CWC: Hello ever-faithful readers! And you must be faithful if you've stuck around this long. Thanks once again for reading, and I thank you for all your support, even when I am horribly slow on the updates. Hopefully you like this chapter, so review and let me know what you think! In the words of Jonathan Cozart, share the love, spread it like a fatal disease!
Prowl-Muse: (Walks in just in time to hear that last remark and crashes on the spot.)
CWC: Whoops. Oh well. (Pulls out sharpie and begins to doodle on Prowl's face.) Review and you get to draw on prowl-car! REVIEW!
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Chapter 10: Stories and their effects
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The sun is just rising as I pull off the road and into a small gas station. I can feel the small jolt that runs through Barricade when he wakes up as I open the lid to his gas tank, and his slightly rumpled holoform joins me as I begin to fill up the Mustang. He's stiff, staring off in the direction we've come from, and doesn't even comment on how despicable the gasoline tastes.
"What's up," I ask quietly as I finish and put the nozzle back on the pump.
"They're coming," Barricade answers just as quietly, one hand drifting to clutch at his chest over where his heart would be. He jumps when I pat him on the shoulder, and glares. I chuckle.
"Come on; let's get some food while we're here." Gesturing to the McDonald's attached to the gas station, I'm rewarded by an exasperated huff. Cade doesn't even bother putting his holoform in the car, allowing it to dissolve as I get in the driver's seat and pull forward into a parking space. The black haired young man reappears as I enter the store, purse over one shoulder, taking up a position just behind my right shoulder.
"How far off are they," I ask as a young man in a wheelchair with short brown hair and glasses orders.
"Back where we left the Autobot," Barricade grumbles, eyes darting all over the place underneath his thick sunglasses.
"Will they be able to find us?" It's my turn and I order breakfast, enough for both of us, and wait for the answer when I'm finished.
"No," he says. "I have a device to hide my signature. So long as I keep it activated, nobot will detect us until we are ten feet from them."
"Then stop worrying," I state calmly, taking the food and leading the disguise Decepticon over to an empty table. "We did a good thing, so there's no need to worry about the moral aspect of this, the Autobots no doubt deleted the email as soon as they were done with it, and there is no way to trace the message back to the two of us in the first place. Relax; we have no more to worry about than we did before."
The tension gradually leaves the holoform's shoulders, and I smirk as Barry reaches forward and claims his half of the food, munching quietly. I can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he thinks, examining every aspect of the situation. By the time we're done eating he's back to normal, scowling at every human that passes us and growling at those who get too close to his real body. I roll my eyes.
"So how do you know so much about field medicine," I ask, hoping to distract him from any thoughts of murdering the innocent bystanders.
"In in the Decepticons, most of the time it was better to take care of yourself than go to a medic." The response is quiet, drained of most of his usual bravado, and I wince. Great job, moron, bring up bad memories. Think, how to distract him, how to distract him…
"Skittles taste like rainbows," I say seriously, and nearly bust a gut at the incredulous look on his face. His eyes dim for a moment as he looks up the definitions, but his confusion only grows.
"How can a product made mostly of sucrose have a taste similar to that of light reflecting off of water vapor?"
"Because Batman," I reply as if it was perfectly logical, returning to my food.
"Because Batman," Barry repeats skeptically.
"Yes, George, because Batman," I say, and grimace at my slip.
"Who is George," Cade asks.
"Nobody." Suddenly not hungry, I grab the trash and toss it, heading out to the Mustang soon after.
"Femme, who is George," Barricade growls as soon as I sit in the driver's seat. I ignore him as I set back out onto the road, speeding southward. Or at least I was trying to when Barry takes control and pulls off onto a small side road before stopping completely. The door opens and I'm nearly catapulted out as the former Decepticon transforms. I try to keep my face straight as I'm grasped in a huge metallic hand and lifted to meet Barricade eye-to-optic.
"Femme," he growls warningly.
"What," I grumble, folding my arms and not meeting his eyes.
"Who is George, and why did you refer to me as him," he asks, tone not giving me a choice to refuse. I mumble something under my breath. "What was that?"
"He was my older brother," I say it louder, looking up to glare at him. Barricade blinks, confused.
"What about him makes you so distressed?" This time the question is asked more quietly, almost cautiously.
"He's dead," I reply, stomping down the sadness saying it brings up. Air rushes out from whatever Cybertronians use for lungs as Cade sighs, and then he place me back on the ground, transforms, and pops open his driver side door. I get in without a word, and we don't speak for the rest of the day. That night I dream of cold and wet, pain and dark, noise and silence, love replaced by earth-shaking abandonment. It is not pleasant.
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Further north, a red and white hummer with the common medical symbol on its side tears down the narrow mountain roads, two Lamborghinis, one cherry red and the other a bright yellow, and a Chevrolet Jolt on its tail.
:: How much further? :: the red Lambo broadcasts, voice tense.
:: Not much. :: Ratchet responds, the sensors on his Hummer alt-mode stretched to their limit as he attempts to get an accurate reading on their missing comrade.
Reaching the site of the accident, the medic scans for human life before transforming and rushing to his patient. The other three mechs transform as well, optics wide as they stare in horror at the mangled form of the normally cheery saboteur. A stream of Cybertronian curses flows from Ratchet's mouth as he retrieves his tools from subspace and sets to work, flipping the Porsche on its side and revealing the bright blue energon-stained snow underneath. Jolt moves to assist, his own medical tools appearing as he helps his mentor save Jazz's life. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, realizing that they are staring blankly at the scene, turn and scan the area, standing guard while the two medics are focused on their work. Snow begins to fall, and finally a groaning from Jazz alerts everyone to his awakening. With painful screeches and a worrying amount of effort, the Porsche transforms into their battered spy.
His visor is cracked, dim on one side, and his left helm-prong has broken off, leaving a stub. The armor on Jazz's arms and chest is dented and twisted up in some parts, revealing the delicate circuitry beneath, and branches from the trees he had crashed into almost three days ago poke from between seams in his armor.
"What's up, mechs," he says wearily, trying to crack one of his signature easy grins only to wince in pain. Ratchet scowls down at his patient even as Jolt moves back in, picking branches gently out of Jazz's shell and welding small seams back into place.
"You crashed into a tree and got yourself slagged halfway from here to the Pit, that's what's up," he responds, growling. Jazz waves him off with one black hand, stopping when he notices that two of his digits are dangling, limp and unresponsive.
"No big deal. I'll be back on the road in a week," the saboteur smiles up at the medic, seemingly oblivious to his old friend's rising coolant pressure. Snarling several more curses, Ratchet pulls out a cord from his wrist and, flipping up a similar hatch on Jazz's arm, plugs it in.
"That should dull the pain. I'm going to contact Prime and have him bring his trailer to haul your sorry aft back to base, where you WILL be in Medbay for considerably more than a week." The cord is disconnected and Jazz begins to smile woozily.
"Sure, Ratch, whatever ya say. Jus' make sure Prime gets this file, would ya?" Ratchet glares at the saboteur as he drifts into stasis before examining what he had received from the saboteur. It's a video file, about ten earth minutes long.
The medic does nothing more than scan it for viruses, on reflex, before sending it on to Prime, along with his own message to get his trailered aft to his position as soon as possible. That done, the Chief Medical Officer of the Autobot forces kneels in the snow next to his blue apprentice and returns to work, trying to save the mech in front of him from meeting Primus anytime soon.
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Back at the Autobot Headquarters, Optimus Prime stands at an extremely over-sized desk, facing his Second in Command and Security Officer.
"Have you heard anything from Ratchet," Prowl asks, doorwings flicking up and down slightly in his agitation. Prime, about to answer a negative, pauses as a message flashes onto his HUD.
"Actually, yes," he replies, opening the alert. Reading it, he frowns, and retrieves the attached video file. Prowl and Ironhide stand silently as their leader's face morphs from resignation to shock, blue optics widening with surprise.
"What is it," Ironhide rumbles, crossing black arms over his wide chest.
"This," Prime says simply, sending a copy of the video to both mechs. Ironhide frowns and opens the video, viewing it with growing amazement. The scene is an empty road in the middle of the night, snowy forests all around as the stars twinkle coldly in the sky.
Suddenly all is chaos as the video maker takes a curve too fast and is thrown into the forest, plowing through snow and trees until they come to a stop leaning against a broken tree. The camera switches positions, displaying the view from the back of the car. Time passes, hours, according to the time stamp flickering in the corner of the recording, until there is movement.
Ironhide stiffens unconsciously as the grill of a black Mustang with red stripes down the sides comes into view, headlights nearly blinding through the camera. His jaw then drops as the driver's door opens and a rumpled human female steps out.
She's young, an adolescent, with tangled brown hair wearing a bright blue-green sweatshirt and jeans. Cautiously, the human paces forward, the Mustang moving slowly up behind her. Suddenly the girl's eyes widen and she rushes forward, frantically examining the snow around the car and pressing her face against the glass protecting the camera. As she does, a holoform appears behind her, pressing one hand to the humans' shoulder. The femmeling jumps and spins to face the holoform, scowling. The mech in the video ignores it.
"Your core temperature is dropping. You should get back inside," the form states, and Ironhide's eyes narrow. What is the mech playing at? She's just a human; if he wanted her to get inside, he could simply force her. Why was he even concerned about the human's welfare in the first place? The black Autobot's thoughts are interrupted when another voice comes from the video. It is much weaker than that of the holoform, or the human.
"Wait…" Hearing the small sound, the girl moves towards it, and Ironhide sees the sleeve of her blue coat catch on something just out of the camera's view. She glances at it, and her reaction is instantaneous; the blood drains from her face and her dark eyes widen. Moving more cautiously, she goes to the sound, and the camera shift views so that all three mechs watching can see the injured holoform of Jazz lying in the snow as he attempts to communicate with the two figures. The Autobot holoform smiles weakly.
"What's cracking little glitches," is all Jazz manages to say before he goes into stasis, the light from behind his visor going out. Ironhide's engine whirls worriedly. What would they do to the saboteur?
"Crap!" He vents in relief as the girl leaps for the holoform, hurriedly examining it, but his eyes are drawn to the other holoform. It's sunglasses have slipped down, revealing bright red eyes widen with fear and worry before the holo dissolves.
The sound of transforming is distinctive even through the video, and Ironhide watches in horror as the car transforms into a Decepticon, who promptly grabs the human around the middle and back away, the camera shifting to follow it. His engine revving angrily, Ironhide can only watch as the Con holds the girl in his spiky hand, red optics shining and weapons spinning dangerously in one hand.
"Wait, old friend, and observe," Optimus' voice breaks through to the weapons specialist, who grunts and retracts the cannon that has replaced one of his hands, not even having thought about transforming. Redirecting his attention to the recording, his jaw drops as the human merely sighs.
"What the heck are you doing," she demands, rapping on the Decepticon's metal knuckles with a closed fist. The mech's optics flicker briefly to the girl before refocusing on the camera, and Ironhide is shocked to see that his position is not offensive, but defensive, holding the girl slightly behind him and close to the ground and the weapon between the Autobot and the human, ready to release the femmeling and attack if necessary.
"Let me down," the girl orders, and Ironhide stiffens. How would the Con react?
"Not on your life, squishy." The weapons specialist can only watch in awe as the human girl talks the Decepticon out of his defensive position and into setting her down, and then running a medical scan over the prone form of the Autobot. His surprise grows when the Con explains almost gently to the human why it was impossible for her to assist Jazz. The femme stands in the snow, obviously comfortable turning her back on the huge mech, and bites her lip pensively, only for her eyes to light up a second later. She questions the Con about contacting the Autobots, and Ironhide's optics light up with surprise. When the mech, who she had called Cade, admits that he could hack their network, but not quickly and not without getting caught, the girl's expression turns thoughtful before she grins.
"You don't have to find their network, or even hack it. Just open up an internet window and I'll tell you what to do next. Quick! Transform!"
The mech, confused, complies, and the femme quickly jumps into the driver's seat. At this point the recording switches views again, showing the inside of the Mustang from a strange angle, seemingly near the floor and next to the console in between the two front seats. The femme asks for a screen, and Cade complies. The three mechs listen as the girl outlines her plan, rapidly typing up a message, and then hesitates, going back and changing a few of the 'trigger' words before sending it off. With one last look back at the wreck, the car starts to move, and the video ends. Ironhide blinks, focusing back on the present situation, and notes the slight frown on Prowl's face plates.
"What's up," he asks, and the SiC's frown deepens. "Something about the message…"
The Praxian's optics dim as he opens the file and projects it onto the wall of the office. "The final sentence seems rather odd," he explains, and the relevant sentence appears highlighted.
"'Even if you ignore every other word, please help,'" Ironhide recites, and understands what Prowl is saying.
"Watch this," Prowl states, focusing on the two blocks of trigger words at the top and bottom of the text and zooming in on them. "If we take away every other word in these two sections, another message is revealed," the tactician explains, banishing the unneeded words and showing the true meaning for the email to Prime and Ironhide.
Megatron, Offline, Starscream, leader, Barricade, Neutral. Starscream, Glitch-head, Barricade Neutral, Optimus Prime, Autobot, Megatron, Decepticon, Spark-chamber, Offline, Recharge, Neutral.
Prime's optics widen as he absorbs the meaning of the message. "It is repeated in the bottom segment," Prowl adds unnecessarily, and Optimus leans back against the wall, putting one servo to his helm.
"Megatron is offline, Starscream is the leader of the Decepticons, and, if this message is to be believed, Barricade, arguably one of the best spies they have outside of Soundwave and his cassettes, is now a Neutral," the leader states with a deep sigh, rubbing at his nose plates in an attempt to lessen his sudden processor ache, a motion he had picked up from his human comrades.
"What are we going to do," Prowl asks seriously, blue optics clear and focused. Optimus looks at the smaller bot with a weary expression.
"We do what we have been doing. Regardless of his change of faction, Barricade has kidnapped a human and must be brought in for questioning. When he is brought in and we have discovered the truth of the situation, then we will be able to make a better decision. For now, we continue pursuing them, and consult with Jazz about how long he has been on the trail of these two. I am going to assist Ratchet in transporting Jazz back to base. I will return within the week, and this plan will be put into action once I get back."
Prowl nods and, turning on his heel strut, walks briskly out of the office, no doubt going to arrange things for the inevitable mech-hunt for the Decepticon-turned-Neutral. Ironhide remains in Prime's office, staring at the red and blue mech as he collapses into a chair with another heavy sigh.
"What're we really gonna do, Prime," Ironhide grumbles, his Southern accent making a strong appearance.
"We will do the best we can, and hope it is the right think," Optimus responds, and a small smirk appears on the weapons specialist's face.
"Darn right we will, and maybe if we're lucky we'll get to kick some Decepticon aft while we're at it," he says firmly, drawing a smile out of his commanding officer.
"Go pester Chromia," Prime orders lightly. Ironhide grins and leaves with a chuckle, passing an elegant pink and white femme on his way out.
"Elita," he nods a greeting. "Ironhide. Chromia just comm.'d. me saying she's waiting for you in your quarters," the femme commander informs him, her eyes wandering to the tired form of her sparkmate. Ironhide puts one huge hand on her shoulder.
"He'll be fine; just you wait," he reassures the femme, and receives a gentle smile in return.
"Thank you, Ironhide. We'll meet you for energon as soon as he gets back from helping Ratchet." Ironhide grunts an acknowledgment before leaving, the door closing as Elita-One goes to help her sparkmate, Optimus Prime, through another tough decision.
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