humor Bumblebee and keeping the peace had been a full time responsibility,
Optimus probably should have sent Ratchet, but he hadn't and Ironhide would go willingly to the pit before he failed his commander. They'd been reacquainted with the command structure and the ranking personnel.
The humans Maggie Madsen and Glen Whitmann had been pleasant to interact with, the female had gone so far as to asking permission to touch Bumblebee. He'd almost refused her, having formed an attachment with another human already, but he'd finally relented when she insisted it would be a hands only sort of thing. Mr. Whitmann had only watched, at one point he mumbling something about hot women and hot cars. She'd glared at the comment, but Bumblebee chirped in agreement.
Getting back on topic, the Autobots were introduced to the few Earth-born Cybertronians in protective custody. The seven-foot tall, four armed, soft drink dispensing creature known as Dewbot was polite and unexpectedly brilliant. Bumblebee unfortunately made the mistake of calling it cute in their native tongue. In response Dewbot analyzed his statement, downloaded the language samples isolated from the Decepticons in the Qatar base and Air Force One attacks, translated the information, pieced together their basic alphabet and simply told the Camaro exactly where he could shove it. All of that was done in the forty-five seconds it took to give Glen a soda. Ironhide liked him already.
In the end, the overall progress was acceptable. While their previous methods had been undesirable the honesty and forethought that Sector Seven now presented was admirable. It almost made him ignore what they were hiding. Simmons was dedicated man, but he had his pride. In the end, his results would justify his means, no matter the consequence. Bumblebee was proof.
Ironhide rumbled and sped up, passing a few drivers to reach the scout.
"Slow your roll, kid, this isn't a race."
Bumblebee made to respond, but something had drawn his attention. Scanning the surrounding area he discovered something of interest. Relaying the information to his lieutenant, he whipped across three lanes of freeway traffic and made for the off ramp. Blaring his horn the black truck followed, texting Will on the way, he'd be late getting home.
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So maybe going out to the middle of nowhere was the worst idea she'd ever had, save for her tragic choice of boyfriends. In her humble opinion, life kind of sucked. Dangling upside down from her seatbelt Mikaela Banes was so not panicking. Glancing out the nonexistent window she caught sight of the mech stomping towards her. Smothering curses she rattled her seatbelt, struggling for freedom.
With each step it took the earth shook and the white pickup wobbled dangerously. Finally working her way free, she patted the steering wheel in appreciation and apology. Crawling from the wreckage she wiped the blood from her arm and made for the pseudo-safety of the hills. If she could just get away from the car stalking her, she might have a chance. Skirting the smoking crater the F350 had flipped into she ran and didn't look back.
For the second time in her life things exploded, bits of rubble flew through the air, and Mikaela found herself lifted from her feet. Screaming hysterically, she struggled in the large fingers pounding and kicking her captor. Steeling herself, Mikaela looked up to see what had just happened. On the ground twitching was her pursuer with a sizable hole blown out of its chest.
Holding her in his hand, was quite possible the most beautiful mech she'd ever seen.
The blue and white head moved forward his silver faceplate nearly touching her trembling body.
"Are you alright?"
Blinking rapidly she stepped across his hand embracing his face.
"I am so much more that alright. You just saved my life."
Thank god for small miracles, no scratch that. Thank god for large miracles that came in the shape of giant-alien-robots. As she held him, she could hear the whirring of the joints and mechanic bits inside.
"You asked me for help." He replied softly, the actions vibrating her form.
She laughed and he released him and managed a bright smile. "That I did and you so came through. You are totally my hero."
The remarked seemed to surprise him, but he nodded his assent.
The sound of tires kicking up gravel came closer and two familiar figures made their appearance. The yellow Camaro stopped short as the truck lowered Mikaela to the ground. Smiling she waved to him and Ironhide as he came closer.
"Mikaela?"
"You would not believe the day that I've had."
The mechs looked briefly to the wreckage in the dust. Bumblebee honked in reply.
"Ok so maybe you would." She relented.
Behind her the truck shifted back into his slightly abused alt. Ironhide moved closer ready to attack.
"Is this guy a friend of yours?"
She never got the chance to answer as her cell began to ring. Rolling her eyes at the name in the caller id, she considered ignoring it. Practicality however won out. She moved away from the circle of vehicles to answer the caller. As she departed, the Aliens took the time to introduce themselves.
"Ironhide and Bumblebee, Cybertron"
"Long Arm, Earth,"
They didn't get much further than that because Mikaela's voice suddenly got louder.
"Why the hell are you on Trent's phone? What about Sam?"
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It had happened so fast. That hand trapped him again and he'd screamed. The human's struggles were in vain as he was lifted from the floor once more. In brief moments before his earned execution, something unexpected happened. Sam's much-abused shirt finally gave out, splitting right down the back dropping him again to the floor. Once again, denied his malicious entertainment the Decepticon leader tossed the torn fabric away reaching for the stunned human. Just before his talons pierced the supple flesh a single light caught the lines decorating his pale torso. All at once among the assorted aliens, optics processed the marks and analyzing them as they all reached the same conclusion.
"The All Spark."
Sam trembled under their scrutiny and Megatron loomed closer. For the second time in so many days, he feared for his life. The claws touched him again, a firm pressure on his torso but nothing more. His heart pounded in his chest, it was almost louder than the buzz in his ears. Another poke and he swayed on his feet, the buzzing became louder and his vision swam. Another poke and he wobbled suddenly dizzy, unable to remain standing.
When he finally fell, no one cared. All optics turned to Megatron fearful and apprehensive.
"It is the All Spark, but it is useless to me in that pathetic shell."
Scrutinizing the Mechs before him he continued. "Starscream, remove the cube or find a way to harness its power. Do not fail me again."
Scowling at the weak boy on the floor the Air Commander could only reply favorably.
"Yes my Lord Megatron."
Turning suddenly the seeker swept from the room snapping at a subordinates as he moved off.
"Barricade! Bring the human."
Seizing the limp youth for the second time that evening the cruiser followed the fuming mech.
Dangling from the mechanical digits Sam could do nothing but groan.
The room, more of a factory floor than anything else; was cold and filled with twisted machines and broken metal. In the corner, he caught sight of the mangled bits of a Decepticons in a heap. Crossing the threshold Barricade deposited him none too gently on a makeshift table. Scrambling away from his tormenter the human was surprised by the sudden appearance of someone else. The shorter machine moved along the floor its segmented tail swinging as it climbed up beside him
Starscream watched as the human scooted to the center of the platform, his primitive organic optics searching for any escape. Starscream briefly allowed it to cling to its foundling hope before crushing that too. Slamming a claw against the metal, he knocked the weakling's legs from under it. Scorponok chittered moving along the edge scanning the human carefully. Turning to its superior, it simply transmitted the information it ascertained. 'Lord Megatron can not control it because the system is not compatible. There is nothing in the organic that can be used to access the All Spark, better to remove it than keep the fleshy thing.'
Responding in English, Starscream refused. "There must be some sort of upgrade to allow us to utilize its primitive systems. If there wasn't, the All Spark would not have bonded with it."
Scanning the terrified human again and comparable medical data from the Internet, the scorpion did indeed find a solution. Relaying the data to the Air Commander it awaited his approval. Tapping his claws on the table, Starscream couldn't have been more pleased with the turn of events if he'd slammed the All Spark into the fleshling himself.
"Acceptable, Proceed"
Shivering on the long table Sam jumped as the massive claw of the F-22 slammed beside him. At the other end of the table, the metal scorpion moved closer, a thin needle extending from the tip of its tail. Trapped between two Decepticons, Sam stood hands clenched. He was not going down without a fight; he'd fought them before. The creature struck fast, faster than he could see. Instinctively throwing himself to the table, he avoided the first attack but not the second. The stinger impaled his raised arm at the wrist splattering his blood everywhere. Just as quickly it withdrew, the mech hissing incomprehensibly. Choking back his screams, Sam briefly saw the tail rise again. On his knees all he could do was try to protect himself. The third blow caught his other arm almost in the same place, this time its removal spun him about knocking him to his belly, blood pooling beneath his arms.
Barricade watched from the door with detached amusement. The human screamed and fought, failed and bled. Struggling to escape, the fourth strike caught him low in the back and the fifth pierced the flesh below his throat. Blood dribbled over the edge of the table staining the floor. Avoiding the growing puddle, Starscream inspected the drone's handiwork. While this method was unorthodox, it would allow them to utilize the All Spark in its current incarnation.
As Samuel writhed in pain, clutching his throat the Decepticons worked. Holding the teen down they wired a simple synaptic network into his nervous system. Heedless of the boy's wails, the Air Commander oversaw the insertion of accompanying neural access ports. Applied directly to the skin, the ports sealed and cauterized the oozing wounds. The scent of burnt flesh rose almost overpowering the smell of coagulating blood on the floor. The silvered ports glowed on the skin, before the remaining oxygenated fluids stained them red. The bright crimson liquid absorbed by the hot quicksilver resulting in a mixture of pinkish silver, their perfection and unsightly organic. The resulting set up, however crude and messy was an adequate solution, provided it worked.
"Barricade."
While there was no love lost between them, the cruiser was duty bound to at acknowledge the seeker's orders. Stalking forward, he inspected the barely conscious human. The soft flesh was coated in blood; it contrasted sharply with the sigils burnt into its skin. With the boy weak and helpless before him, Barricade had to repress the desire to end its life. Glancing to Starscream he casually informed him that he wasn't impressed.
"I don't care about that! I want you to test them out."
Flashing his optics at the seeker, the Decepticon finally submitted and did as he was told. With luck he could overload the system and terminate the human. Megatron wouldn't be pleased, but Starscream would indeed take the blame for this failure. It would be a good way to end the day. Extending his smallest data access jack into the first port set in the pale throat, he began exploring the human beneath him.