Collision 5
Mike had never felt so suffocated in the silence of his own garage.
He threw a nervous glance in the general direction of the silent, ominous form of the police cruiser as it sat, wordless, just behind him. Romano had been working furiously on the disassembled components strewn about on the workbench for over four hours, stopping only once for a bathroom break. It helped to keep him occupied and unthinking. It kept his mind off of what had occurred between him and the intelligent vehicle just after five ‘o’ clock that afternoon. Barricade had gone silent after his outburst, and by God, that utter stillness was driving the mechanic batty. The longer the Mustang Saleen sat there without even a twitch the more nervous and threatened Michael Romano felt - it felt distinctly like a child being stared at by one of his toys from across the room. Still and inanimate, and yet it held a sinister air.
Finally, he couldn’t take the quiet any more, and stood up. With practiced ease he swiftly stowed the tools he was using in their rightful place inside their respective drawers, turning to lean against the aged, chipped wood of the bench. The New York native thought over what he wanted to say as his dark brown eyes roved over the scuffed, dented, and filthy chassis of the beat-up muscle car facing the back wall. Gathering up his courage, Michael Romano walked along the driver’s side from taillight to hood, and stood within easy reaching distance of the dust-coated front left fender.
“Allright,” he started reluctantly, pausing to muse over his words. “I been thinkin’ ‘bout what I was sayin’ earlier, ‘n I think I know what set ya off. I mean, I wouldn’t really want some alien government getting ahold of me neither. You’re hiding, right? Hidin’ from us?”
Barricade pondered over his answer for a moment, his anger having burnt down into a smoldering, aching disgust that throbbed in tandem with the beat of his spark. “Yes,” he replied truthfully. “If I don’t, I get killed.”
“Right! So, basic survival instinct ‘n all. That’s why you got upset.” Michael took his customary oil-stained ballcap off. “Right?”
“I hope you’re not trying to sound smart by stating the blatantly obvious,” droned the Ford, clearly unimpressed.
The mechanic squirmed slightly, scratching at the back of his head. It was an awkward situation. “I just wanted to say that, yannow, I’m sorry. It’s big news, having an alien in your garage, you know? I panicked ‘n started to say shit that I wasn’t thinking about ‘n all. I ain’t gonna turn ya in to nobody, I promise. Scout’s honor and all that shit.”
Though the mechanic couldn’t see it, every single sensor array that Barricade had within his systems was trained upon him. Measuring his vitals and chemical reactions, suspiciously monitoring heart beat and aspiration as visual and auditory feedback continued constantly. His imagery array went through each spectrum, feeding information back to the living vehicle’s highly capable core processor, and it was within the depths of Barricade’s brain that he searched for it. Each tiny piece of data he received on Michael was carefully examined and scrutinized, looking for a lie that did not present itself. All within the short span of a few seconds. The fleshwad seemed honest enough, according to his scans.
Hesitant was his reply. “…Very well.”
Relief, it was a beautiful thing! Romano felt the tension bleed out of him at the Saleen’s acceptance, reluctant even as it was. At least he no longer felt immanent death sneaking up behind him anymore. Risking a glance at the clock, Mike figured he’d work more comfortably for another two hours and then hitch a taxi home for the night.
He threw a nervous glance in the general direction of the silent, ominous form of the police cruiser as it sat, wordless, just behind him. Romano had been working furiously on the disassembled components strewn about on the workbench for over four hours, stopping only once for a bathroom break. It helped to keep him occupied and unthinking. It kept his mind off of what had occurred between him and the intelligent vehicle just after five ‘o’ clock that afternoon. Barricade had gone silent after his outburst, and by God, that utter stillness was driving the mechanic batty. The longer the Mustang Saleen sat there without even a twitch the more nervous and threatened Michael Romano felt - it felt distinctly like a child being stared at by one of his toys from across the room. Still and inanimate, and yet it held a sinister air.
Finally, he couldn’t take the quiet any more, and stood up. With practiced ease he swiftly stowed the tools he was using in their rightful place inside their respective drawers, turning to lean against the aged, chipped wood of the bench. The New York native thought over what he wanted to say as his dark brown eyes roved over the scuffed, dented, and filthy chassis of the beat-up muscle car facing the back wall. Gathering up his courage, Michael Romano walked along the driver’s side from taillight to hood, and stood within easy reaching distance of the dust-coated front left fender.
“Allright,” he started reluctantly, pausing to muse over his words. “I been thinkin’ ‘bout what I was sayin’ earlier, ‘n I think I know what set ya off. I mean, I wouldn’t really want some alien government getting ahold of me neither. You’re hiding, right? Hidin’ from us?”
Barricade pondered over his answer for a moment, his anger having burnt down into a smoldering, aching disgust that throbbed in tandem with the beat of his spark. “Yes,” he replied truthfully. “If I don’t, I get killed.”
“Right! So, basic survival instinct ‘n all. That’s why you got upset.” Michael took his customary oil-stained ballcap off. “Right?”
“I hope you’re not trying to sound smart by stating the blatantly obvious,” droned the Ford, clearly unimpressed.
The mechanic squirmed slightly, scratching at the back of his head. It was an awkward situation. “I just wanted to say that, yannow, I’m sorry. It’s big news, having an alien in your garage, you know? I panicked ‘n started to say shit that I wasn’t thinking about ‘n all. I ain’t gonna turn ya in to nobody, I promise. Scout’s honor and all that shit.”
Though the mechanic couldn’t see it, every single sensor array that Barricade had within his systems was trained upon him. Measuring his vitals and chemical reactions, suspiciously monitoring heart beat and aspiration as visual and auditory feedback continued constantly. His imagery array went through each spectrum, feeding information back to the living vehicle’s highly capable core processor, and it was within the depths of Barricade’s brain that he searched for it. Each tiny piece of data he received on Michael was carefully examined and scrutinized, looking for a lie that did not present itself. All within the short span of a few seconds. The fleshwad seemed honest enough, according to his scans.
Hesitant was his reply. “…Very well.”
Relief, it was a beautiful thing! Romano felt the tension bleed out of him at the Saleen’s acceptance, reluctant even as it was. At least he no longer felt immanent death sneaking up behind him anymore. Risking a glance at the clock, Mike figured he’d work more comfortably for another two hours and then hitch a taxi home for the night.