i am the patron saint of lost causes [complete]
Who: gabriel "sylar" gray & barricade
What: discovery & discussion.
Where: section five, then moving.
Summary: Barricade sees something interesting when he tries to relax. Said something has what one would call an insatiable curiosity.
Notes: This takes place before Mikaela's kidnapping.
couldbetheprez: Slums were the same in any world, it seemed. Robots, humans....it didn't seem to matter. When covered in their own filth and left to fend for themselves, they huddled in the same groups and picked on the weakest prey all the same. It was almost funny, how much these robots were like the people he knew. Good guys, bad guys. Gangs. Slums. It brought a smile to his lips.
It was strange, walking through these places where there were doors built twenty feet high with entrances for someone his size. Strange how, in attempt to not use his flight at the same time as any other power, he walked. It irritated him to not end to be looked down on, physically or otherwise, but in this case, he didn't have a choice. He couldn't die, true, but caution was key - he had no idea what these robots could do, and he'd already been told they were capable of the same spectrum of emotions as humans. He did not want to have his limbs torn off and place in corners of the city. That might be difficult to regenerate.
"Hey, meatsack!" A robotic voice behind him. It doesn't sound much taller than he is, maybe ten, twelve feet. Certainly not enough to fling his limbs from corner to corner.
"That's not very nice," he says, turning around, hands behind his back. "I have a name."
"What are you doing here, fleshbag?" The robot hisses, and Sylar feels the power in his fingertips. He glances over the robot, intently, seeking something out - how does this work. What does this piece, that piece, and this ---- yes. that one. Suddenly it's raging in him, that dark hunger. Even works for robots, he thinks, and smiles cruelly. "This isn't a place for weaklings like you."
"I don't think I'm as weak as you think I am," he says, and he barely resists the urge to lick his lips. It's all cogs and gears and electricity. Like a twelve-foot watch. It's so clear to him, how it works, but if he could find out a little more, then....
"Get out," the robot says, but Sylar laughs in his face and shakes his head.
"No," he replies, all hunger and focus, driven by that urge. Lightening arcs from his hand, blue bolts striking the robot square in the chest, skittering over the exposed pieces of metal and wiring. The robot screams, screeches, and there's the sound of circuits breaking and burnt metal. It makes him hungrier, and he arcs a second bolt. But the robot's ready this time, and he follows the bolt towards Sylar, effortlessly slamming him into a wall.
Ow, yes, it hurts, but he stops shooting bolts when he gets dizzy as his bones and flesh reknit. It's never fun, healing, but it's not as bad as shapeshifting. The questions are more important. Where does that strength come from? How do each one of those little gears in the fingers work? When his back feels right again, he spits blood and keeps smiling, and this time, lightening shoots from both hands - thousands of volts, straight to the chest, and even if the robot doesn't die, he fries enough wire to incapacitate it.
"Don't underestimate a little flesh and some genetic mutation, robot," he says, and he lifts himself up, landing in the creatures insides. it's like heaven in here. He lands, and slowly begins to pull cogs out, until he has a handful of things to study somewhere. Now, to find a somewhere to study.
reallybadcop: Barricade had found a place to rest, for now; a 'safe enough' section to shut down his higher processes and enter a light recharge cycle while relying on certain alarms to warn him of danger.
Danger wasn't what wakes him, though. It's a completely different set of data coming through his sensors, and his headlights brighten slightly as he becomes privy to...a rather interesting scene.
A human. But-not a human. No human can do that. Barricade watches intently as electricity flies from it to the unfortunate Transformer, the robot crumpling to the ground and promptly being...entered by the human. Well, not entered, but having certain parts removed. Interesting.
Very interesting.
Slowly, the Saleen Mustang approaches, lights on as to not startle the human. Wouldn't do to be on the receiving end of...whatever that was.
couldbetheprez: If he could, he'd drag the entire thing back to study the components. As is, this looks pretty central. Feels central, if the dulling of the itch in his mind and his fingers and behind his ears means anything. Whatever it is, though, it's foreign even to him. He knows how things work, but he doesn't know what things are. He knows what a gear is, and what a circuit board is, but these little symbols are gibberish to him. He curses to himself. If he wasn't struggling with being Taub and his mother he would have killed that brat Rebel and this would have been easier than easy. He doesn't notice the car at first, totally absorbed by the pieces, resting half-in the chest cavity he's created. Dizzy again. This is going to be a pain. He needs a place to stay.
A cop car? Wasn't here when he came. Doesn't look right enough to be a cop car. He lowers himself to the ground and arches an eyebrow at it, as if it will suddenly grow a mouth and start talking.
reallybadcop: Well, it doesn't form a mouth, but it does start to talk once it's clear that the human has seen him.
"You must be the first human that has impressed me," Barricade rumbles, voice low and, while speaking the english language - anything but human. "That was quite a show."
couldbetheprez: At that he does startle, taking a step back and dropping the board he was holding. Transform. Right. The girl, she said.... right.
A cop car. No wonder they keep themselves so well-hidden. People don't approach and investigate cop cars on a daily basis. It's clever. He likes it. "Thank you," he says, a dark grin on his face, still riding that psychological high destroying the robot's innards has given him. "I'm not your average human."
reallybadcop:"Obviously not. You're far more interesting." The car rolls a bit further forwards - not too close - before showing proof positive of his species and transforming. Panels slide apart, gears and servos twist, doors become arms and wheels slide up back past shoulders until a humanoid form stands where the police vehicle once was.
Four red optics gaze down at the human, and then at the body - and then, without so much as an 'excuse me', Barricade moves for the latter. Hey - if the human is salvaging for parts, he might as well see if there's anything useful, as well...
couldbetheprez: God, that's fascinating. Mesmerizing. Teasing him, almost. Look at all those little gears, intricate little workings in complete harmony. As if he never destroyed this first one, that pounding is back again; electricity crackles at his fingers, surging before he painfully suppresses it. It's one thing to go killing robot street rats. It's another thing to destroy something that turns into a police car. Sylar's never had that much respect for the police (mostly because they haven't learned that tasers don't work), but this is a little different. He makes an internal promises to that keening inside of him. Soon. We'll see something like that soon. Just wait.
It's enough to give him a headache. "Anything useful in there?" He asks. "I want to see how it works."
reallybadcop:"Come closer and I'll show you."
Still alive, but just barely. Well - Barricade never had any troubles fixing that sort of thing. He smiles coldly to himself, resting a clawed hand over the chest as he looks towards the human, curious to see what he'll do.
couldbetheprez: He takes several steps closer, staring straight up, his gaze fixated on those inner parts. A heart is so simple, just four chambers, but this is complex, gears and cogs and electricity surging. "I want to see," he breathes.
reallybadcop: Fascinating creature. And fascinated. Barricade's smile chills further as he taps his claw on the chest. It's a different build than him, but certain things seem to be the same.
Perhaps...he can walk the creature through this.
"The armor in the chest - in most mechs - covers and protects the fuel pump, the spark chamber, the primary engine and converters. Of course, it depends on the build...but this one appears to be a ground vehicle. Which means that if he's opened up further..."
Care to follow the lead, there? Since you obviously have power of your own...
couldbetheprez:"Would that expose everything? The robotic equivalents of heart and brain in the same place?"
It's about then when the hunger overrides the caution and the possibility of being exposed and basically everything else. Knowledge is intoxicating, always has been, and this is worse - the first time. Like Brian Davis all over again. Effortlessly, he lifts himself off the ground, hovering easily at Barricade's arm height.
reallybadcop:"Not quite. The cerebral processors are located in the head, usually." A tap to the unconscious mech's helm. "But...it will expose more than enough to kill them. I have yet to find a mold that can survive without a spark."
True - he's essentially telling the human how to kill him. But there's something to be said about risk; get enough of the human's attention, he might have just found a tool to use, here.
A rather versatile one, if its electrical and levitation abilities are any sign. Barricade gives the human a sideways look, studying him.’
couldbetheprez:"The same way humans are," he replies, studying the still form of the robot. "I suppose that makes sense, then." There's an unusual intent, bordering on obsession in his gaze as he looks over the mechanical corpse. He swallows, suddenly, and lands on Barricade's arm, balancing himself precariously. This limiter is getting annoying fast, and he'll either have to grow ten feet or learn how to suppress his hunger better if he doesn't want to keep nearly falling out of the sky. But that hungry stare returns, once he's found his balance. "Is he still alive? How can you tell?"
reallybadcop: Barricade glances at the human as he lands on his arm...and, after a moment's consideration, turns it slightly so that the panel is horizontal. Easier to stand upon. "He's still giving off energy readings - and his spark is still lit. Look," he says, pointing with his other hand at a break in the armor - where a small sphere of energy can just barely be seen. "There - that is his core."
The question is, the human's thirst for knowledge - is it the sort that is content to simply take in what is there, or will it search for more, the kind that breaks something for the pure simple fact that it is curious to find out what will happen?...
couldbetheprez: He performs a series of flighty hops down Barricade's arm and onto the mech, following that faintly glowing light. The Spark, like the Autobot had said. It looks like a soul. Breathtaking. It's like staring into the face of god. He considers, for a moment, using his much-stronger telekinesis to pull the front plates off, then reconsiders. His head's clearing, and as much as he knows he shouldn't berate himself for giving in, he does - but enough of that. "Can you pull the front plates off?" He asks, glancing over his shoulder and up to Barricade's face.
reallybadcop: That was certainly a good sign. Barricade's smile reappears as he reaches forwards, taking hold of the fried armor with both claws - and ripping down, the mech spasming and emitting a shriek as he's exposed. Not that he's in any position to fight, what with still being fried from Sylar's 'self-defense'.
Within - gears, servos, circuitry, and that spark chamber.
couldbetheprez: If Sylar's bothered by the shriek, he doesn't show it. He does, however, openly stare at the parts exposed. Christ, that's beautiful. It's like staring straight into a brain. Never fails to take his breath away, no matter how many times he does it. And this? This is all new. He's quite sure he could be here for days pulling this robot apart, looking at each piece, figuring out how and why and where. And the complexity. He could spend a hundred years and never come this close. For a watchmaker, used to working in such small scale, seeing something so big literally blows him away. And it's not just the hunger, no. He's pretty sure Claire and Noah and Elle would all stare, too.
"Incredible." He breathes.
reallybadcop: With the armor off, it's clear that there's a few differences between Barricade and the unfortunate victim - must be because of those different universes - but that hardly matters. He recognizes most of the parts, even though he's not a medic. The important parts, at least, though one of the converters he thought essential to function doesn't seem to be there...hn.
But still. The human seems to be quite fascinated. "Explore," the Decepticon encourages, voice like the purr of a well-kept engine.
couldbetheprez: Like he needs to be told twice. But there's a sudden, obvious problem, and then a second. First of all, it seems like he only has one set of clothes, right about now, and he has no desire to be getting them covered in oil and grease and not just because it might make alibis difficult; he just hates dirty clothes. Secondly...
"Is it safe to to swimming around the chest cavity of a robot in public?" He asks, although said cavity is nearly singing at him, like some kind of mechanical siren.
reallybadcop: -ah, yes. Humans aren't as well insulated against certain things as a Cybertronian, but if he can take /electricity/...
The question strikes him as odd, though, upon reconsideration. "In public?" Barricade repeats, tilting his head. "He's in no shape to care. And the nearest energy signature on my scanners is a fourth of a mile away."
couldbetheprez: That's a comforting thought. He does some mental math and, without hesitation, strips off both his jacket and shirt. The pants he can hide any stains on, as much as the boots - the oil has already covered his hands, and he'll just have to be careful about his his neck and face. He leaves the clothes on Barricade's arm and prays the robot doesn't oil them up himself something worse. A few more flight-hops has him nearly on top of those cogs and servos. It's certainly a far cry from watches, but that doesn't some it from absorbing his entire attention span.
reallybadcop: Barricade glances at the clothing on his arm, but doesn't make any effort to take them off. He's more interested in the human playing around in the mech's insides.
They really did come in all sorts of personalities - if that boy Witwicky was in this creature's place, no doubt he'd already been screaming for whatever reason. This one...so long as his fascination stayed on others, Barricade was inclined to humor his curiosity. As long as he received his own knowledge...
"You are human?" he asked, seeking confirmation. "With such abilities?"
couldbetheprez:"Evolved human," Sylar replied. "I'm human, just... special. Better than most."
reallybadcop: "Really. How did that happen?" Barricade leaned a bit closer, scanning the human. He was obviously in an agitated state, but other than that, he couldn't find anything different from an average human.
couldbetheprez: "Evolution, I suppose." His voice was distracted, though he paused at the how question. For all his talents, the intricacies of genetics had always been Mohinder's speciality. "The human genome is constantly changing, mutating, to become better. I don't know if, how, robots evolve - if you have some sort of robotic DNA -" The possibility of shifting into a twenty-foot-tall robot suddenly loomed, but he pushed it aside for the moment. "But humans are always changing. Some of these changes are just more obvious, better, worse, more advantageous - then others." He tugged, pulling a sprocket out and running his finger over the edge.
reallybadcop:"We are made," Barricade said simply, in response to how they were made. That was enough explanation as any. "So...this is part of your evolution?"
couldbetheprez: "Yes," he sat back in the cavity, which was slowly changing shape as he ruffled through the components at a remarkable speed. "I can see how things work. How all the pieces come together to create the whole. It's strange, because in this case I don't even know the base parts of this kind of machine. I fix watches and clocks by trade, and this is.. much larger." He chuckled to himself at the understatement. "There are people where I'm from who can freeze a surface, fly, shoot fire, breathe underwater....I guess the possibilities are endless, if I can be cliche."
reallybadcop: Very interesting. If the mech had any chance of surviving before...well, those chances were incredibly slim now, what with his parts being dislocated. And Barricade could only smirk at the human. "Intriguing. The only humans I've met have been...less than stellar examples of your species."
couldbetheprez: "There are a lot of less than stellar examples of my species." His voice was dry, and electricity flickered at his fingers at the though. Elle. Noah. Angela. "Unfortunately."
reallybadcop: "Indeed." And here Barricade intentionally slips some information, further testing the human to get an idea of just who and what he is. "One even went so far as to doom my own."
couldbetheprez: Hunger sated and mind cleared, he could see when he was being bated. He carefully stood up and returned to the work, more analytical than obsessive, talking as he did so. "That doesn't surprise me. Humanity doesn't have any respect for anything unlike itself. Humans routinely beat down other humans that root for another football team. The possibility that they would accept a twenty foot tall robot is, on a good day, unlikely, and, on a bad day, absolutely impossible."
reallybadcop: There was a change in him, that much was obvious - a subtle one, but a change. Barricade decided to play it safe. "We sought an artifact of great value," he said simply, "though...your species has your own history of war. You have an understanding of what it is like for brother to fight brother.”
couldbetheprez: He thinks, suddenly, of Nathan and Peter. Of them, and himself, and what he believed....it's enough to make a man get lost in his own thoughts, really. Watching Peter glare as he woke up, all of that. And yet those two came together again, and come together over and over. It's noble. Poetic.
"That kind of environment can't be a healthy one." He says after a while, tracing through all of that. And now, here he is and Nathan is so very dead, and he can just imagine Peter wracked in his own grief, maybe blowing up the city again.
reallybadcop: He does seem to know, then. "Perhaps not," Barricade allows, and leaves it at that - for now. There's something more pressing. "What is your designation?" It's a work of will not to add 'human' on the end. If he's *trying* to become a friend...
couldbetheprez:“Sylar," he answers. He considered, when he came here, being Gabriel. Sweet, innocent Gabriel. but it seems wrong now, not after what he went through his mother, Taub and Danko. The least he could do is show a little spine in the face of realizing who/what he is. "You robots don't have last names, do you?"
reallybadcop: Cue the tilt of his head. Last names. "...occasionally titles become part our names," Barricade says with a slight growl, thinking of one particular mech who hardly deserves said title or name, "But mine is Barricade."
couldbetheprez:"Barricade." he rolls it off his tongue. It has a good ring to it, one that he likes. "So, do you have... families of robots? Or is it just autobots and decepticons?
reallybadcop: He'd already heard about Autobots and Decepticons? Interesting. And was still talking with him...perhaps he'd heard from a Decepticon, then. Or didn't believe the Autobots. Or hadn't realized Barricade's faction. Either way.
"Some call other brothers," he explained, "As we are one species. And we may have partners. But our factions define us, for the most part."
couldbetheprez:“But, is your faction permanently built into you? I could change my clothes, move to another country, work on a new accent- " Get an entirely new face, but he doesn't add that, "But if someone were to take a sample of my blood, it would always be the same, and I could always be matched to my mother and my father. I don't mean to be intrusive...I"m just curious." He smiles a thin little smile at that.
reallybadcop: It is...a harmless enough question, Barricade supposes. "When the war began, we chose our sides," he says slowly, studying the human. "Defections have happened...but not very often." He smiles toothily - and it's not a nice smile, meant to convey what usually happens to those defectors. Whether by their new side, or their former allies...
couldbetheprez: "Right," He smiles at that, too, even though he sometimes thinks that in his war, there aren't really any sides anymore, besides his side and everyone else. And maybe Luke has destroyed that anyway. He wonders about the kid, a little, and discards that notion entirely. "Were more of you made during the war? How did you choose? Was it built into you?"
reallybadcop: "You ask a lot of questions, don't you?" Now that they're a bit more personal, Barricade finds himself a little reluctant to answer them. But...hn. He looks up, then back down at the human within the still-fading body...then runs a quick search of the body, searching and finding the ID bolt with credit information within. It will do for now, he supposes, ripping it off the chassis.
"I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours," he declares, slipping the bolt into a section of armor. "And not here."
couldbetheprez:"I like to know things," he answers, looking Barricade in the eye. Fascinating optical technology, probably far better than anything he's ever seen. The lenses themselves must be wonderfully smooth and arched. Better than the crystal in any watch. "And in a place where I know nothing, I think the most important thing to find out is what sides really mean. Good guys, bad guys...." He shrugs, laughs briefly. "Relative terms."
At that he pauses, eyes dark and thoughtful. It wouldn't be difficult to lie to this robot, but there is the possibility that he could sense those minor psychological changes that come with a lie, even one spoken flawlessly. At the same time, he's curious, almost achingly so. He watches as Barricade pulls something off the robot and slips it into what must be considered a pocket. "I have a long story," he says, in response. He smiles again though, darkly.
reallybadcop: Four optics, all locked upon Sylar. Yes, he thinks he likes this human...at least on first look. "Your species is short-lived compared to mine," he says simply. "Our concepts of time are relative as well." The offer still stands, and, well, if the human wants to know what it means to truly be a Decepticon...
Why not? Assuming Barricade can gather his own set of information. It's a fair trade, especially if he gains an element of trust in return.
couldbetheprez: Sylar tilts his head to the side as he finally removes himself from the innards of the (now very dead) robot. He is, indeed, covered in grease and oil like he expected, but it's good that his clothes weren't ruined. He'll have to find a place to shower and some WD-40, but the latter shouldn't be difficult, at least, considering this place's inhabitants.
couldbetheprez: Are you are a decepticon?" The question really isn't inquisitive, like he already knows the answer. "Because if you were, I'd ask why you haven't torn me from limb to limb yet. You even asked my name. After all, that's what an autobot told me." His tone is amused, smug, even edging on sarcasm.
reallybadcop: Barricade offers his arm forwards, and the clothes upon it. "I am," he confirms, smirking. "And contrary to what Autobots would have you believe, we're not single-minded killing machines." Just some of them - he had a few good friends that were. "The Autobots as of late have become far more brutal...even their Prime," the title spoken with no small amount of hatred, "has sins of his own to account for."
couldbetheprez: He hops back onto Barricade's arm, and after studying his clothes for a few moments, uses the jacket to wipe off as much grease as he can and then pulling the shirt on over his chest. He'll need to find something to clean a little better with, maybe mass quantities of turpentine. If he makes digging in robot chests a hobby, at least. "Not all of you at least, I"m sure," he laughs at that. Surely there are bad guys that are meant to be bad (there always are). "But maybe a few. And on the other wide is the same way. That's just how it is."
=The police car smiles again at that, amused by the human's humor. "Acute as well - you continue to impress me, hu-Sylar." He has a name now, after all, might as well use it. "Most humans were more inclined to accept the Autobot's words without question. A pity." It meant that they had to get their hands dirty going after the Allspark...which turned out to be a failure in the end.
Foul Autobots. And the human allies they made, hunting down his fellow Decepticons like animals. (To be fair, the ones that were found were fools who'd attracted far too much attention...)
couldbetheprez:"Those who call themselves 'the good guys' have spent the greater part of my recent existence trying to alternatively change who and what I am or putting taser rounds in my back. I think you can understand why my view of the world has changed. For the better, I think." He glances at the hole in his poor victim's chest, and his eyes glance up, to the robot's forehead. he won't here, he thinks, but later one, certainly. It makes him smile.
reallybadcop: "I can understand and appreciate it. Humans played a part in dooming my species, but were it not for the Autobots we would still have our home." Sure, he may still be planning to backstab Sylar at a later date - but for now, he could be very useful, and why get ahead of himself? Sylar appears to distrust the Autobots off the bat, and that could prove very useful, especially if he could be convinced to use those abilities of his on them. The thought of Bumblebee screaming in agony...
Barricade moves back, folding himself back down into his alternate mode. A door swings open, clear invitation for Sylar to enter. Sure, he's a bit dirty, but...it's a small price to pay.
couldbetheprez: Sylar pads his own fall and watches, fascination only a little dulled by his sated hunger. He takes the door in his hand but frowns at it. This doesn't seem smart - he doesn't want to be seen with decepticons, at least not yet, and there are easy ways to see through window tint. Not only that, but it seems like quite a jump in trust to sit inside a robot who has the same ideas as you - that tearing someone open for the sake of seeing how they work - is fine. he can only imagine what happens to this space if he were to transform again. He's not sure he wants to test the limits of regeneration by seeing if he can put himself back together from being a crushed pile of bones, organs and brain matter. To hide his face means he has to shapeshift in front of Barricade, and that's not a trick he wants to give up just yet.
He closes the door, then, studying the car. "I'll meet you," he says. "Where are you going?"
reallybadcop: He hasn't earned too much trust, then - well, it just means he'll have to work on it. Barricade starts to ping a set of coordinates before remembering that organics can hardly receive such transmissions, and makes a sound with his engine that could be a 'hrnnn'.
Probably shouldn't go too far, Sylar can't move very fast. So...he regards his maps. "A level above, there's a set of factories that purify energon - the northernmost is bordered by some housing units. I'll be near the middle of them. Can you make your way there?"
couldbetheprez:"Sure," he says and nods, glancing up above them. He's not sure how capable Nathan ever was of low-flight, and he doesn't have that much practice. That being said, he's pretty sure he can go way, way faster than Barricade suspects. Either way, it's not good to show all of one's cards... even one's half of cards. "I'll be there in a little bit," he smiles.
reallybadcop: "I'll meet you there, then," Barricade confirms before making to drive. He's not in a hurry, by any means, but he's not going to dawdle. Let the human walk and think about how much faster things could be if he'd taken Barricade up on his offer of a ride...
...though...wasn't he doing some floating, before?
couldbetheprez: He puts his hands in his jeans pocket and feels a little like some kind of mechanic, half-dirty with a ruined jacket and pants, grease barely smeared across his skin. He wonders, idly, if he can have a zit breakout with Claire's ability. It's never been a problem before - then again, he's always had a shower and never been covered in grease, even if it's just a shitty motel shower. He tilts his head to the side as he watches Barricade zoom off. How interesting. Sylar doesn't believe in coincidence, and the fact that these robots sound, act, and are built like humans and like human machines is too obvious for him to ignore.
Once he goes through all his thoughts and figures out what his plan is - find out more, really. He doesn't want to get involved, not yet. And keep a close eye on whether these fucking robots attempt to use you. He's tired of that shit. He lifts off the ground and tests out the power, more than he's been able to. It's more like a helicopter than a plane, and not looking at Nathan's brain means that he definitely needs some time to get a good grip on flight. Now's a good a time as ever.
*
reallybadcop: Barricade reached the area he spoke about before long, and settled down to wait. As he did, he considered what he'd learned so far: first and foremost being that the human Sylar? Was not half as much a fool as most of the others he'd encountered.
No, he'd been prodded for information just as surely as he'd prodded the other. True, it was harmless enough information, to Barricade at least - Sylar knew the basic workings of a Transformer, certainly enough to kill them, but Barricade was relatively confident that he could take care of the human if be became a threat. After all, the mech that they were over wasn't from Barricade's home, and there were multiple differences between the two. There were enough similarities, but Barricade hardly mentioned his built-in weaponry. A missile should be more than effective at stopping a threat, and he could be repaired. Organics had to take the time to heal.
At least this particular one more interested in knowledge then politics. Yes, he decided, he could share the war with him, at least its knowledge. He would of course like Sylar to come to the conclusion that the Autobots were pompous fools, perhaps much like his own 'good guys', but...
He'd have to wait and see.
couldbetheprez: He would have to test out the limits of flight, but here and now wasn't a good place for it. He would need space (a lot of space) and secrecy and time. And right now, he didn't have any of those things, just hunches and guesses and robot innards and a possible lead in Barricade. He knew well that this was a give-and-take relationship right now, and he hated giving and much preferred taking. Right now, though, he would deal. Until he knew a little more about what he was dealing with, about the much smaller picture, the picture he had always specialized in.
Luckily, there were ladders and elevators so he didn't have to fly. He didn't have to fly, so he could reach out with every other power he possessed. It was dangerous to read random objects, and so he avoided that, but he let his aptitude reach out. It gave him comfort even as he didn't know where he was, what his limits were anymore.
He found the living sections that Barricade had mentioned and looked up at them. Hmm. Mostly robot sized, yes, but he was unsure of which one exactly. It wasn't like there was going to be a cop car in the drive way. A bad guy being a police car. Ironic. Barricade must have known.
reallybadcop: True; there were no cop cars in the driveways. But there was one patrolling the area, well aware that Sylar can hardly lock in on his signature. Thus, it wasn't too long before said cop car might have been seen in his vision, slowly cruising the crosstreet ahead of him before pulling off to the side into an alley.
couldbetheprez: Huh. There it is. He follows idly, in that way that people can without making themselves stand out. It's strange. Even though there's an unmistakable feel about the man - confidence, maybe too much - combined with his notable features, he seems to be quite talented at slipping into a crowd. That's how he strides after Barricade, half invisible without seemingly doing anything except making himself feel normal.
reallybadcop: Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, Barricade transformed into his standard form once he was cloaked in shadow, and simply waited for Sylar to arrive. He glanced at the human as he did, studying him for a long moment...
"What do you want to know?" he asked bluntly.
couldbetheprez:"Everything," he said, and smiled.
reallybadcop: Really. Barricade arched an optic-ridge, and considered...
"The Autobot you spoke with. Did you get a name?" he asked, sounding more thoughtful than anything else. If it was one of 'his', then he'd know exactly where to start...
couldbetheprez:"Ironhide," he says dismissively. It isn't important to him who it was, really, especially the robot was so pathetically predictable. It's no surprise and finding such a character mildly annoys him more than anything else. He pauses, presses his lips together.
"And what do you want to know?"
reallybadcop: "Ah," Barricade said with a smirk. "Him. He was one of us, once, you know. Before the war started. As for what I want to know..."
He leaned forwards slightly. "Your abilities fascinate me. I would like to know more about what evolution has spawned them."
couldbetheprez: "He's boring," He says, brushing his hand away at the thought of Ironhide. "Predictable and manageable. Provided he has the rationalization for it, the feeling of that he is doing the right thing, he will protect his fragile morality. I worked with a man like him."
Oh, Danko. He puts the thought aside, thought, looking up at Barricade. "Some mutation in my genetic code. The barest changes to the smallest gene, and here I am....."
reallybadcop: “The most thinking he ever did for himself was to abandon us for Prime's foolishness. Other than that, whatever Prime says he will follow." The name/title is still touched by hatred; yes, Barricade has a grudge. Not in the least because his repairs are still fresh.
"Has this happened before, then, to your species? Spontaneous changes and then...you are as gods among your people?"
couldbetheprez: "How noble of him," Sylar's voice is dry. He's curious about what Barricade might or might not have against this Prime - though it's quite possible the hate simply comes from opposite sides. It's a question to ask at a later date, if nothing else. "It's been happening for the last forty years, maybe even before that. There are people who could turn lead to gold, heal with a touch. I can't... say how many have done this. But I know it happens."
reallybadcop: "Forty. And your species is young." If Barricade sounds impressed, it's because he is. But then, organics always did have a faster growth than those made of metal and steel - perhaps related to their short life spans. And frailty...evolve or die. "How many of you have expressed these power?"
couldbetheprez:"I don't know," He looks out into the alley, away from Barricade, voice distracted. "Thousands, maybe. Millions. there's no way to tell. A man I knew was working on an algorithm to track people with powers, though he was....constantly interrupted." A chuckle, at that. "I had that list, once. I lost it." He can't repress a snarl at the thought. Kirby Plaza leaves a bitter, bitter taste in his mouth, as well as that long trip back to New York. "I recently acquired a new list, though." His voice relaxes, eases, as he thinks of Building 26 and everything associated with it.
reallybadcop: "Millions - and there's billions of your species. Trillions." So an exceedingly small amount...but if these are small mutations, then perhaps logically so. It's something to think about...when nothing else comes to mind. Such as plotting death and torture to those who deserve it most.
couldbetheprez: "About six and a half billion, where I'm from," he adds. "But this isn't something that people...that most people, that normal people just announce to the world. Many try to hide their gifts, even though they've been blessed with them. Idiots."
reallybadcop: "If your species' past is any indicator, then they would find themselves in laboratories." He smirks a little. "Assuming they would let themselves be caught and experimented upon." If they can't defend themselves with their abilities, that's their own fault.
couldbetheprez: At that, he clenches a fist, growls in the back of his throat. Thinks of Elle, even, and himself, and all those other people in the Company. Everyone the Company hijacked. And then Pinehearst. And then building 26. Sickening, almost. "And that they did," he says, softly, hand coming up to his neck. "And continue to do, right now. After all, it's human nature to fear what you don't understand. To look for answers. Even if you know those answers could put you places that you don't want to be."
reallybadcop: Oh ho. He's struck a nerve. Barricade can't help but lean forwards a bit, optics focusing and zooming in on Sylar's neck. Something there, perhaps...?
"Yours is a cruel species," he observes quietly.
couldbetheprez: "A species that hardly needs your pity," He snaps. It's curious, but Sylar's neck is, regardless of what he does or says, shockingly smooth. If there was something there, it's not there anymore. "We do a fine job hurting and taking revenge on each other without robot involvement, I assure you."
8:51:14 PM reallybadcop: "What makes you think it has my pity?" Barricade's optic-ridges arch before he leans back. Nothing his sensors can find; he lets it pass. No use guessing, especially with such a small factor. "And you do. It'd be almost awe-worthy if not for the fact that our war has lasted since before your kind knew how to communicate."
couldbetheprez: "We still don't know how to communicate," he says, with cold, ironic smile. He puts his greasy jacket on anyway, wiping his hands on his pants as if that will somehow remove the rest of the grease that's on his hands. "Trust me, I know. A species of liars and cheats."
reallybadcop: If Barricade had any napkins, rest assured he would offer them to Sylar. As it is, he simply continues studying Sylar. "As I said - a cruel species. But at least some of you can admit it." He smirks a little - it's not a jibe at Sylar, more of humankind at general. If anything, to Sylar - it should be a compliment. You're far from pure, from what he's seen.
couldbetheprez: "Humanity is a race full of monsters. I am simply one out of many." He shrugs, looking at the crackling blue ball that's suddenly appeared in his hand. "I've simply learned to understand an accept that part of me. It's a shame that most people haven't, yet. They...cling to their believes, the sad structure that society tries to impress on them." he puts his hands in his greasy pockets, looking into whatever horizon this city presents to him. His voice is distant, whimsical, almost.
reallybadcop: ...powers indeed. Barricade immediately begins to scan the sphere of electricity, further plans forming within his processor. "Everyone is a monster, at least in some small part," he agrees. "The question is whether or not you learn to live with it." Or pretend it isn't there, like a certain Prime...
couldbetheprez: "It's good to find someone who you can agree with, even if that agreement happens with a twenty-foot tall robot." It draws that cool smile across his face again. "We're not very different, you know. In fact, it looks like humans and robots are...exactly the same. Except for our parts, at least. And in some cases, not even that. There are..millions of artificial hearts in people. pacemakers, fake knees...." He trails off, eyes focused on whatever piece of the robot is his eye-height - probably somewhere between his knee and hip.
reallybadcop: Barricade stands at approximately 18 feet, at full height; slightly slouched here, leaning against the alley wall, it's closer to hip than knee...though not by much. "So I've seen. I have had some time to study your species...I would find the similarities more interesting if not for...certain events."
couldbetheprez: "Certain events?" He doesn't even bother to try to hide his curiosity. It's bait, clean and simple. He'll take it, this time.
reallybadcop: It was bait - Sylar /had/ asked to learn more. This is as good an opportunity as any to segue into it, but he'll have to ask the right questions to learn specifics. Nonetheless...
"Remember what I said about a human dooming my species?"
couldbetheprez: He nods, lifting up off the ground to hover in front of Barricade. "I can understand why you wouldn't want to accept you're similar to someone who would do that," he says, slowly, as if there's some kind of test to pass for each word.
reallybadcop: After a moment of observing Sylar float, Barricade extends an arm. He often conversed with Frenzy perched on some part of him, and it seems a small enough allowance. And if it's not taken, as with the ride - the offer was made.
"I can accept the similarities. But treating the species as more than insects, and the particular boy the focus of revenge..."
couldbetheprez:: "A particular boy?" This offer he accepts, landing gently on Barricade. It's strange, standing on something that is, for all intents and purposes, alive. But it's nice to know that his spot for a power is open, that he doesn't have to worry about dropping out of the sky if something else becomes necessary.
reallybadcop: "Yes. I was tasked to find and interrogate him, but the Autobots intervened. To shorten a story...he got lucky." Red optics narrow. "Very lucky, to accomplish such a thing as the murder of my leader and the destruction of the Allspark. That which gave our species life," he elaborates a moment later.
couldbetheprez: Peter, he thinks, instantly, and finds himself torn somewhere between rolling his eyes, scowling, and grinning. He opts for a slight smirk, amused, but it disappears as he thinks hard about the matter, expression thoughtful as he looks past Barricade. "On his own?" He asks. "Or did he have help?" Peter always had help.
reallybadcop: "The Autobots assisted him. Though I think he surprised even them with the destruction of the Cube." He smirks a little, bitterly. "Since then, the Autobots and a group of humans have been systematically hunting my kind down."
couldbetheprez: "To keep everyone safe, I assume? It's too dangerous to let all of you wander around on your own. You might hurt someone." Danko. Nathan. Oh, the good guys. "But I bet they don't think that's monstrous at all. In the end, they're just doing what's right."
reallybadcop: "Of course. You continue to impress me." And it was true. "Never mind the fact that without the Allspark, our species days' are numbered. Never mind the fact that the humans had it for Vorns, that the Autobots knew of this, and still the boy destroy it to destroy Megatron. Stopping us is far more important," he finishes in a growl.
couldbetheprez: "Humans are arrogant," his smile remains, just on the bare fringes of a laugh. "They believe that the world is built for them, to fits their needs. It's only natural - human nature -" the words have a kind cruel sneer to them, "that some dumb kid annihilate your race for the sake of humanity. After all, he's only looking for his species. I can hardly blame him. The survival drive is one of the most primal parts of humanity."
reallybadcop: "I can, perhaps, allow your struggle for survival," Barricade muses. "It is stronger than Prime's, at least - if he hadn't launched the Allspark, then our planet would still be alive. And our species would still have a future. Instead, he considered one he had just encountered more worthy of life than our own - and he calls himself a leader."
couldbetheprez:: "I can't blame him. Humanity really is something. At risk of being offensive and racist," the way he says it, the smugness, his body language - he clearly doesn't care if he's racist or not, "there are a number of things we we have that you won't ever have. Evolution, for example. You can be as big and as tall as you want, but you won't ever change, will you? You won't have children slightly different, until, in a million years, they're totally different. Robots will still be .... robots."
reallybadcop: "And we will still be robots long after your planet and species are mere records in the history files." Is he trying to be snide? Hard to tell. It may just be tit-for-tat with Sylar's pride of his species that, as if now, Barricade has seen only one worth more than a token interest. (Aside from the ones to be used.)
couldbetheprez:: "So?" The word's flippant. "That doesn't mean anything. If you're the only robot in the world, the only creatures still alive... you have nothing. You possess nothing. In some ways, you're just as...." A pause, a smile. "insignificant and unimportant as if you were at the very bottom of some social ladder. You're a nobody. Because there's nobody to be."
reallybadcop: It seems Sylar's the one touching a nerve, now; Barricade brings the arm Sylar stands on closer to his face, growling softly. The noise isn't unlike a car engine...if the engine belonged to a large, many-fanged feline. And one that was close to deciding that the creature before it was worth more as a morsel than a conversationalist.
"You underestimate my species, Sylar."
couldbetheprez: Sensing the obvious danger in being that close to a machine this big with so many teeth - standing on it, even - Sylar's boots just gently lift off Barricade's arm. He's not going anywhere, really, and it's more of a sign than anything else. I'm aware of where we stand, the sign says. "Well," he continues, still wearing that casual, musing smile, "If all the planets are destroyed and all the biological creatures are extinct, what is left for you? Congratulations." He leans in, matches eyes with Barricade, looking unafraid despite the obvious disadvantages. He doesn't look afraid, sound, sense afraid - if anything, there's something exciting about being able to infuriate something so much bigger than you. "You rule exploding stars and remains and astroids. Your survivability has been quite helpful indeed."
reallybadcop: "We got along quite well without organics before," Barricade rumbles, holding his face at a distance that most sane humans - and mechs alike - would consider far, far too close. "As did the universe. Perhaps we will fade someday," he says, lowering his voice as he thinks of the Allspark's destruction, "But we will be remembered far longer than yours."
couldbetheprez: Most sane humans might be afraid, but Sylar just drops back onto Barricade's arm so he can stare into the tiniest little workings of Barricade's face, watching the optical devices zoom and refocus, the thousands of little servos that create his mouth work in conjunction. It's a stare, and there's something primal the stare, almost like he's trying to tear the decepticon's face apart with his eyes alone. "And we got along fine - oh, well, moderately - without robots, so I suppose that makes use even. As for being remembered....who can say."
reallybadcop: Barricade would be mildly more disturbed by the scrutiny were he not annoyed. As it is, He growls again, softer this time, before lowering his arm - slightly. "The ones where I come from stole much of their technology from my leader's form. And only time will tell who will burn themselves into the universe's memory."
couldbetheprez: He shrugs at that and tears his stare away from Barricade, glancing around at the empty alley they've been talking in. That was a dumb idea, he thinks to himself, because it's the one ability he can't exactly turn off at will. It's distracting, and that's the last thing he needs right now. Funny to think the ability he savors most could get him into so much trouble. He'll need more practice. More control. Hopefully something to test tearing himself away on.
reallybadcop: And now that that little argument is out of the way...
"Any further questions, Sylar?" he questions.
couldbetheprez:: "None worth asking," he replies, because he has so many questions, which all can essentially be summed into can i to dissect you. There's a pause, in which the hunger claws at the inside of his skull, and he whispers promises to it: soon, soon, he internally say, because there's plenty of things here that he can take apart to sate himself. When it calms itself down, though, he turns back to Barricade, a relatively friendly edge on his smile. "I'm glad we had this discussion."
reallybadcop: "Indeed." Barricade's manner has returned to pleasant - well, as pleasant as it had ever been. He lowers his arm again, this time to ease Sylar back to the ground. "Perhaps we will meet again, but until then, watch yourself. There are many here who would think of you as a threat."
And many of them who prefer to end threats as soon as possible...
couldbetheprez: At that, Sylar can't help but laugh. Someone consider him a threat? How could such a thing ever be possible? He's a perfect little angel, after all. he looks at his grease-smeared hands and tries to imagine how many people imagine dead routinely. "I've been a threat before."
reallybadcop: "Then I will take your survival as proof that you know how to act." In other words, that you don't need anyone watching your back. (Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, seeing as it would make Sylar owe him, but...)
couldbetheprez: "Mmm," He agrees noncommittally, because his survival isn't totally because he's very responsible with his powers (most of the time). It's pretty easy to stay alive when gunshot wounds and stabs heal up almost immediately. "And you will be throwing yourself into this war with gusto, picking fights with every autobot you see, or are you more subtle than that?" He stepped casually off Barricade's hand as he spoke.
reallybadcop: Deadpan stare. "I am not the stereotype the Autobots would have you believe about the Decepticons," Barricade drawls, his panels shifting again as he keys his transformation cog. Very shortly, the mustang is back, with hardly a sign that it was ever a robot in the first place...aside from the fact that it can still talk. "If I was, then I would have died in Mission City. I would prefer to get a better idea of what this place is before making my decision..."
couldbetheprez: He nods at that, running a hand over Barricade's hood. If he didn't know, he would never be able to tell the difference between this car and any of the other police cars that have chased him over the past couple of years. "Not a bad idea."
reallybadcop: "You are not the only one who knows how to survive when they're a threat," the Decepticon says with no small trace of amusement. Oh, how the Autobots would have loved to see him dead by now, not in the least because of his attempts on the boy and Bumblebee...
couldbetheprez: "I suppose not." Like Noah, he thinks. That little rat, Bennet. "This was very enlightening." He raps on the hood, once, sharply, and sticks his hands in his pocket. It's still there, lurking underneath his conscious mind, and he can feel it. It's not going to go away until he does something about it, so -- it's very important to find another robot close to his size to tear apart. "Have a good evening," his voice is cool and confident, and he walks out of the little alley before taking off into the air.
What: discovery & discussion.
Where: section five, then moving.
Summary: Barricade sees something interesting when he tries to relax. Said something has what one would call an insatiable curiosity.
Notes: This takes place before Mikaela's kidnapping.
couldbetheprez: Slums were the same in any world, it seemed. Robots, humans....it didn't seem to matter. When covered in their own filth and left to fend for themselves, they huddled in the same groups and picked on the weakest prey all the same. It was almost funny, how much these robots were like the people he knew. Good guys, bad guys. Gangs. Slums. It brought a smile to his lips.
It was strange, walking through these places where there were doors built twenty feet high with entrances for someone his size. Strange how, in attempt to not use his flight at the same time as any other power, he walked. It irritated him to not end to be looked down on, physically or otherwise, but in this case, he didn't have a choice. He couldn't die, true, but caution was key - he had no idea what these robots could do, and he'd already been told they were capable of the same spectrum of emotions as humans. He did not want to have his limbs torn off and place in corners of the city. That might be difficult to regenerate.
"Hey, meatsack!" A robotic voice behind him. It doesn't sound much taller than he is, maybe ten, twelve feet. Certainly not enough to fling his limbs from corner to corner.
"That's not very nice," he says, turning around, hands behind his back. "I have a name."
"What are you doing here, fleshbag?" The robot hisses, and Sylar feels the power in his fingertips. He glances over the robot, intently, seeking something out - how does this work. What does this piece, that piece, and this ---- yes. that one. Suddenly it's raging in him, that dark hunger. Even works for robots, he thinks, and smiles cruelly. "This isn't a place for weaklings like you."
"I don't think I'm as weak as you think I am," he says, and he barely resists the urge to lick his lips. It's all cogs and gears and electricity. Like a twelve-foot watch. It's so clear to him, how it works, but if he could find out a little more, then....
"Get out," the robot says, but Sylar laughs in his face and shakes his head.
"No," he replies, all hunger and focus, driven by that urge. Lightening arcs from his hand, blue bolts striking the robot square in the chest, skittering over the exposed pieces of metal and wiring. The robot screams, screeches, and there's the sound of circuits breaking and burnt metal. It makes him hungrier, and he arcs a second bolt. But the robot's ready this time, and he follows the bolt towards Sylar, effortlessly slamming him into a wall.
Ow, yes, it hurts, but he stops shooting bolts when he gets dizzy as his bones and flesh reknit. It's never fun, healing, but it's not as bad as shapeshifting. The questions are more important. Where does that strength come from? How do each one of those little gears in the fingers work? When his back feels right again, he spits blood and keeps smiling, and this time, lightening shoots from both hands - thousands of volts, straight to the chest, and even if the robot doesn't die, he fries enough wire to incapacitate it.
"Don't underestimate a little flesh and some genetic mutation, robot," he says, and he lifts himself up, landing in the creatures insides. it's like heaven in here. He lands, and slowly begins to pull cogs out, until he has a handful of things to study somewhere. Now, to find a somewhere to study.
reallybadcop: Barricade had found a place to rest, for now; a 'safe enough' section to shut down his higher processes and enter a light recharge cycle while relying on certain alarms to warn him of danger.
Danger wasn't what wakes him, though. It's a completely different set of data coming through his sensors, and his headlights brighten slightly as he becomes privy to...a rather interesting scene.
A human. But-not a human. No human can do that. Barricade watches intently as electricity flies from it to the unfortunate Transformer, the robot crumpling to the ground and promptly being...entered by the human. Well, not entered, but having certain parts removed. Interesting.
Very interesting.
Slowly, the Saleen Mustang approaches, lights on as to not startle the human. Wouldn't do to be on the receiving end of...whatever that was.
couldbetheprez: If he could, he'd drag the entire thing back to study the components. As is, this looks pretty central. Feels central, if the dulling of the itch in his mind and his fingers and behind his ears means anything. Whatever it is, though, it's foreign even to him. He knows how things work, but he doesn't know what things are. He knows what a gear is, and what a circuit board is, but these little symbols are gibberish to him. He curses to himself. If he wasn't struggling with being Taub and his mother he would have killed that brat Rebel and this would have been easier than easy. He doesn't notice the car at first, totally absorbed by the pieces, resting half-in the chest cavity he's created. Dizzy again. This is going to be a pain. He needs a place to stay.
A cop car? Wasn't here when he came. Doesn't look right enough to be a cop car. He lowers himself to the ground and arches an eyebrow at it, as if it will suddenly grow a mouth and start talking.
reallybadcop: Well, it doesn't form a mouth, but it does start to talk once it's clear that the human has seen him.
"You must be the first human that has impressed me," Barricade rumbles, voice low and, while speaking the english language - anything but human. "That was quite a show."
couldbetheprez: At that he does startle, taking a step back and dropping the board he was holding. Transform. Right. The girl, she said.... right.
A cop car. No wonder they keep themselves so well-hidden. People don't approach and investigate cop cars on a daily basis. It's clever. He likes it. "Thank you," he says, a dark grin on his face, still riding that psychological high destroying the robot's innards has given him. "I'm not your average human."
reallybadcop:"Obviously not. You're far more interesting." The car rolls a bit further forwards - not too close - before showing proof positive of his species and transforming. Panels slide apart, gears and servos twist, doors become arms and wheels slide up back past shoulders until a humanoid form stands where the police vehicle once was.
Four red optics gaze down at the human, and then at the body - and then, without so much as an 'excuse me', Barricade moves for the latter. Hey - if the human is salvaging for parts, he might as well see if there's anything useful, as well...
couldbetheprez: God, that's fascinating. Mesmerizing. Teasing him, almost. Look at all those little gears, intricate little workings in complete harmony. As if he never destroyed this first one, that pounding is back again; electricity crackles at his fingers, surging before he painfully suppresses it. It's one thing to go killing robot street rats. It's another thing to destroy something that turns into a police car. Sylar's never had that much respect for the police (mostly because they haven't learned that tasers don't work), but this is a little different. He makes an internal promises to that keening inside of him. Soon. We'll see something like that soon. Just wait.
It's enough to give him a headache. "Anything useful in there?" He asks. "I want to see how it works."
reallybadcop:"Come closer and I'll show you."
Still alive, but just barely. Well - Barricade never had any troubles fixing that sort of thing. He smiles coldly to himself, resting a clawed hand over the chest as he looks towards the human, curious to see what he'll do.
couldbetheprez: He takes several steps closer, staring straight up, his gaze fixated on those inner parts. A heart is so simple, just four chambers, but this is complex, gears and cogs and electricity surging. "I want to see," he breathes.
reallybadcop: Fascinating creature. And fascinated. Barricade's smile chills further as he taps his claw on the chest. It's a different build than him, but certain things seem to be the same.
Perhaps...he can walk the creature through this.
"The armor in the chest - in most mechs - covers and protects the fuel pump, the spark chamber, the primary engine and converters. Of course, it depends on the build...but this one appears to be a ground vehicle. Which means that if he's opened up further..."
Care to follow the lead, there? Since you obviously have power of your own...
couldbetheprez:"Would that expose everything? The robotic equivalents of heart and brain in the same place?"
It's about then when the hunger overrides the caution and the possibility of being exposed and basically everything else. Knowledge is intoxicating, always has been, and this is worse - the first time. Like Brian Davis all over again. Effortlessly, he lifts himself off the ground, hovering easily at Barricade's arm height.
reallybadcop:"Not quite. The cerebral processors are located in the head, usually." A tap to the unconscious mech's helm. "But...it will expose more than enough to kill them. I have yet to find a mold that can survive without a spark."
True - he's essentially telling the human how to kill him. But there's something to be said about risk; get enough of the human's attention, he might have just found a tool to use, here.
A rather versatile one, if its electrical and levitation abilities are any sign. Barricade gives the human a sideways look, studying him.’
couldbetheprez:"The same way humans are," he replies, studying the still form of the robot. "I suppose that makes sense, then." There's an unusual intent, bordering on obsession in his gaze as he looks over the mechanical corpse. He swallows, suddenly, and lands on Barricade's arm, balancing himself precariously. This limiter is getting annoying fast, and he'll either have to grow ten feet or learn how to suppress his hunger better if he doesn't want to keep nearly falling out of the sky. But that hungry stare returns, once he's found his balance. "Is he still alive? How can you tell?"
reallybadcop: Barricade glances at the human as he lands on his arm...and, after a moment's consideration, turns it slightly so that the panel is horizontal. Easier to stand upon. "He's still giving off energy readings - and his spark is still lit. Look," he says, pointing with his other hand at a break in the armor - where a small sphere of energy can just barely be seen. "There - that is his core."
The question is, the human's thirst for knowledge - is it the sort that is content to simply take in what is there, or will it search for more, the kind that breaks something for the pure simple fact that it is curious to find out what will happen?...
couldbetheprez: He performs a series of flighty hops down Barricade's arm and onto the mech, following that faintly glowing light. The Spark, like the Autobot had said. It looks like a soul. Breathtaking. It's like staring into the face of god. He considers, for a moment, using his much-stronger telekinesis to pull the front plates off, then reconsiders. His head's clearing, and as much as he knows he shouldn't berate himself for giving in, he does - but enough of that. "Can you pull the front plates off?" He asks, glancing over his shoulder and up to Barricade's face.
reallybadcop: That was certainly a good sign. Barricade's smile reappears as he reaches forwards, taking hold of the fried armor with both claws - and ripping down, the mech spasming and emitting a shriek as he's exposed. Not that he's in any position to fight, what with still being fried from Sylar's 'self-defense'.
Within - gears, servos, circuitry, and that spark chamber.
couldbetheprez: If Sylar's bothered by the shriek, he doesn't show it. He does, however, openly stare at the parts exposed. Christ, that's beautiful. It's like staring straight into a brain. Never fails to take his breath away, no matter how many times he does it. And this? This is all new. He's quite sure he could be here for days pulling this robot apart, looking at each piece, figuring out how and why and where. And the complexity. He could spend a hundred years and never come this close. For a watchmaker, used to working in such small scale, seeing something so big literally blows him away. And it's not just the hunger, no. He's pretty sure Claire and Noah and Elle would all stare, too.
"Incredible." He breathes.
reallybadcop: With the armor off, it's clear that there's a few differences between Barricade and the unfortunate victim - must be because of those different universes - but that hardly matters. He recognizes most of the parts, even though he's not a medic. The important parts, at least, though one of the converters he thought essential to function doesn't seem to be there...hn.
But still. The human seems to be quite fascinated. "Explore," the Decepticon encourages, voice like the purr of a well-kept engine.
couldbetheprez: Like he needs to be told twice. But there's a sudden, obvious problem, and then a second. First of all, it seems like he only has one set of clothes, right about now, and he has no desire to be getting them covered in oil and grease and not just because it might make alibis difficult; he just hates dirty clothes. Secondly...
"Is it safe to to swimming around the chest cavity of a robot in public?" He asks, although said cavity is nearly singing at him, like some kind of mechanical siren.
reallybadcop: -ah, yes. Humans aren't as well insulated against certain things as a Cybertronian, but if he can take /electricity/...
The question strikes him as odd, though, upon reconsideration. "In public?" Barricade repeats, tilting his head. "He's in no shape to care. And the nearest energy signature on my scanners is a fourth of a mile away."
couldbetheprez: That's a comforting thought. He does some mental math and, without hesitation, strips off both his jacket and shirt. The pants he can hide any stains on, as much as the boots - the oil has already covered his hands, and he'll just have to be careful about his his neck and face. He leaves the clothes on Barricade's arm and prays the robot doesn't oil them up himself something worse. A few more flight-hops has him nearly on top of those cogs and servos. It's certainly a far cry from watches, but that doesn't some it from absorbing his entire attention span.
reallybadcop: Barricade glances at the clothing on his arm, but doesn't make any effort to take them off. He's more interested in the human playing around in the mech's insides.
They really did come in all sorts of personalities - if that boy Witwicky was in this creature's place, no doubt he'd already been screaming for whatever reason. This one...so long as his fascination stayed on others, Barricade was inclined to humor his curiosity. As long as he received his own knowledge...
"You are human?" he asked, seeking confirmation. "With such abilities?"
couldbetheprez:"Evolved human," Sylar replied. "I'm human, just... special. Better than most."
reallybadcop: "Really. How did that happen?" Barricade leaned a bit closer, scanning the human. He was obviously in an agitated state, but other than that, he couldn't find anything different from an average human.
couldbetheprez: "Evolution, I suppose." His voice was distracted, though he paused at the how question. For all his talents, the intricacies of genetics had always been Mohinder's speciality. "The human genome is constantly changing, mutating, to become better. I don't know if, how, robots evolve - if you have some sort of robotic DNA -" The possibility of shifting into a twenty-foot-tall robot suddenly loomed, but he pushed it aside for the moment. "But humans are always changing. Some of these changes are just more obvious, better, worse, more advantageous - then others." He tugged, pulling a sprocket out and running his finger over the edge.
reallybadcop:"We are made," Barricade said simply, in response to how they were made. That was enough explanation as any. "So...this is part of your evolution?"
couldbetheprez: "Yes," he sat back in the cavity, which was slowly changing shape as he ruffled through the components at a remarkable speed. "I can see how things work. How all the pieces come together to create the whole. It's strange, because in this case I don't even know the base parts of this kind of machine. I fix watches and clocks by trade, and this is.. much larger." He chuckled to himself at the understatement. "There are people where I'm from who can freeze a surface, fly, shoot fire, breathe underwater....I guess the possibilities are endless, if I can be cliche."
reallybadcop: Very interesting. If the mech had any chance of surviving before...well, those chances were incredibly slim now, what with his parts being dislocated. And Barricade could only smirk at the human. "Intriguing. The only humans I've met have been...less than stellar examples of your species."
couldbetheprez: "There are a lot of less than stellar examples of my species." His voice was dry, and electricity flickered at his fingers at the though. Elle. Noah. Angela. "Unfortunately."
reallybadcop: "Indeed." And here Barricade intentionally slips some information, further testing the human to get an idea of just who and what he is. "One even went so far as to doom my own."
couldbetheprez: Hunger sated and mind cleared, he could see when he was being bated. He carefully stood up and returned to the work, more analytical than obsessive, talking as he did so. "That doesn't surprise me. Humanity doesn't have any respect for anything unlike itself. Humans routinely beat down other humans that root for another football team. The possibility that they would accept a twenty foot tall robot is, on a good day, unlikely, and, on a bad day, absolutely impossible."
reallybadcop: There was a change in him, that much was obvious - a subtle one, but a change. Barricade decided to play it safe. "We sought an artifact of great value," he said simply, "though...your species has your own history of war. You have an understanding of what it is like for brother to fight brother.”
couldbetheprez: He thinks, suddenly, of Nathan and Peter. Of them, and himself, and what he believed....it's enough to make a man get lost in his own thoughts, really. Watching Peter glare as he woke up, all of that. And yet those two came together again, and come together over and over. It's noble. Poetic.
"That kind of environment can't be a healthy one." He says after a while, tracing through all of that. And now, here he is and Nathan is so very dead, and he can just imagine Peter wracked in his own grief, maybe blowing up the city again.
reallybadcop: He does seem to know, then. "Perhaps not," Barricade allows, and leaves it at that - for now. There's something more pressing. "What is your designation?" It's a work of will not to add 'human' on the end. If he's *trying* to become a friend...
couldbetheprez:“Sylar," he answers. He considered, when he came here, being Gabriel. Sweet, innocent Gabriel. but it seems wrong now, not after what he went through his mother, Taub and Danko. The least he could do is show a little spine in the face of realizing who/what he is. "You robots don't have last names, do you?"
reallybadcop: Cue the tilt of his head. Last names. "...occasionally titles become part our names," Barricade says with a slight growl, thinking of one particular mech who hardly deserves said title or name, "But mine is Barricade."
couldbetheprez:"Barricade." he rolls it off his tongue. It has a good ring to it, one that he likes. "So, do you have... families of robots? Or is it just autobots and decepticons?
reallybadcop: He'd already heard about Autobots and Decepticons? Interesting. And was still talking with him...perhaps he'd heard from a Decepticon, then. Or didn't believe the Autobots. Or hadn't realized Barricade's faction. Either way.
"Some call other brothers," he explained, "As we are one species. And we may have partners. But our factions define us, for the most part."
couldbetheprez:“But, is your faction permanently built into you? I could change my clothes, move to another country, work on a new accent- " Get an entirely new face, but he doesn't add that, "But if someone were to take a sample of my blood, it would always be the same, and I could always be matched to my mother and my father. I don't mean to be intrusive...I"m just curious." He smiles a thin little smile at that.
reallybadcop: It is...a harmless enough question, Barricade supposes. "When the war began, we chose our sides," he says slowly, studying the human. "Defections have happened...but not very often." He smiles toothily - and it's not a nice smile, meant to convey what usually happens to those defectors. Whether by their new side, or their former allies...
couldbetheprez: "Right," He smiles at that, too, even though he sometimes thinks that in his war, there aren't really any sides anymore, besides his side and everyone else. And maybe Luke has destroyed that anyway. He wonders about the kid, a little, and discards that notion entirely. "Were more of you made during the war? How did you choose? Was it built into you?"
reallybadcop: "You ask a lot of questions, don't you?" Now that they're a bit more personal, Barricade finds himself a little reluctant to answer them. But...hn. He looks up, then back down at the human within the still-fading body...then runs a quick search of the body, searching and finding the ID bolt with credit information within. It will do for now, he supposes, ripping it off the chassis.
"I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours," he declares, slipping the bolt into a section of armor. "And not here."
couldbetheprez:"I like to know things," he answers, looking Barricade in the eye. Fascinating optical technology, probably far better than anything he's ever seen. The lenses themselves must be wonderfully smooth and arched. Better than the crystal in any watch. "And in a place where I know nothing, I think the most important thing to find out is what sides really mean. Good guys, bad guys...." He shrugs, laughs briefly. "Relative terms."
At that he pauses, eyes dark and thoughtful. It wouldn't be difficult to lie to this robot, but there is the possibility that he could sense those minor psychological changes that come with a lie, even one spoken flawlessly. At the same time, he's curious, almost achingly so. He watches as Barricade pulls something off the robot and slips it into what must be considered a pocket. "I have a long story," he says, in response. He smiles again though, darkly.
reallybadcop: Four optics, all locked upon Sylar. Yes, he thinks he likes this human...at least on first look. "Your species is short-lived compared to mine," he says simply. "Our concepts of time are relative as well." The offer still stands, and, well, if the human wants to know what it means to truly be a Decepticon...
Why not? Assuming Barricade can gather his own set of information. It's a fair trade, especially if he gains an element of trust in return.
couldbetheprez: Sylar tilts his head to the side as he finally removes himself from the innards of the (now very dead) robot. He is, indeed, covered in grease and oil like he expected, but it's good that his clothes weren't ruined. He'll have to find a place to shower and some WD-40, but the latter shouldn't be difficult, at least, considering this place's inhabitants.
couldbetheprez: Are you are a decepticon?" The question really isn't inquisitive, like he already knows the answer. "Because if you were, I'd ask why you haven't torn me from limb to limb yet. You even asked my name. After all, that's what an autobot told me." His tone is amused, smug, even edging on sarcasm.
reallybadcop: Barricade offers his arm forwards, and the clothes upon it. "I am," he confirms, smirking. "And contrary to what Autobots would have you believe, we're not single-minded killing machines." Just some of them - he had a few good friends that were. "The Autobots as of late have become far more brutal...even their Prime," the title spoken with no small amount of hatred, "has sins of his own to account for."
couldbetheprez: He hops back onto Barricade's arm, and after studying his clothes for a few moments, uses the jacket to wipe off as much grease as he can and then pulling the shirt on over his chest. He'll need to find something to clean a little better with, maybe mass quantities of turpentine. If he makes digging in robot chests a hobby, at least. "Not all of you at least, I"m sure," he laughs at that. Surely there are bad guys that are meant to be bad (there always are). "But maybe a few. And on the other wide is the same way. That's just how it is."
=The police car smiles again at that, amused by the human's humor. "Acute as well - you continue to impress me, hu-Sylar." He has a name now, after all, might as well use it. "Most humans were more inclined to accept the Autobot's words without question. A pity." It meant that they had to get their hands dirty going after the Allspark...which turned out to be a failure in the end.
Foul Autobots. And the human allies they made, hunting down his fellow Decepticons like animals. (To be fair, the ones that were found were fools who'd attracted far too much attention...)
couldbetheprez:"Those who call themselves 'the good guys' have spent the greater part of my recent existence trying to alternatively change who and what I am or putting taser rounds in my back. I think you can understand why my view of the world has changed. For the better, I think." He glances at the hole in his poor victim's chest, and his eyes glance up, to the robot's forehead. he won't here, he thinks, but later one, certainly. It makes him smile.
reallybadcop: "I can understand and appreciate it. Humans played a part in dooming my species, but were it not for the Autobots we would still have our home." Sure, he may still be planning to backstab Sylar at a later date - but for now, he could be very useful, and why get ahead of himself? Sylar appears to distrust the Autobots off the bat, and that could prove very useful, especially if he could be convinced to use those abilities of his on them. The thought of Bumblebee screaming in agony...
Barricade moves back, folding himself back down into his alternate mode. A door swings open, clear invitation for Sylar to enter. Sure, he's a bit dirty, but...it's a small price to pay.
couldbetheprez: Sylar pads his own fall and watches, fascination only a little dulled by his sated hunger. He takes the door in his hand but frowns at it. This doesn't seem smart - he doesn't want to be seen with decepticons, at least not yet, and there are easy ways to see through window tint. Not only that, but it seems like quite a jump in trust to sit inside a robot who has the same ideas as you - that tearing someone open for the sake of seeing how they work - is fine. he can only imagine what happens to this space if he were to transform again. He's not sure he wants to test the limits of regeneration by seeing if he can put himself back together from being a crushed pile of bones, organs and brain matter. To hide his face means he has to shapeshift in front of Barricade, and that's not a trick he wants to give up just yet.
He closes the door, then, studying the car. "I'll meet you," he says. "Where are you going?"
reallybadcop: He hasn't earned too much trust, then - well, it just means he'll have to work on it. Barricade starts to ping a set of coordinates before remembering that organics can hardly receive such transmissions, and makes a sound with his engine that could be a 'hrnnn'.
Probably shouldn't go too far, Sylar can't move very fast. So...he regards his maps. "A level above, there's a set of factories that purify energon - the northernmost is bordered by some housing units. I'll be near the middle of them. Can you make your way there?"
couldbetheprez:"Sure," he says and nods, glancing up above them. He's not sure how capable Nathan ever was of low-flight, and he doesn't have that much practice. That being said, he's pretty sure he can go way, way faster than Barricade suspects. Either way, it's not good to show all of one's cards... even one's half of cards. "I'll be there in a little bit," he smiles.
reallybadcop: "I'll meet you there, then," Barricade confirms before making to drive. He's not in a hurry, by any means, but he's not going to dawdle. Let the human walk and think about how much faster things could be if he'd taken Barricade up on his offer of a ride...
...though...wasn't he doing some floating, before?
couldbetheprez: He puts his hands in his jeans pocket and feels a little like some kind of mechanic, half-dirty with a ruined jacket and pants, grease barely smeared across his skin. He wonders, idly, if he can have a zit breakout with Claire's ability. It's never been a problem before - then again, he's always had a shower and never been covered in grease, even if it's just a shitty motel shower. He tilts his head to the side as he watches Barricade zoom off. How interesting. Sylar doesn't believe in coincidence, and the fact that these robots sound, act, and are built like humans and like human machines is too obvious for him to ignore.
Once he goes through all his thoughts and figures out what his plan is - find out more, really. He doesn't want to get involved, not yet. And keep a close eye on whether these fucking robots attempt to use you. He's tired of that shit. He lifts off the ground and tests out the power, more than he's been able to. It's more like a helicopter than a plane, and not looking at Nathan's brain means that he definitely needs some time to get a good grip on flight. Now's a good a time as ever.
*
reallybadcop: Barricade reached the area he spoke about before long, and settled down to wait. As he did, he considered what he'd learned so far: first and foremost being that the human Sylar? Was not half as much a fool as most of the others he'd encountered.
No, he'd been prodded for information just as surely as he'd prodded the other. True, it was harmless enough information, to Barricade at least - Sylar knew the basic workings of a Transformer, certainly enough to kill them, but Barricade was relatively confident that he could take care of the human if be became a threat. After all, the mech that they were over wasn't from Barricade's home, and there were multiple differences between the two. There were enough similarities, but Barricade hardly mentioned his built-in weaponry. A missile should be more than effective at stopping a threat, and he could be repaired. Organics had to take the time to heal.
At least this particular one more interested in knowledge then politics. Yes, he decided, he could share the war with him, at least its knowledge. He would of course like Sylar to come to the conclusion that the Autobots were pompous fools, perhaps much like his own 'good guys', but...
He'd have to wait and see.
couldbetheprez: He would have to test out the limits of flight, but here and now wasn't a good place for it. He would need space (a lot of space) and secrecy and time. And right now, he didn't have any of those things, just hunches and guesses and robot innards and a possible lead in Barricade. He knew well that this was a give-and-take relationship right now, and he hated giving and much preferred taking. Right now, though, he would deal. Until he knew a little more about what he was dealing with, about the much smaller picture, the picture he had always specialized in.
Luckily, there were ladders and elevators so he didn't have to fly. He didn't have to fly, so he could reach out with every other power he possessed. It was dangerous to read random objects, and so he avoided that, but he let his aptitude reach out. It gave him comfort even as he didn't know where he was, what his limits were anymore.
He found the living sections that Barricade had mentioned and looked up at them. Hmm. Mostly robot sized, yes, but he was unsure of which one exactly. It wasn't like there was going to be a cop car in the drive way. A bad guy being a police car. Ironic. Barricade must have known.
reallybadcop: True; there were no cop cars in the driveways. But there was one patrolling the area, well aware that Sylar can hardly lock in on his signature. Thus, it wasn't too long before said cop car might have been seen in his vision, slowly cruising the crosstreet ahead of him before pulling off to the side into an alley.
couldbetheprez: Huh. There it is. He follows idly, in that way that people can without making themselves stand out. It's strange. Even though there's an unmistakable feel about the man - confidence, maybe too much - combined with his notable features, he seems to be quite talented at slipping into a crowd. That's how he strides after Barricade, half invisible without seemingly doing anything except making himself feel normal.
reallybadcop: Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, Barricade transformed into his standard form once he was cloaked in shadow, and simply waited for Sylar to arrive. He glanced at the human as he did, studying him for a long moment...
"What do you want to know?" he asked bluntly.
couldbetheprez:"Everything," he said, and smiled.
reallybadcop: Really. Barricade arched an optic-ridge, and considered...
"The Autobot you spoke with. Did you get a name?" he asked, sounding more thoughtful than anything else. If it was one of 'his', then he'd know exactly where to start...
couldbetheprez:"Ironhide," he says dismissively. It isn't important to him who it was, really, especially the robot was so pathetically predictable. It's no surprise and finding such a character mildly annoys him more than anything else. He pauses, presses his lips together.
"And what do you want to know?"
reallybadcop: "Ah," Barricade said with a smirk. "Him. He was one of us, once, you know. Before the war started. As for what I want to know..."
He leaned forwards slightly. "Your abilities fascinate me. I would like to know more about what evolution has spawned them."
couldbetheprez: "He's boring," He says, brushing his hand away at the thought of Ironhide. "Predictable and manageable. Provided he has the rationalization for it, the feeling of that he is doing the right thing, he will protect his fragile morality. I worked with a man like him."
Oh, Danko. He puts the thought aside, thought, looking up at Barricade. "Some mutation in my genetic code. The barest changes to the smallest gene, and here I am....."
reallybadcop: “The most thinking he ever did for himself was to abandon us for Prime's foolishness. Other than that, whatever Prime says he will follow." The name/title is still touched by hatred; yes, Barricade has a grudge. Not in the least because his repairs are still fresh.
"Has this happened before, then, to your species? Spontaneous changes and then...you are as gods among your people?"
couldbetheprez: "How noble of him," Sylar's voice is dry. He's curious about what Barricade might or might not have against this Prime - though it's quite possible the hate simply comes from opposite sides. It's a question to ask at a later date, if nothing else. "It's been happening for the last forty years, maybe even before that. There are people who could turn lead to gold, heal with a touch. I can't... say how many have done this. But I know it happens."
reallybadcop: "Forty. And your species is young." If Barricade sounds impressed, it's because he is. But then, organics always did have a faster growth than those made of metal and steel - perhaps related to their short life spans. And frailty...evolve or die. "How many of you have expressed these power?"
couldbetheprez:"I don't know," He looks out into the alley, away from Barricade, voice distracted. "Thousands, maybe. Millions. there's no way to tell. A man I knew was working on an algorithm to track people with powers, though he was....constantly interrupted." A chuckle, at that. "I had that list, once. I lost it." He can't repress a snarl at the thought. Kirby Plaza leaves a bitter, bitter taste in his mouth, as well as that long trip back to New York. "I recently acquired a new list, though." His voice relaxes, eases, as he thinks of Building 26 and everything associated with it.
reallybadcop: "Millions - and there's billions of your species. Trillions." So an exceedingly small amount...but if these are small mutations, then perhaps logically so. It's something to think about...when nothing else comes to mind. Such as plotting death and torture to those who deserve it most.
couldbetheprez: "About six and a half billion, where I'm from," he adds. "But this isn't something that people...that most people, that normal people just announce to the world. Many try to hide their gifts, even though they've been blessed with them. Idiots."
reallybadcop: "If your species' past is any indicator, then they would find themselves in laboratories." He smirks a little. "Assuming they would let themselves be caught and experimented upon." If they can't defend themselves with their abilities, that's their own fault.
couldbetheprez: At that, he clenches a fist, growls in the back of his throat. Thinks of Elle, even, and himself, and all those other people in the Company. Everyone the Company hijacked. And then Pinehearst. And then building 26. Sickening, almost. "And that they did," he says, softly, hand coming up to his neck. "And continue to do, right now. After all, it's human nature to fear what you don't understand. To look for answers. Even if you know those answers could put you places that you don't want to be."
reallybadcop: Oh ho. He's struck a nerve. Barricade can't help but lean forwards a bit, optics focusing and zooming in on Sylar's neck. Something there, perhaps...?
"Yours is a cruel species," he observes quietly.
couldbetheprez: "A species that hardly needs your pity," He snaps. It's curious, but Sylar's neck is, regardless of what he does or says, shockingly smooth. If there was something there, it's not there anymore. "We do a fine job hurting and taking revenge on each other without robot involvement, I assure you."
8:51:14 PM reallybadcop: "What makes you think it has my pity?" Barricade's optic-ridges arch before he leans back. Nothing his sensors can find; he lets it pass. No use guessing, especially with such a small factor. "And you do. It'd be almost awe-worthy if not for the fact that our war has lasted since before your kind knew how to communicate."
couldbetheprez: "We still don't know how to communicate," he says, with cold, ironic smile. He puts his greasy jacket on anyway, wiping his hands on his pants as if that will somehow remove the rest of the grease that's on his hands. "Trust me, I know. A species of liars and cheats."
reallybadcop: If Barricade had any napkins, rest assured he would offer them to Sylar. As it is, he simply continues studying Sylar. "As I said - a cruel species. But at least some of you can admit it." He smirks a little - it's not a jibe at Sylar, more of humankind at general. If anything, to Sylar - it should be a compliment. You're far from pure, from what he's seen.
couldbetheprez: "Humanity is a race full of monsters. I am simply one out of many." He shrugs, looking at the crackling blue ball that's suddenly appeared in his hand. "I've simply learned to understand an accept that part of me. It's a shame that most people haven't, yet. They...cling to their believes, the sad structure that society tries to impress on them." he puts his hands in his greasy pockets, looking into whatever horizon this city presents to him. His voice is distant, whimsical, almost.
reallybadcop: ...powers indeed. Barricade immediately begins to scan the sphere of electricity, further plans forming within his processor. "Everyone is a monster, at least in some small part," he agrees. "The question is whether or not you learn to live with it." Or pretend it isn't there, like a certain Prime...
couldbetheprez: "It's good to find someone who you can agree with, even if that agreement happens with a twenty-foot tall robot." It draws that cool smile across his face again. "We're not very different, you know. In fact, it looks like humans and robots are...exactly the same. Except for our parts, at least. And in some cases, not even that. There are..millions of artificial hearts in people. pacemakers, fake knees...." He trails off, eyes focused on whatever piece of the robot is his eye-height - probably somewhere between his knee and hip.
reallybadcop: Barricade stands at approximately 18 feet, at full height; slightly slouched here, leaning against the alley wall, it's closer to hip than knee...though not by much. "So I've seen. I have had some time to study your species...I would find the similarities more interesting if not for...certain events."
couldbetheprez: "Certain events?" He doesn't even bother to try to hide his curiosity. It's bait, clean and simple. He'll take it, this time.
reallybadcop: It was bait - Sylar /had/ asked to learn more. This is as good an opportunity as any to segue into it, but he'll have to ask the right questions to learn specifics. Nonetheless...
"Remember what I said about a human dooming my species?"
couldbetheprez: He nods, lifting up off the ground to hover in front of Barricade. "I can understand why you wouldn't want to accept you're similar to someone who would do that," he says, slowly, as if there's some kind of test to pass for each word.
reallybadcop: After a moment of observing Sylar float, Barricade extends an arm. He often conversed with Frenzy perched on some part of him, and it seems a small enough allowance. And if it's not taken, as with the ride - the offer was made.
"I can accept the similarities. But treating the species as more than insects, and the particular boy the focus of revenge..."
couldbetheprez:: "A particular boy?" This offer he accepts, landing gently on Barricade. It's strange, standing on something that is, for all intents and purposes, alive. But it's nice to know that his spot for a power is open, that he doesn't have to worry about dropping out of the sky if something else becomes necessary.
reallybadcop: "Yes. I was tasked to find and interrogate him, but the Autobots intervened. To shorten a story...he got lucky." Red optics narrow. "Very lucky, to accomplish such a thing as the murder of my leader and the destruction of the Allspark. That which gave our species life," he elaborates a moment later.
couldbetheprez: Peter, he thinks, instantly, and finds himself torn somewhere between rolling his eyes, scowling, and grinning. He opts for a slight smirk, amused, but it disappears as he thinks hard about the matter, expression thoughtful as he looks past Barricade. "On his own?" He asks. "Or did he have help?" Peter always had help.
reallybadcop: "The Autobots assisted him. Though I think he surprised even them with the destruction of the Cube." He smirks a little, bitterly. "Since then, the Autobots and a group of humans have been systematically hunting my kind down."
couldbetheprez: "To keep everyone safe, I assume? It's too dangerous to let all of you wander around on your own. You might hurt someone." Danko. Nathan. Oh, the good guys. "But I bet they don't think that's monstrous at all. In the end, they're just doing what's right."
reallybadcop: "Of course. You continue to impress me." And it was true. "Never mind the fact that without the Allspark, our species days' are numbered. Never mind the fact that the humans had it for Vorns, that the Autobots knew of this, and still the boy destroy it to destroy Megatron. Stopping us is far more important," he finishes in a growl.
couldbetheprez: "Humans are arrogant," his smile remains, just on the bare fringes of a laugh. "They believe that the world is built for them, to fits their needs. It's only natural - human nature -" the words have a kind cruel sneer to them, "that some dumb kid annihilate your race for the sake of humanity. After all, he's only looking for his species. I can hardly blame him. The survival drive is one of the most primal parts of humanity."
reallybadcop: "I can, perhaps, allow your struggle for survival," Barricade muses. "It is stronger than Prime's, at least - if he hadn't launched the Allspark, then our planet would still be alive. And our species would still have a future. Instead, he considered one he had just encountered more worthy of life than our own - and he calls himself a leader."
couldbetheprez:: "I can't blame him. Humanity really is something. At risk of being offensive and racist," the way he says it, the smugness, his body language - he clearly doesn't care if he's racist or not, "there are a number of things we we have that you won't ever have. Evolution, for example. You can be as big and as tall as you want, but you won't ever change, will you? You won't have children slightly different, until, in a million years, they're totally different. Robots will still be .... robots."
reallybadcop: "And we will still be robots long after your planet and species are mere records in the history files." Is he trying to be snide? Hard to tell. It may just be tit-for-tat with Sylar's pride of his species that, as if now, Barricade has seen only one worth more than a token interest. (Aside from the ones to be used.)
couldbetheprez:: "So?" The word's flippant. "That doesn't mean anything. If you're the only robot in the world, the only creatures still alive... you have nothing. You possess nothing. In some ways, you're just as...." A pause, a smile. "insignificant and unimportant as if you were at the very bottom of some social ladder. You're a nobody. Because there's nobody to be."
reallybadcop: It seems Sylar's the one touching a nerve, now; Barricade brings the arm Sylar stands on closer to his face, growling softly. The noise isn't unlike a car engine...if the engine belonged to a large, many-fanged feline. And one that was close to deciding that the creature before it was worth more as a morsel than a conversationalist.
"You underestimate my species, Sylar."
couldbetheprez: Sensing the obvious danger in being that close to a machine this big with so many teeth - standing on it, even - Sylar's boots just gently lift off Barricade's arm. He's not going anywhere, really, and it's more of a sign than anything else. I'm aware of where we stand, the sign says. "Well," he continues, still wearing that casual, musing smile, "If all the planets are destroyed and all the biological creatures are extinct, what is left for you? Congratulations." He leans in, matches eyes with Barricade, looking unafraid despite the obvious disadvantages. He doesn't look afraid, sound, sense afraid - if anything, there's something exciting about being able to infuriate something so much bigger than you. "You rule exploding stars and remains and astroids. Your survivability has been quite helpful indeed."
reallybadcop: "We got along quite well without organics before," Barricade rumbles, holding his face at a distance that most sane humans - and mechs alike - would consider far, far too close. "As did the universe. Perhaps we will fade someday," he says, lowering his voice as he thinks of the Allspark's destruction, "But we will be remembered far longer than yours."
couldbetheprez: Most sane humans might be afraid, but Sylar just drops back onto Barricade's arm so he can stare into the tiniest little workings of Barricade's face, watching the optical devices zoom and refocus, the thousands of little servos that create his mouth work in conjunction. It's a stare, and there's something primal the stare, almost like he's trying to tear the decepticon's face apart with his eyes alone. "And we got along fine - oh, well, moderately - without robots, so I suppose that makes use even. As for being remembered....who can say."
reallybadcop: Barricade would be mildly more disturbed by the scrutiny were he not annoyed. As it is, He growls again, softer this time, before lowering his arm - slightly. "The ones where I come from stole much of their technology from my leader's form. And only time will tell who will burn themselves into the universe's memory."
couldbetheprez: He shrugs at that and tears his stare away from Barricade, glancing around at the empty alley they've been talking in. That was a dumb idea, he thinks to himself, because it's the one ability he can't exactly turn off at will. It's distracting, and that's the last thing he needs right now. Funny to think the ability he savors most could get him into so much trouble. He'll need more practice. More control. Hopefully something to test tearing himself away on.
reallybadcop: And now that that little argument is out of the way...
"Any further questions, Sylar?" he questions.
couldbetheprez:: "None worth asking," he replies, because he has so many questions, which all can essentially be summed into can i to dissect you. There's a pause, in which the hunger claws at the inside of his skull, and he whispers promises to it: soon, soon, he internally say, because there's plenty of things here that he can take apart to sate himself. When it calms itself down, though, he turns back to Barricade, a relatively friendly edge on his smile. "I'm glad we had this discussion."
reallybadcop: "Indeed." Barricade's manner has returned to pleasant - well, as pleasant as it had ever been. He lowers his arm again, this time to ease Sylar back to the ground. "Perhaps we will meet again, but until then, watch yourself. There are many here who would think of you as a threat."
And many of them who prefer to end threats as soon as possible...
couldbetheprez: At that, Sylar can't help but laugh. Someone consider him a threat? How could such a thing ever be possible? He's a perfect little angel, after all. he looks at his grease-smeared hands and tries to imagine how many people imagine dead routinely. "I've been a threat before."
reallybadcop: "Then I will take your survival as proof that you know how to act." In other words, that you don't need anyone watching your back. (Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, seeing as it would make Sylar owe him, but...)
couldbetheprez: "Mmm," He agrees noncommittally, because his survival isn't totally because he's very responsible with his powers (most of the time). It's pretty easy to stay alive when gunshot wounds and stabs heal up almost immediately. "And you will be throwing yourself into this war with gusto, picking fights with every autobot you see, or are you more subtle than that?" He stepped casually off Barricade's hand as he spoke.
reallybadcop: Deadpan stare. "I am not the stereotype the Autobots would have you believe about the Decepticons," Barricade drawls, his panels shifting again as he keys his transformation cog. Very shortly, the mustang is back, with hardly a sign that it was ever a robot in the first place...aside from the fact that it can still talk. "If I was, then I would have died in Mission City. I would prefer to get a better idea of what this place is before making my decision..."
couldbetheprez: He nods at that, running a hand over Barricade's hood. If he didn't know, he would never be able to tell the difference between this car and any of the other police cars that have chased him over the past couple of years. "Not a bad idea."
reallybadcop: "You are not the only one who knows how to survive when they're a threat," the Decepticon says with no small trace of amusement. Oh, how the Autobots would have loved to see him dead by now, not in the least because of his attempts on the boy and Bumblebee...
couldbetheprez: "I suppose not." Like Noah, he thinks. That little rat, Bennet. "This was very enlightening." He raps on the hood, once, sharply, and sticks his hands in his pocket. It's still there, lurking underneath his conscious mind, and he can feel it. It's not going to go away until he does something about it, so -- it's very important to find another robot close to his size to tear apart. "Have a good evening," his voice is cool and confident, and he walks out of the little alley before taking off into the air.