CWC: Hellos! I'm back early due to the overwhelming response to my first chappie.
Prowl: Yes, all four reviews.
CWC: shut it, Prowler, these guys are awesome. Anywho, I'm updating early! Hooray! Because exams are coming up soon so I won't get a chance to type much. So you guys get a chapter for free. As always I own Prowl-muse and Teresa, not transformers. Otherwise Jazz would never have died and Michael Bay would have vanished mysteriously long before now... :)
Chapter 2: Glitches and Witches
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Barricade's POV
The femme is crazy. The femme is crazy and she is going to die at the hands of the fools trying to 'steal' me. I watch apathetically as she speaks with the males. I only start to pay attention when she drops into a fighting stance and smiles insanely.
The shorter male rushes at her and, what had she said her designation was, Teresa, simply steps away from the blow, allowing him to stumble past her before slamming an elbow into his back. He falls to the ground and lays still as the older one drops into his own stance. The tall male attempts a punch, with Teresa dodges, and manages to block her kick in retaliation. The fight continues with him trying a punch to the stomach. Teresa blocks the punch but is unprepared for the follow up kick aimed at her gut. I scoff as she is pushed back several inches, but remains standing.
This human is strong, I give her that, but she is obviously inexperienced. She recovers quickly and attacks, landing a blow to the boy's own stomach before spinning to kick him in the shoulder, give him a right hook, and finishes up with an upper cut. The older male falls to the ground, his sunglasses flying off to break on the concrete parking lot a few feet away. Teresa stands over him, smirking.
"That was for messing with me," she says, and kicks the boy in between the legs. "And that," she hisses as the boy goes pale and moans in pain. "Is for messing with my car."
I rev my engine slightly, impressed, before I remember that I am supposed to be in disguise. Teresa just gives me a strange look before shrugging, giving the pair one last scornful look, and getting in.
"I can't believe it," she grumbles as she pulls out my key and pulls out of the parking lot, again turning on my radio and filling my interior with the sound of human instruments. It is uncomfortable not being in control, but she seems to know what she's doing.
"My first day out in my new car and some morons try to steal you!" I roll my eyes. This human is very strange: she fixes me, talks to me even though she thinks I am a normal human vehicle, and has the brute strength to win against two human males nearly twice her size. Ignoring the discomfort of being driven, I relax into the drive and listen to the girl babble. As soon as my internal systems heal, I will leave, but until then I am stuck with this odd femme.
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Teresa's POV
Still grumbling over those morons trying to car-nap Cade, I shoot through the narrow country roads at high speeds, Barricade's engine roaring loudly. Still angry, I smile as the song Monster by Skillet blasts through Cade's speakers. The deep bass thuds through the car and relaxes me as I calm down. I smirk suddenly.
"Oh well," I sigh slightly, letting go of the last of my anger. "Who could blame them for being tempted by such a hot car? Especially with the paint job I gave you." I smirk again and keep driving, now enjoying the clear blue sky and the powerful sound of the Cade's engine. I sigh in contentment before regretfully turning the wheel to go home.
Today was fun, but I have school tomorrow and work afterwards. Sleep is essential. When I got back, I parked Barricade downstairs, grabbed a quick sandwich, and settled on the couch to watch a little TV before heading to bed. 10:30 found me stumbling drowsily up to my bed with the evening news still playing on screen.
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Barricade's POV
Once my external sensors picked up the sound of the human snoring, I activated my holoform and opened the hood of my alt mode. While the exterior damage was completely repaired, I still had some repairs to be made to the more internal sensors.
The holoform, which looked like a human, began to work, repairing my communication centers, and fixing several other vital parts. I hesitated. If I was going to survive any amount of time at all, I would need to find a way of hiding my spark signature. My holoform walked over to the large counter, examining the tools and materials.
If I was careful with acquiring materials and which tools I used, I could build a transmitter to hide my energy signature without this femme's knowledge. Grasping a wrench and picking up a small circuit board, I got to work.
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Teresa's POV
*beep**beep**beep**bee-* my alarm clock was cut off mid-beep as I reached over and smacked it off my bedside table. Glancing at the time, I groan and move sluggishly to turn on the stereo before going to take a shower. After the warm water has woken me up a bit, I dress in a pair of khaki pants, a blue t-shirt with the words, 'Don't take life to seriously, no one makes it out alive,' on it, and my usual sneakers.
I slurp down a quick bowl of cereal before grabbing my book bag from the couch and heading downstairs, turning off the music as I go. A sharp slam of metal rang out as I cleared the staircase, causing me to look strangely to where Barricade was parked. It had sounded almost like his hood had slammed closed, but I hadn't opened his hood. I shrug. It wasn't like my life hadn't been strange enough already.
Tossing my bag into the passenger seat, I rev the engine and, smiling at the powerful sound, drive toward the torture chamber known as school, the radio blaring once more. Cade pulls into the crowded parking lot without trouble, avoiding getting scratched on the other cars as I head to my usual parking spot. I snarl, glaring at area.
A bright blue 2010 Nissan Micra is in my parking spot, though my growl is directed at the smirking blonde girl leaning on the hood. Her smirk changes to a look of shock as she takes in my new ride. Smiling sweetly at her, I pull into the spot directly behind her, revving Cade's engine one more time for good measure before grabbing my book bag and hopping out of the car.
I force the overly sugary smile to stay on my face as the angry blonde head of Kristen Barrows comes stomping towards me.
"What," she hisses. "Is that?"
"Oh, this," I say dumbly, motioning over my shoulder. "This is just my new car. I call him Barricade." Kristen snorts, calming down slightly.
"Barricade? You named your car?" I shrug.
"Why not? And technically, named he already was; on his license plate it was." I wince; there's my speech problem. I was wondering when that would show up. Kristen runs a critical eye over my car and scoffs.
"Well it's ugly as crap; those colors totally clash, and those lights are almost as much of an eyesore as you are," she says, smirking. We're both shocked when Cade's engine revs, almost angrily, before falling silent. Kristen looks slightly shaken but recovers quickly.
"It figures," she sneers. "You would drive a car that's ugly and glitchy, just like you." The engine revs again and Cade surges forward, knocking Kristen just enough to make her fall on her butt. She stands up quickly and, giving me one last look of disdain, flees to the relative safety of school.
I watch her go before looking at Barricade, swallowing my smile at seeing Kristen flat on her rear in the parking lot. I examine it closely, searching for any noticeable difference that would explain its odd behavior. My car looks the same today as it did last night and the day before. I smile slightly.
"Good job," I compliment him, speaking slowly to make sure I don't stutter any more. "That chick had it coming, calling you ugly and a glitch." I smile once more before grabbing my book bag from where I had tossed it to the sidewalk and heading toward the main school building, the sound of tires squealing away barely registering as I start worrying about schoolwork.
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No one's POV
Arcee raced out of the school parking lot, racing through the small town. The motorcycle femme made sure she was out of scanner range before contacting Optimus.
:: Prime! :: Arcee
:: Yes, Arcee, what is it? :: Prime
:: I've found Barricade! :: Arcee
:: Are you sure? I thought he went missing before the battle of Mission City. :: Prime
:: Well wherever he went, I've found the slagger again, hiding at a human high school. :: Arcee
:: Has he harmed any of the humans or revealed his presence? :: Prime
:: Not that I know of, though I did see a human femme talking to him. :: Arcee
:: You are not to engage unless he attacks a human; we do not want to reveal ourselves this way. I am sending Bumblebee and Ironhide as back up. Once they arrive you will capture him quietly and bring back to Diego Garcia for judgment. Optimus out. :: Prime
Arcee growled deep in her frame. That pit-spawned excuse for a fragger was running around a human school and there was nothing she could do about it. She wouldn't have even found him if she hadn't been assigned to patrol this part of the state after Prowl had landed nearby, and even then he would have gone unnoticed had she not happened to chose to observe the human school that day.
She had almost not recognized him with that strange paint job. Only the police lights on the dashboard and back of the car and the smallest trace of a Cybertronian energy signature on her scanners had convinced her that it was her old foe.
Arcee completed one circuit around the perimeter of the town and began another before resuming her usual patrol route through the town. Two questions just would not leave her processor.
What had Barricade, the brutal Decepticon, been doing at a human high school, and who was that human who had been talking to him?
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Barricade's POV
I was jolted out of my light recharge by an obnoxious ringing from the direction of the building that Teresa had called school. Human younglings immediately begin to pour out, some running for their cars, others walking more slowly and talking to other humans.
I spot Teresa coming toward me at a normal pace. She is only a few yards away when a group of females, led by the yellow-haired human femme from earlier, surrounds her.
"Well well, if it isn't the glitch," the leader sneers. I'm reminded unpleasantly of Starscream when he has something captured in his claws. Teresa sighs.
"You want what do you, Kristen," she says, her voice sputtering strangely.
"Oh, just wanted to hear your melodious voice, Glitch-girl," the femme says, sneering again. "We thought that you might like some help with the homework tonight," the blonde continues, twisting a clump of her hair around one finger. Teresa looks at her suspiciously.
"What homework are you talking about," she asks, speaking slowly and carefully.
"The homework for math, of course," Kristen says simply, smiling. "You'd need all the help you can get, since your brain glitches even more than your voice." Teresa's fists start shaking with barely suppressed rage.
"Kristen, back off you better I'll or," she begins.
"You'll what," the irritating femme challenges her. "What are you gonna do, hit me?" Teresa calms down slightly, and I can hear her grit her teeth from here.
"No, what happened the last time we both know," Kristen continues, imitating Teresa's sputtering speech. Teresa snarls and pushes her way through the group of giggling femmes towards me.
"Oh, and Glitch," Kristen calls out as Teresa opens my door and throws her large bag into my passenger seat. "Don't forget to do the English homework; the way you talk, it'll take you forever to get it done."
Snarling, Teresa slams my door hard enough to hurt. She revs my engine angrily and peels out of the lot fast enough to leave tire marks on the pavement. I stay silent and observe as Teresa begins to leak from her optics, and take control just enough to keep us from crashing. For the first time since I have come out of stasis, she does not turn on the radio.
Eventually she manages to drive me to a small store, parking me directly across from the doors before grabbing her bag and getting out, slamming my door again. I watch as she goes inside the store and is soon sitting behind a counter, writing on a piece of paper. I zoom in enough to read the heading. 'Algebra II: Radicals and Radical Equations.'
I sigh mentally and settle down on my axles, doing my best to ignore the humans all around me, resigned to another period of quiet as I wait for the femme to finish whatever she is doing.
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Teresa's POV
I yawned and finished up the last problem on the worksheet before sticking my work back into my book bag and glancing at the clock. Finally, quitting time.
"See ya tomorrow, boss," I call out to the manager before hopping in Barricade. My mind wanders to my homework, especially the English work, and from there to Kristen and her clique's words.
I'm startled out of my angry thoughts when my car jerks slightly before settling back in the middle of the lane. That's when I notice that I've been gritting my teeth, and my hands are holding the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles have turned white. Deliberately, I loosen my grip and turn on the radio, determined not to let that glitch of a girl ruin my good mood.
I smile when the stereo begins playing 'Mean Girls' by Sugarland. The strange coincidences continue as it's followed by 'Mean' by Taylor Swift, and I'm rocking out to the last tones of 'It's Not Me, It's you' by Skillet when I pull into my garage. The music therapy taking effect, I sigh happily before glancing at the clock and groaning.
Six o'clock has rolled around once again, and I know what that means. Regretfully I race upstairs, quickly changing into my workout clothes, which are grey sweatpants and a black tank top, grab my bag of equipment from a closet, and walk outside to my backyard, where I've set up a gym of sorts.
A short track, no more than a path of worn grass, follows the borders of the yard. The center is dedicated to weights retrieved from the bag, and an outside tree has a red target painted on it at about shoulder height. I start out by walking two laps, jogging three, and flat-out running five before working on my arms, lifting thirty pound weights for three sets of twenty.
I take a quick break in the form of practicing my hand stands and stretches and finish up with combat practice, which is code for pulling on a pair of thick gloves and punching and kicking the target tree.
This takes almost an hour and a half, and by the time I've finished my routine, packed up the weights, and taken a quick shower I am dead exhausted, despite it only being eight thirty at night. I do this every weekday after school to stay strong; otherwise I'd be a lump. I stumble around for another forty five minutes, puttering around in my workshop, cleaning up, and washing a load or two of clothes, before I realize that I'm being an idiot and go to bed.
I'm under the covers and staring at the ceiling when the truth that I've been ignoring all day comes crashing in on me, leaving me pale and scared. My car, my inanimate object, had turned itself on, not just today, but when it was being stolen, too, and even moved on its own. I take a deep breath.
'Okay, Teresa, get a grip,' I thought to myself. 'A car cannot turn itself on or move. It is impossible. Therefore, you must be imagining things.'
But you're not imagining things, a smaller voice said. There's no way we imagined Kristen falling on her butt in the parking lot.
'Okay, then maybe the car just has an electrical problem. Some wires, probably damaged in whatever had happened to Cade before, simply fell against one another the right way. The first time the boy could have caused it when he tried to pick the lock, and the second time with Kristen was just chance,' I told that voice firmly. 'Cars cannot just start themselves, let alone move. It is simply impossible.'
I shoved aside the whispering of the smaller voice in my head and rolled over, pressing my head deeper into my pillow. I fall asleep quickly.
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I wake up the next morning, smack my alarm clock, and head downstairs, determined to have a normal day. I dress in my favorite pair of khaki capris and a shirt with the slogan 'run like you stole something' emblazoned on the front. I slurp down some cereal before going to the basement and hopping in the waiting Mustang, pulling smoothly out of my garage and heading straight for school.
I turn on the radio and nearly drown out the engine by playing Toby Mac's Showstopper loud enough for the bass line to shake the windows. Pleased by the stronger crisp in the air and in a good mood from the music, I park at school in the same spot as yesterday and head inside. The day passes quickly, English blending smoothly with Math, Science, and Civics. The only intrusions on my good mood are the faked gasps of surprise when I turn in my completed English homework and the snide betting on how low my grade will be in Math class by Kristen and her crowd but I manage to ignore them enough to maintain my smile.
As the bell rings for the end of the day, I burst out of the doors at top speed, ready to get to work and then head home to relax. I've almost reached Cade when I stop and gasp, feeling like I've been punched in the gut.
Long, thin scratches run the length of my car, and pink permanent marker is doodled all over the lights, both on top of the car and the signal lights. Smaller scratches criss-cross almost every inch f the once pristine silver. The worst part is the word 'glitch' in huge letters scratched into the hood, the gray of the metal underneath standing out painfully from what remains of the sleek silver paint job.
Fury bubbles inside me as I realize at the same time who did this and the fact that there's not a thing I can do to get back at her. Taking a deep breath, I pull out my IPod, snapping a quick picture, and get in the car and drive slowly to work, not bothering to turn on the radio. I'm numb my entire shift, performing my duties mechanically, hardly able to take my eyes off of Cade and the ruined paint job.
As soon as I'm done I run out to Cade and drive home, once again ignoring the radio. Once back in the garage, I put Barricade back up on the ramps and begin covering everything in plastic again. A soft cloth dipped in warm water and soap cleans the sharpie off of the lights quick enough, but Kristen made sure that the scratches covered almost every inch of my car, making it impossible to salvage the old paint. I sigh. I'll have to completely repaint him, and I won't have time to do a fancy job like before, either.
I look Cade over again and growl, picking up a tool and flinging it against one wall of my garage with a crash. Fury fills me and I growl again, donning my painters garb and getting to work while my mind spins, reliving Kristen's last words to me that day in class.
"Just remember," she had said, her lips curled in that signature sneer of hers. "No matter what kind of car you have, I don't care if you have a Lamborghini, or even two, I will still be better than you." I concentrate on my painting, shutting out all sensations except the feel of the sprayer in my hand and the growing anger in my mind.
Almost too soon I'm finished, and I take a step back to admire my handy work. What was once flashy silver, red, and blue has been replaced by slick black, the only other color a bold red line that runs along the sides of the car. I sigh, tired now that the work is over, and look at my clock, groaning when I see the time. It is one thirty in the morning.
Grumbling, I set up a system to help dry the paint quicker and go to bed, not looking forward to being woken up in a few hours for school. I didn't even get to work out today, which I was going to pay for tomorrow afternoon. I march silently up to bed, resigned that tomorrow was going to be pure torture.
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CWC: Uh oh, I made Terry mad. What she gonna do?
Tune in next week for another exciting chapter of: I! Had! To! ASKKKKKKK!
(if you just thought/read that in a voice like a game show host, you must now review. For the reviews are delicious noms for the plot bunnies, and if you don't feed plot bunnies they try to eat your toes. Don't let the plot bunnies eat my toes: review!)
Edit: OMG, I'm so embarrassed. One kind reviewer by the name of colitis pointed out that I screwed up on the POV headings. O_O" SORRY! See you next chapter!