CWC: Hello! I'm back peoples! Many thanks to the wonderful colitas, ForgotMyName2Day, IronEclipse, BeastRage the Hunter, Anara the Hunter, and FanfictionLover1 for the awesome reviews! You keep my toes intact.
So here's the next chappie, but fair warning: the next update may be slow due to me having finals in ten days.
Prowl-Muse: Which you should be studying for right now...
CWC: Shut it, Prowler, I got bored.
Prowl-Muse: Fine, as long as you continue studying directly after this.
CWC: (rolls eyes) sure Prowler, whatever you say. (mutters) I'm so glad I made you human-sized
Prowl-Muse: What was that?
CWC: Nothing!
XXXXXXXXXX
Chapter 3: Revenge is a dish best served frizzy
XXXXXXXXXX
No one's POV
Arcee was parked for the night just outside the city limits, just about to slip into recharge, when she received a comm. from Prime.
:: Prime to Arcee. :: Prime
:: I'm here, sir. :: Arcee
:: There have been some issues with transportation. Bumblebee is unavailable. Jazz and Ironhide will be there as soon as possible. Has Barricade made a move? :: Prime
:: No, but something… strange happened. :: Arcee
:: Strange? :: Prime
:: I was able to observe him from a distance. He allowed a human girl to drive him to school, and while he was in the parking lot a group of younglings approached him. They scratched his paint job, marked on his lights, and wrote 'glitch' on the hood of his alt mode. :: Arcee
:: Are any of the children still alive? :: Prime
:: All of them, sir; Barricade, though provoked, did not attack the humans. He did not even transform. When the femme he allowed to drive him came out, she reacted with shock and anger before driving him to her work place. I lost track of him after the store. :: Arcee
There is stunned silence from the other end of the comm. link.
:: He did not attack the humans? He did not even transform? :: Prime
:: Affirmative. :: Arcee
:: That is…unexpected news, but not entirely unwelcome. :: Prime
:: Sir? :: Arcee
:: The plan remains the same, Arcee. Observe and wait for reinforcements. If he makes a dangerous move against the humans, intervene, but only if you must. :: Prime
:: Yes sir. Arcee out. :: Arcee
The comm. is dropped, leaving the two-wheeled transformer alone in the night with her thoughts and more questions than answers.
XXXXXXXXXX
Teresa's POV
Kristen's face when she sees Cade's new paint job is immensely satisfying. She splutters much like I do and says indignantly, "That's impossible! How did you find a professional to repaint that junk heap of a car so quickly?!" I smile.
"What do you mean professional," I ask innocently. "I do all my own paint jobs."
Kristen just squawks and leads her group inside. I pretend to follow, but, once she's inside, hurriedly take a packet of tools from my purse and pop the hood of her car. A few wires here, and twist there, and I'm headed back inside. Dad would be proud. The first two classes pass quickly, and I race outside to get a good view.
Kristen always brags about how she only eats lunch off campus, and, as she struts towards her blue Micra, I take a seat a short distance away and pull out my IPod touch, setting it to record the whole thing.
Kristen sticks the key in the lock and immediately lets go, yelping as an electric current causes her hair to frizz like she just stuck her hand in a light socket. After a minute she tentatively touches the handle again and, when she isn't shocked, opens the door and gets in. She jumps out again with a yelp as soon as her butt touches the super heated seat warmer. Mad now, she reaches around to the back seat and retrieves a blanket, sitting on that instead of the seat. She attempts to start the car, and covers her ears as everything goes haywire; the alarm goes off, the headlights flicker, her seat begins jerking back and forth, and the radio blares out a rap station, cursing every other word.
By now everyone is staring at Kristen as she jumps out of the rampaging car and yells obscenities at it, kicking the tires. Finally she takes the keys out of the car and retreats to the lunch room.
And I've seen it all, safe behind the glass windows of the cafeteria with my new most prized possession; my IPod containing video footage of Kristen throwing a major hissy fit. The teacher on lunch room duty, as well as the rest of the students, watches in slight shock and horror as the furious blonde marches over to where I'm sitting, quietly eating a hamburger and French fries.
"You," she says in a voice cold enough to freeze flames. "You did this!"
"Did what," I ask, as though bored.
"You screwed up my car," Kristen screeches, gesturing wildly with her arms. Shoving away my feelings of amusement, I look at her as if she just said the sky was purple.
"Me?"
"Yes, you, you glitch! You messed with my car, and you are going to pay," she yells, face getting redder and redder with each word. I keep my expression slightly confused.
"What on earth makes you think I did anything to your car," I ask calmly.
"Of course you did it, you sorry excuse for a robot, you just did it to get back at me, you petty glitch!" By now the teacher on duty has come over.
"Miss Barrows," she says sternly, clapping a hand on Kristen's shoulder. "That is quite enough. Report to the principal's office at once." Kristen shrieks in rage but seemingly knows better than to argue with a teacher, as she snarls at me one more time before storming off. The teacher gives me a polite nod, which I return, before returning to her former position.
Everyone slowly unfreezes as the rumor mill grinds to life, running double speed on the new fodder of Kristen's car catastrophe. I finish my own lunch and throw away my trash. My next class is about to start when the intercom calls me to the office where the principal is waiting for me.
Ms. Smith, a stern middle aged woman with bobbed brown hair and glasses, peers at me over their lenses as I enter her office.
"Miss Lash," she begins. "Miss Barrows claims that you tampered with her car as recompense for her accidentally scratching your car yesterday. Yet, your car is in pristine condition."
"If I may," I ask, pulling my IPod from my purse. At Ms. Smith's nod, I unlock it and navigate to my pictures of Cade's paintjob yesterday. Her expression does not change as I show her the pictures of the scratches, the only reaction a slight tightening of her mouth in the corners when I reach the picture of my hood.
"How were you able to get the paint repaired so quickly," she asks finally, eyeing me.
"I do all my own paint jobs, Ma'am," I respond confidently.
"Did you tamper with Miss Barrow's car," she asks.
"I did not touch the engine or other mechanical systems on the 2010 Nissan Micra belonging to Kristen," I say solemnly. "I just fiddled with the electronics," I add silently. Ms. Smith nods.
"A mechanic has been called for Miss Barrows," she states. "She will be punished for the damage to your own car."
"There is no need," I say smoothly. "What's done is done, and my paint is fixed anyway. I would appreciate it if it were simply forgotten." Ms. Smith looks at me oddly, but nods.
"Very well," she says. "You may return to class." I give her a small smile and leave. I pass my locker in the hall and pause for a minute, looking at the envelope sticking out of the top slot with my name on it. Frowning, I open it to see a typed note.
"Good job," it says. A picture falls out as well: Kristen, arms flailing, hair poufy, and eyes crazed as she rants at the malfunctioning car. I smile, and, sticking the picture in my pocket, continue to class.
XXXXXXXXXX
Barricade's POV
I watch in slight amusement as Teresa smiles and sings along with my radio on the way home from work. I had seen the show this afternoon with the femme's car, and approved. Maybe this squishy wasn't so bad after all. I continued to observe quietly using my sensors as she exercised and slipped into deep recharge.
Activating my holoform, I peer upstairs, listening to the deep rhythm of her breathing before moving toward the tool table and continuing work on the signal cloaking device. My processor wandered as I worked on the device, examining my options. I could finish the device and take to the road, maybe scan a new alt mode, and continue to hide from Decepticons and Autobots alike, on the run, or I could stay with this human, where I was kept warm, washed, entertained, and in good repair, at least for a while.
I muse as I work. I would have more freedom to move on my own, but I was far less likely to find safe places to recharge. I mentally scowl, memories of long lunar cycles spent recharging under overpasses coming to the front of my processor. On the other servo, if I stayed with the femme, I would likely be discovered sooner or later, at which point I could always just kill her and go back to plan B, get a new alt mode and drive. Pleased with my new plan, I do one last check on the signal dampener and install it, just in time for that irritating device the human has next to her berth to go off.
I hurriedly deactivate my holoform, surprised that it was the light cycle already, and waited for Teresa to come thundering down the stairs as usual. I was not disappointed, and she greeted me with a smile and a, "Good morning, Barricade." I repress a shudder as she opens my door and sits down, the routine beginning once again.
XXXXXXXXXX
Teresa's POV
I release a deep sigh and lean back, looking up at the stars. It's Thursday night, after my work out, and I'm standing on my balcony in my pajamas. Taking a bite from the pretzel rod that serves as a midnight snack, I hold it like a cigarette between my first two fingers. The stars twinkle coldly in the night sky through the boughs of the trees surrounding my house. My dad had loved nights like this, even though you couldn't always see the stars. Sometimes he would wake me up, and we would drive out into the country just to see a meteor shower. I pretend to take a pull from my pretzel-ette and smile when my breath becomes a smoky cloud in the chilled air. Chuckling softly, I try to blow a smoke ring, and, after a few failed attempts, glance once more at the stars before going inside. I head up to my bedroom and pause, frowning and listening carefully. Soft clanking is coming from the basement.
Moving quietly, I navigate my way through the darkened house down until I reach the bottom. The sounds stop as soon as I step onto the concrete floor. Frowning slightly, I look around the empty room and immediately go over to the counter. I examine its surface carefully. One of my wrenches has been moved, and a small array of soldering equipment is out of place. Scowling, I look around my workshop again.
The loose purple tank top and fuzzy pants I wear to bed shifts on my body as I do a thorough search of the basement, finding nobody. I huff quietly and, feeling more vulnerable than I have in a long time, retreat to my bedroom after retrieving a metal baseball bat from a closet and placing it beside my bed. Sleep doesn't come easily.
XXXXXXXXXX
CWC: Okay, sorry for the really short chappie, but the next one is going to be really long. Also starting next chapter I'm going to be putting in little hidden references to the G1 version of Transformers. They may not be in every chapter, but the first review to guess the reference gets an honorable mention.
Prowl-muse: Wonderful, now go study for your primitive science course.
CWC: Catch me if you can, Prowler! (runs away)
Prowl-muse: I hate that girl. (Transforms into a bumper-car version of his Datsun mode and races after CWC, barely keeping up)
CWC: REVIEW!