Autobot Prime, Decepticon Second and Third
Summary: Sometimes, Jazz is a Decepticon. Sometimes, Prowl is. In this case, both are former Decepticons of a particularly vicious reputation and they both somehow wind up right and left hands to their Prime. Meister... meet Barricade. Barricade, Meister.
Notes: After seeing various Decepticon ! Prowls and Decepticon!Jazzs where the romance is always cross factional, with one "good" and one "bad" mech. I decided that it would be interesting to work wrangle a pair of Prowl and Jazz defectors to the Autobot side in which they were BOTH former Decepticons.
-=A=-
Barricade's optics followed the obvious purple brands as the soldiers marched by.
When, he wondered, did this happen? Barricade had seen the Decepticon mark on several mechs outside of his unit, but few within it had one. to suddenly see nothing but brands wherever he turned was unnerving. The next mech with that brand that he saw, he would snare to question. Barricade didn't like having his unit associated with an organization without him catching wind of it in the slightest.
I might be a Military Enforcer instead of straight military, Barricade thought darkly, but I am still part of this unit.
He withdrew to his office and sank down into his chair, placing the most recent report on his desk.
Barricade frowned at a report that lay so innoxiously on the corner of his desk. It was entirely unmarked, lacking even customary manufacturing marks. He slid it closer, scrutinizing it carefully. He turned it on after making sure it had no networking capabilities.
The old fashioned data pad's screen lit up and the name written at the top of the document had him frowning even more deeply. Barricade drew a stylus out of subspace and scrolled through the text, agitation growing with each word he read.
As soon as he finished reading he slammed the pad back down and shut it off. Barricade growled angrily. This orn was not a good one, and it looked as if it was only going to get worse. He shuttered his optics and cycled his cooling fans in resignation, trying to bleed off the heat from his anger.
Decepticons one and all, then, Barricade thought, restraining his rage with steely will. Decepticon or not, he growled, they are my mechs, and they are my unit.
Barricade switched the pad back on, signed it with angry strokes, and sent the encrypted reply back from whence it came. As soon as the deed was done, he crushed the data pad in his claws with a snarl in a flash of temper.
Letting the shards of metal and sparking wiring fall through his fingers and clatter to the surface of his desk, he watched with dispassionate optics. "Do your worst," he intoned flatly to the emptiness of his office, "I will stand."
-=A=-
Barricade hissed as he ordered his mechs to fall back. This was a foolhardy stunt of a mission from the beginning, but his direct superiors weren't listening to him. Barricade hated idiots in position of authority with a passion that burned coldly.
The ignominy grated on a tactician sparked and programmed.
Decepticons only listened to his plans so much as they could imagine that they came up with them themselves and Barricade was reduced to prowling behind the lines and slitting energon lines of sleeping mechs. Barricade made a good assassin but it was not what he was made to do.
As the war began in earnest, Barricade felt himself only grow colder.
-=A=-
Meister clenched his hands into fists as he muted his vocalizer so that he couldn't say the scathing insults more than ready to fly in the face of his handler. Diamondclaw wouldn't be amused in the slightest, the fragger. He had no choice but of work for the slaggers who had brought about the death of his creator when they had taken Polyhex.
He only tuned in when Diamondclaw stopped talking at him and dismissed him. When his handler's back was turned to him and disappearing down the hall, Meister allowed himself to snarl soundlessly after him.
Meister forced himself to relax.
He wouldn't, he couldn't kill Diamondclaw. Not yet. No matter how much it burned at him.
Glancing at the data and holographic image, Meister took in the appearance of the mech he was going to look like for the next several vorns. He was going to be the angry, vengeance hunting, Autobot Slicer. A "great way to sort the gem stones from the silica" Diamondclaw had said. Meister growled. Angry and hungry for vengeance?
He could do that.
-=A=-
Barricade remained as silent as he was capable of being as he dodged an Autobot patrol as they rushed past. Why is it, he demanded of no one, that when I want to kill an Autobot by sneaking into their bases, I have no problems...
Barricade dashed left, darted right, transformed into his alt mode to squeeze through a tight spot and back so that he could shimmy down an unattended maintenance shaft.
...yet when I come without harmful intentions in mind, everything is suddenly infinitely more difficult?
Once he reached the bottom of the shaft, he froze in place. The chaos of the battle outside would in no way guarantee his safety. He scanned his surroundings as covertly as possible for cameras and sensor trips.
When there were no sign of any, Barricade prowled forward, trailing his claws along the walls, feeling for an access panel. There was a snag and he pried the panel open. He ran his fingers over the revealed components blind, Got it.
He fed a data wire into the mess of wires, feeling the pulses running through the insulated strands for the one he needed. Where are youﾅ Ah! There!
Barricade scratched off some insulation and jammed in the tip of his tap into the exposed wire. Immediately he began infiltrating the data net, cracking the multiple levels of encryptions through brute force in mere instants. He didn't need finesse at the moment, what he needed was speed.
...And he was through.
Where are you hiding, Optimus Prime?
Silver Moon stared at the tap, anger that had subsided over the vorns suddenly beginning to reemerge. How dare they? Slowly his claws closed, crushing the deactivated device. How dare they? A haze of white covered his optics as his entire frame shook with pure unadulterated rage. How dare they?
"Damn you, Diamondclaw," Silver Moon said lowly, voice frozen, "Your death was mine."
"Hey, Silver!" one of his "comrades" called out, "What're you doing all the way over there?"
Silver Moon took a moment to draw on the appearance of calm before he called back, "I'm thinking, Rattle, I know that it's a foreign idea to you but please get with the program here!"
"Suck slag, Silver!" Rattle shouted back.
The mech's face twisted. I think I already have, Rattle. I think that I already have. That's the problem, dammit. "Oh frag you, Rattle-trap! Go bother some other mech!"
"Shut the Pit up! Both of you! Now!" Pen barked.