Barricaded -- Chapter 9
... I'm evil, I know. But the bunnies... o.O
Title: Barricaded -- Chapter 9
Rating: T
Continuity: AU Movieverse, G1 influences
Warnings: Reprogramming. And I'm evil.
Chapter 9
Smokescreen lay nervously on the Med Berth. All seven mechs he had chosen had already donated their spark energy. But that had been the easy part.
Now, they had to get the energy into his spark, Optimus had to, to use Ratchet's words, “jump-start” it, they had to move the split portion of his spark into the new frame, then download Barricade's personality matrix and memories into the frame.
The process was actually rather simple - the spark energy infusion would be the same as any other, and Ratchet had performed many of them in his time as a medic in wartime. Optimus had said that the jump-start pretty much entitled him holding the Matrix over his spark, and it would do the rest. Transferring the spark and Barricade would be exactly the same as any other transfer - something, again, that Ratchet had done plenty of times.
The process was simple. That didn't make it easy. One wrong move on any of their parts could result in the extinguishing of both of the mechs under the knife.
The two mechs in the one frame would have asked if the other was sure, but they both knew it. They both knew it was long past time for Barricade to have his own frame. And so they willingly lay down on the berth and gave Ratchet access to all their motor controls.
A moment later, they were unconscious, and the work began.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Barricade woke slowly, optics flickering, processor slowly, ever so slowly, booting up. He no longer had the Decepticon overrides, he realized. He couldn't just jolt himself awake like before.
Never thought I'd miss any of that coding, eh, Smokey? … Smokey?
His vents stuttered as he realized just how alone he was. Nobody in his mind. Nobody there, talking to him. It was so... quiet.
The faint sense of fear yanked him into the world of the waking, and he sat up with a gasp.
Someone chuckled, and when he looked over, he saw... himself. Only not. Ratchet had obviously modified their previously shared frame. The spiky edges were gone, the red-purple optics were back to blue, and the colors... Familiar, yet odd at the same time. Blue and red and a yellow-gold chevron. The doorwings were broader than before - a new alt mode, he decided - and instead of the old Decepticon/police mark, he wore a dark, heavy number “38.” The not-him was sitting on the edge of his berth, smiling.
“Smokescreen,” he said, vocalizer hitching. His voice was smoother now. Not so scratchy and menacing. Even, kind. A voice you could trust.
“'Cade. Nice to see you awake. It's been a while.”
Glancing at his chrono, Barricade twitched (and noticed his doorwings seemed heavier than before in the process). “Five days?”
“Yeah. Ratch said it might be a while though, remember. Everything had to get integrated.”
“Right.”
They sat in silence for a long moment, staring at anything but each other. Then Smokescreen turned a wry grin on the younger mech. “Wanna see yourself? Ratchet said you could get up once you woke up, and... I know you've seen the frame, but... well, your colors have come in, and it wasn't really you before, you know?”
“Yeah. If it's alright, I'd like to.”
The red and blue Praxian leaned forward and wrapped his arm around the other mech's shoulders, easily supporting his weight. They stood together, slowly, as Barricade got used to his new legs. They were the same length, same size, but... there was something different.
By the time they got to the huge mirror installed on one wall of the Arc's Med Bay, Barricade had a better hold on his systems and was walking on his own. They stopped in front of the polished metal, and Barricade stared.
He was the same... but different. His plating was no longer black and white, but gray and red. His sharp edges had been dulled down, rounded out. His optics were a cheery, bright blue, crowned by a red chevron. His doorwings were wider, like Smokescreen's, but not by much, and carried no decal.
Smokescreen, who was still standing beside him, grinned. “How do you like it?”
“It's good. Different, but... good.”
“Good,” a deeper voice rumbled, and Barricade whirled around, doorwings twitching. Ratchet.
The former Decepticon shot a sideways glance at Smokescreen. “I do think I might have to recalibrate my doorwing sensors, though, 'cause they seem a bit... weird.”
“Heh. Yeah, I had to recalibrate mine, too.”
Ratchet shook his head. “Other than that?”
“Everything's good. Better than, actually. My doorwings are bigger, which will take getting used to, and my frame feels just a bit weird, but that's all normal, if what I’ve read about frame transfers is right, and I shouldn't be worried about any of that - not that I am worried. But yeah. I feel fine.”
Smokescreen blinked. Ratchet just shook his helm. “Right. Now, get outta my Med Bay. Prowl said you could stay with him and Jazz if you wanted, and Smokescreen offered as well.”
Barricade nodded and turned to the mech he had once been inhabiting the processor of. “I'd like to stay with you, if that's okay, but I would like to go see Prowl and Jazz sometime soon. And Optimus Prime, and Bumblebee, and Sam and Mikaela and Daniel, and Will and Annabelle, and Red Alert, and Ironhide... Well, I guess everyone.”
Smokescreen chuckled. “Alright then, let's go. Everyone wants to see you, too.”
Barricade smiled and followed as Smokescreen led the way out of the Med Bay.
They wandered down the halls, stopped frequently by anyone they passed. Optimus Prime, Jazz, Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Blades and Streetwise, Hound, Ironhide, Trailbreaker, Fireflight; all of them stopped to say hi, finally able to do so to both of the mechs at the same time.
They came across the first humans when they arrived at the Rec Room.
“I'm just saying!” Sam was protesting, looking defensive, while the other two humans, Will and Mikaela, were giving him strange looks. “Barricade is in a new frame now. It's like he's just been born! Sort of. A baby shower would be- Ooh, hey, guys!”
Barricade was pouting, and Smokescreen was snickering uncontrollably. “Baby shower, Sam?” he asked, optics wide. “I'm centivorns older than you! Even if I was just put in a frame, and that would be the birth of a preprogrammed mech, I’ve still been alive, and aware, and it's just that now, I’m in my own frame, and- What?”
“When did you get so chatty?” Sam asked, smile growing on his face.
Barricade blinked and cocked his helm to the side. “You know, I don't know. I... I just...”
“If I may cut in, I believe I know,” Smokescreen said, patting the gray and red mech on the shoulder. “Your whole life, you had me for company. Now, you're all alone in here.” He rapped a knuckle against the gray helm, and Barricade blinked. “We talked a lot. Now you've gotta fill up the silence.”
Barricade blinked again. “You know, that might be it. It's... quiet, and it shouldn't be, I think, so...”
“Yup. Psychologist, remember?”
Rolling his optics, the gray and red mech smacked his former frame-mate upside the helm.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Barricade regarded the gun in his hand with a skeptical look, then glanced back to Ironhide. “What's the purpose of this, again? You did this when Smokey and I first came, and I really don't see the point of testing me again.”
“We've gotta reassess your abilities. They'll be different, without the 'Con programming. I mean, you've still got the combat training in your memories, and the combat programming, but it's different now.”
The gray and red mech blinked, then twitched his doorwings in a shrug. “If you say so. I still don't get it, but I guess I don't mind going a few rounds. I’m ready when you are, so if you want to start it-”
“Okay, okay, enough. Ready in three, two, one-”
Barricade was immediately focused, face blank as he raised the rifle and let of a quick series of blasts. Five kliks after the sequence started, he lowered the rifle and glanced back at Ironhide.
“Whoa, you take any time to aim?”
“Yeah, I took a lot of time to aim. I got all bulls-eyes.”
“What? That's impossi- What the frag?”
Barricade shrugged, smirking. “Must have gotten something from you I didn't count on getting.”
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
The former Decepticon shook off a feeling of wariness as he stood, once again, in front of Red Alert's door. Unlike the last time, he didn't have Smokescreen to encourage him. And he had been summoned, this time.
He jumped as the door hissed open, and Red Alert's silhouette was once again visible, highlighted by the flickering light of the monitors.
“Barricade. Come in, please. Sit.”
Barricade did so. “You wanted me, sir?”
The small smile was barely visible against the shadowed faceplates. “Yes. I heard you talking to Prowl the other day, when you said you were thinking about changing your designation.”
Barricade shifted nervously, pedes shuffling against the ground and doorwings flicking against the back of the chair. “Yeah, I... Barricade was a Decepticon. I’m not him anymore, I’m someone else, and I want everyone to know. I mean, everyone on base already does, but, but I don't... I want to be someone else.”
“I can understand that. I am also willing to help you change your records, when you choose a new name.”
“Really? Because that would be great! I mean, I thought you wouldn't want me to, but that's awesome! And I actually do have a designation. Something Sam said the other day, actually, because I was talking a lot, and he said-”
“Have you talked to Optimus Prime about changing your name?”
“Yeah, he said it was fine once I had one. And anyways, I think I like it, so-”
“Mech! I need to know the name if I’m going to change the records.”
“Oh! Right! Well, I was talking a lot, and Sam said that I was talking a blue-streak, and I think I like that. I want to be called Bluestreak.”
Title: Barricaded -- Chapter 9
Rating: T
Continuity: AU Movieverse, G1 influences
Warnings: Reprogramming. And I'm evil.
Chapter 9
Smokescreen lay nervously on the Med Berth. All seven mechs he had chosen had already donated their spark energy. But that had been the easy part.
Now, they had to get the energy into his spark, Optimus had to, to use Ratchet's words, “jump-start” it, they had to move the split portion of his spark into the new frame, then download Barricade's personality matrix and memories into the frame.
The process was actually rather simple - the spark energy infusion would be the same as any other, and Ratchet had performed many of them in his time as a medic in wartime. Optimus had said that the jump-start pretty much entitled him holding the Matrix over his spark, and it would do the rest. Transferring the spark and Barricade would be exactly the same as any other transfer - something, again, that Ratchet had done plenty of times.
The process was simple. That didn't make it easy. One wrong move on any of their parts could result in the extinguishing of both of the mechs under the knife.
The two mechs in the one frame would have asked if the other was sure, but they both knew it. They both knew it was long past time for Barricade to have his own frame. And so they willingly lay down on the berth and gave Ratchet access to all their motor controls.
A moment later, they were unconscious, and the work began.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Barricade woke slowly, optics flickering, processor slowly, ever so slowly, booting up. He no longer had the Decepticon overrides, he realized. He couldn't just jolt himself awake like before.
Never thought I'd miss any of that coding, eh, Smokey? … Smokey?
His vents stuttered as he realized just how alone he was. Nobody in his mind. Nobody there, talking to him. It was so... quiet.
The faint sense of fear yanked him into the world of the waking, and he sat up with a gasp.
Someone chuckled, and when he looked over, he saw... himself. Only not. Ratchet had obviously modified their previously shared frame. The spiky edges were gone, the red-purple optics were back to blue, and the colors... Familiar, yet odd at the same time. Blue and red and a yellow-gold chevron. The doorwings were broader than before - a new alt mode, he decided - and instead of the old Decepticon/police mark, he wore a dark, heavy number “38.” The not-him was sitting on the edge of his berth, smiling.
“Smokescreen,” he said, vocalizer hitching. His voice was smoother now. Not so scratchy and menacing. Even, kind. A voice you could trust.
“'Cade. Nice to see you awake. It's been a while.”
Glancing at his chrono, Barricade twitched (and noticed his doorwings seemed heavier than before in the process). “Five days?”
“Yeah. Ratch said it might be a while though, remember. Everything had to get integrated.”
“Right.”
They sat in silence for a long moment, staring at anything but each other. Then Smokescreen turned a wry grin on the younger mech. “Wanna see yourself? Ratchet said you could get up once you woke up, and... I know you've seen the frame, but... well, your colors have come in, and it wasn't really you before, you know?”
“Yeah. If it's alright, I'd like to.”
The red and blue Praxian leaned forward and wrapped his arm around the other mech's shoulders, easily supporting his weight. They stood together, slowly, as Barricade got used to his new legs. They were the same length, same size, but... there was something different.
By the time they got to the huge mirror installed on one wall of the Arc's Med Bay, Barricade had a better hold on his systems and was walking on his own. They stopped in front of the polished metal, and Barricade stared.
He was the same... but different. His plating was no longer black and white, but gray and red. His sharp edges had been dulled down, rounded out. His optics were a cheery, bright blue, crowned by a red chevron. His doorwings were wider, like Smokescreen's, but not by much, and carried no decal.
Smokescreen, who was still standing beside him, grinned. “How do you like it?”
“It's good. Different, but... good.”
“Good,” a deeper voice rumbled, and Barricade whirled around, doorwings twitching. Ratchet.
The former Decepticon shot a sideways glance at Smokescreen. “I do think I might have to recalibrate my doorwing sensors, though, 'cause they seem a bit... weird.”
“Heh. Yeah, I had to recalibrate mine, too.”
Ratchet shook his head. “Other than that?”
“Everything's good. Better than, actually. My doorwings are bigger, which will take getting used to, and my frame feels just a bit weird, but that's all normal, if what I’ve read about frame transfers is right, and I shouldn't be worried about any of that - not that I am worried. But yeah. I feel fine.”
Smokescreen blinked. Ratchet just shook his helm. “Right. Now, get outta my Med Bay. Prowl said you could stay with him and Jazz if you wanted, and Smokescreen offered as well.”
Barricade nodded and turned to the mech he had once been inhabiting the processor of. “I'd like to stay with you, if that's okay, but I would like to go see Prowl and Jazz sometime soon. And Optimus Prime, and Bumblebee, and Sam and Mikaela and Daniel, and Will and Annabelle, and Red Alert, and Ironhide... Well, I guess everyone.”
Smokescreen chuckled. “Alright then, let's go. Everyone wants to see you, too.”
Barricade smiled and followed as Smokescreen led the way out of the Med Bay.
They wandered down the halls, stopped frequently by anyone they passed. Optimus Prime, Jazz, Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Blades and Streetwise, Hound, Ironhide, Trailbreaker, Fireflight; all of them stopped to say hi, finally able to do so to both of the mechs at the same time.
They came across the first humans when they arrived at the Rec Room.
“I'm just saying!” Sam was protesting, looking defensive, while the other two humans, Will and Mikaela, were giving him strange looks. “Barricade is in a new frame now. It's like he's just been born! Sort of. A baby shower would be- Ooh, hey, guys!”
Barricade was pouting, and Smokescreen was snickering uncontrollably. “Baby shower, Sam?” he asked, optics wide. “I'm centivorns older than you! Even if I was just put in a frame, and that would be the birth of a preprogrammed mech, I’ve still been alive, and aware, and it's just that now, I’m in my own frame, and- What?”
“When did you get so chatty?” Sam asked, smile growing on his face.
Barricade blinked and cocked his helm to the side. “You know, I don't know. I... I just...”
“If I may cut in, I believe I know,” Smokescreen said, patting the gray and red mech on the shoulder. “Your whole life, you had me for company. Now, you're all alone in here.” He rapped a knuckle against the gray helm, and Barricade blinked. “We talked a lot. Now you've gotta fill up the silence.”
Barricade blinked again. “You know, that might be it. It's... quiet, and it shouldn't be, I think, so...”
“Yup. Psychologist, remember?”
Rolling his optics, the gray and red mech smacked his former frame-mate upside the helm.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Barricade regarded the gun in his hand with a skeptical look, then glanced back to Ironhide. “What's the purpose of this, again? You did this when Smokey and I first came, and I really don't see the point of testing me again.”
“We've gotta reassess your abilities. They'll be different, without the 'Con programming. I mean, you've still got the combat training in your memories, and the combat programming, but it's different now.”
The gray and red mech blinked, then twitched his doorwings in a shrug. “If you say so. I still don't get it, but I guess I don't mind going a few rounds. I’m ready when you are, so if you want to start it-”
“Okay, okay, enough. Ready in three, two, one-”
Barricade was immediately focused, face blank as he raised the rifle and let of a quick series of blasts. Five kliks after the sequence started, he lowered the rifle and glanced back at Ironhide.
“Whoa, you take any time to aim?”
“Yeah, I took a lot of time to aim. I got all bulls-eyes.”
“What? That's impossi- What the frag?”
Barricade shrugged, smirking. “Must have gotten something from you I didn't count on getting.”
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
The former Decepticon shook off a feeling of wariness as he stood, once again, in front of Red Alert's door. Unlike the last time, he didn't have Smokescreen to encourage him. And he had been summoned, this time.
He jumped as the door hissed open, and Red Alert's silhouette was once again visible, highlighted by the flickering light of the monitors.
“Barricade. Come in, please. Sit.”
Barricade did so. “You wanted me, sir?”
The small smile was barely visible against the shadowed faceplates. “Yes. I heard you talking to Prowl the other day, when you said you were thinking about changing your designation.”
Barricade shifted nervously, pedes shuffling against the ground and doorwings flicking against the back of the chair. “Yeah, I... Barricade was a Decepticon. I’m not him anymore, I’m someone else, and I want everyone to know. I mean, everyone on base already does, but, but I don't... I want to be someone else.”
“I can understand that. I am also willing to help you change your records, when you choose a new name.”
“Really? Because that would be great! I mean, I thought you wouldn't want me to, but that's awesome! And I actually do have a designation. Something Sam said the other day, actually, because I was talking a lot, and he said-”
“Have you talked to Optimus Prime about changing your name?”
“Yeah, he said it was fine once I had one. And anyways, I think I like it, so-”
“Mech! I need to know the name if I’m going to change the records.”
“Oh! Right! Well, I was talking a lot, and Sam said that I was talking a blue-streak, and I think I like that. I want to be called Bluestreak.”