Project Reset - the prequel! Part 1
Title: Project Reset - the prequel! (1/?)
Characters: Barricade, First Aid
Universe: movie-verse, post "Dark of the Moon" AU Heavily inspired by antepathy's fic, Chance, and now also this bit of Starscreamy awesomeness: Desert
Rating: K+
Word Count: 1183
Warnings: DOTM spoilers, minor violence, twiddling with Bayverse 'bot characterizations to suit my Nefarious Plans.
Summary: Two years after the events of DOTM, Barricade requires assistance.
Barricade couldn’t believe his luck. Only utter desperation had driven him here, to the outskirts of one of the new Autobot bases, built, so he'd picked up from the news feeds, to help the humans cope with the strange tectonic activity in what had until recently been one of the more stable land areas of the planet. He'd had only a half-formatted plan of stealing energon, sneaking in past the detectors and searching for medical supplies, with wild, irrational thoughts of taking the Autobot medic hostage and forcing him to perform repairs chasing through the back of his processor. Even were he in perfect functioning condition, however, Ratchet would have been a formidable opponent. In his present state…he’d be lucky if all his limbs remained attached when he tried to transform. He looked almost as bad as Megatron had, in those final days, and the constant ache and deterioration of his frame was near to driving him mad.
The mech he was watching from his hiding place was obviously a medic, undoubtedly a new arrival, with both human and Cybertronian medical insignias marking his chassis, but he was anything but formidable. As far as Barricade could tell he carried no weapons, and his attention was entirely focused on the small group of humans and their pathetic, squirming offspring. A sitting target. The Autobots had grown soft and careless, apparently, in the two years he’d been in hiding. All the better for him.
The medic inspected the vaguely repulsive larval creature in his hand, and then jiggled it a few times causing it to make loud shrieking sounds and flail its small appendages. Barricade straightened in surprise, suddenly not quite so certain of his initial assessment of the mech, but the larger, parental units laughed in approval, at which point Barricade realized the sounds indicated enjoyment of the procedure rather than abject terror. The medic returned the flesh creature to the arms of its parents and spent a few more moments in laughing conversation, most of which seemed to involve convincing ‘Cee Cee’ to ‘wave bye bye to nice Mr. First Aid.’ Barricade felt his tank shift and churn uncomfortably, though whether from repulsion at the sickening display or from the several gallons of biodiesel he’d consumed earlier that morning he wasn’t sure.
The medic, First Aid (Barricade’s mouth twitched in a sneer. Such a typical goody goody Autobot designation), rose when humans had departed, and wandered towards Barricade’s position, smiling skyward at something, sun, trees, or some such sentimental slag, or perhaps a distant helicopter. No witnesses, practically walking into his arms, almost as if the Autobot was handing himself over on an energon cake platter. Barricade gathered himself, wincing at the creaking sounds from his corroded joints, and then sprang out of the alley, yanking the medic by one arm before he could react, sweeping his legs out from under him and smashing his helm against the pavement several times until he went limp. It was over in mere kliks; his victim hadn't had time to offer even token resistance. He dragged the offline medic deeper into the alley for cover, and quickly clamped one of Soundwave’s signal disrupters on his back armor, blocking communications and shielding the medic’s energy signature from any that might notice his absence and come searching for him.
He then settled back and waited for the medic to online and to let his own systems recover; even that small exertion had his engine straining and making worrisome sputtering sounds. One side of the medic's visor was cracked from the impact with the pavement, flickering slightly although the optics behind it were dark. Just as he was beginning to wonder if he’d been a little too enthusiastic in taking him down (and damn, that had felt good, to act as a real Decepticon again instead of a lurking coward, but for his purposes the mech would need to stay at least mostly operational), the medic let out a small, staticky groan and his optics glimmered with an unsteady blue light.
“On your feet, Autobot scum.” He prodded the medic roughly in the side with his foot spikes to make his point, and then signaled the disrupter. The medic yelped and twisted, grabbing futilely at his back at the jolt, and then scrambled to his knees as Barricade prodded him again.
“You will not speak. You will do exactly as I say, or be deactivated, do you understand?”
The medic gingerly touched the side of his helm as his optics focused on the mech looming over him, and then, inexplicably, a hint of a smile lifted his mouthplates.
“Barricade. We’ve been looking for you.” Barricade growled in warning and lifted his hand to strike, and the medic blinked up at him, his expression briefly perplexed and then lifted his hands in apologetic understanding. “Oh dear, of course, I’m so sorry. No talking. I’m at your service, then, by all means. What would you like me to do?” From behind the cracked visor his optics scanned over Barricade’s frame and his mouthplates pursed together, one hand going to a panel on his side as if to open it. Barricade growled another warning and the medic carefully returned his hand to its former position and offered no further insolence, keeping his optics focused on Barricade’s face like a cadet waiting instructions.
“Transform. Maintain a distance of one quarter span in front of me and follow my directions exactly. Any deviation or attempt to signal for help, and it will be not just you who meets deactivation, but all others in your vicinity.”
“I see. Very well.”
Barricade frowned, but the other folded himself slowly but compliantly enough into alt mode and rolled the designated distance in front of him, waiting patiently. Barricade tried not be jealous of the smoothness of the transformation as he painfully forced himself into alt mode as well.
“Turn left. Straight through town until we reach State Road 38.” The sky was already darkening. No one would look twice at an ambulance being followed by a battered police cruiser along the thinly populated country roads of central Indiana. Barricade was puzzled by the sound of a helicopter (it had a familiar cadence, but Blackout was gone, like they were all gone, everyone but him...) but the sound soon faded, and his prisoner followed his directions obediently (and silently).
The medic pulled to a stop in front of the abandoned barn and transformed at Barricade’s order, looking around him with interest and making a friendly chirring sound at one of the feral cats brave enough to investigate the new arrival. He gave Barricade a questioning look, seemingly unconcerned about his probable fate, for all the world as if Barricade had invited him over to hang out with a few cubes of high grade and where would he like him to park the coolant barrels…? Either the blow to the helm had rattled his circuits or he was naturally this dim-witted. Barricade pulled open the barn door and shoved the medic inside, illuminating the dark interior with his headlamps. The inhabitants responded with a chorus of ecstatic meeping sounds and a few of them, those still able to move, began trying to crawl weakly towards him.
“Fix them,” he said harshly. “Or you die.”
A/N: So, in trying to go forward with the next chapter of this, I discovered one of the hazards of 'writing as you go' - I couldn't really do much until I went back and figured out what the heck had been going on beforehand. This involved trying to make some rational sense of the DOTM movie/book plotline and characterizations @_@ at which I failed miserably. For the sake of this fic, just assume that things happened such that things happening here make some sort of sense, k?
Characters: Barricade, First Aid
Universe: movie-verse, post "Dark of the Moon" AU Heavily inspired by antepathy's fic, Chance, and now also this bit of Starscreamy awesomeness: Desert
Rating: K+
Word Count: 1183
Warnings: DOTM spoilers, minor violence, twiddling with Bayverse 'bot characterizations to suit my Nefarious Plans.
Summary: Two years after the events of DOTM, Barricade requires assistance.
Barricade couldn’t believe his luck. Only utter desperation had driven him here, to the outskirts of one of the new Autobot bases, built, so he'd picked up from the news feeds, to help the humans cope with the strange tectonic activity in what had until recently been one of the more stable land areas of the planet. He'd had only a half-formatted plan of stealing energon, sneaking in past the detectors and searching for medical supplies, with wild, irrational thoughts of taking the Autobot medic hostage and forcing him to perform repairs chasing through the back of his processor. Even were he in perfect functioning condition, however, Ratchet would have been a formidable opponent. In his present state…he’d be lucky if all his limbs remained attached when he tried to transform. He looked almost as bad as Megatron had, in those final days, and the constant ache and deterioration of his frame was near to driving him mad.
The mech he was watching from his hiding place was obviously a medic, undoubtedly a new arrival, with both human and Cybertronian medical insignias marking his chassis, but he was anything but formidable. As far as Barricade could tell he carried no weapons, and his attention was entirely focused on the small group of humans and their pathetic, squirming offspring. A sitting target. The Autobots had grown soft and careless, apparently, in the two years he’d been in hiding. All the better for him.
The medic inspected the vaguely repulsive larval creature in his hand, and then jiggled it a few times causing it to make loud shrieking sounds and flail its small appendages. Barricade straightened in surprise, suddenly not quite so certain of his initial assessment of the mech, but the larger, parental units laughed in approval, at which point Barricade realized the sounds indicated enjoyment of the procedure rather than abject terror. The medic returned the flesh creature to the arms of its parents and spent a few more moments in laughing conversation, most of which seemed to involve convincing ‘Cee Cee’ to ‘wave bye bye to nice Mr. First Aid.’ Barricade felt his tank shift and churn uncomfortably, though whether from repulsion at the sickening display or from the several gallons of biodiesel he’d consumed earlier that morning he wasn’t sure.
The medic, First Aid (Barricade’s mouth twitched in a sneer. Such a typical goody goody Autobot designation), rose when humans had departed, and wandered towards Barricade’s position, smiling skyward at something, sun, trees, or some such sentimental slag, or perhaps a distant helicopter. No witnesses, practically walking into his arms, almost as if the Autobot was handing himself over on an energon cake platter. Barricade gathered himself, wincing at the creaking sounds from his corroded joints, and then sprang out of the alley, yanking the medic by one arm before he could react, sweeping his legs out from under him and smashing his helm against the pavement several times until he went limp. It was over in mere kliks; his victim hadn't had time to offer even token resistance. He dragged the offline medic deeper into the alley for cover, and quickly clamped one of Soundwave’s signal disrupters on his back armor, blocking communications and shielding the medic’s energy signature from any that might notice his absence and come searching for him.
He then settled back and waited for the medic to online and to let his own systems recover; even that small exertion had his engine straining and making worrisome sputtering sounds. One side of the medic's visor was cracked from the impact with the pavement, flickering slightly although the optics behind it were dark. Just as he was beginning to wonder if he’d been a little too enthusiastic in taking him down (and damn, that had felt good, to act as a real Decepticon again instead of a lurking coward, but for his purposes the mech would need to stay at least mostly operational), the medic let out a small, staticky groan and his optics glimmered with an unsteady blue light.
“On your feet, Autobot scum.” He prodded the medic roughly in the side with his foot spikes to make his point, and then signaled the disrupter. The medic yelped and twisted, grabbing futilely at his back at the jolt, and then scrambled to his knees as Barricade prodded him again.
“You will not speak. You will do exactly as I say, or be deactivated, do you understand?”
The medic gingerly touched the side of his helm as his optics focused on the mech looming over him, and then, inexplicably, a hint of a smile lifted his mouthplates.
“Barricade. We’ve been looking for you.” Barricade growled in warning and lifted his hand to strike, and the medic blinked up at him, his expression briefly perplexed and then lifted his hands in apologetic understanding. “Oh dear, of course, I’m so sorry. No talking. I’m at your service, then, by all means. What would you like me to do?” From behind the cracked visor his optics scanned over Barricade’s frame and his mouthplates pursed together, one hand going to a panel on his side as if to open it. Barricade growled another warning and the medic carefully returned his hand to its former position and offered no further insolence, keeping his optics focused on Barricade’s face like a cadet waiting instructions.
“Transform. Maintain a distance of one quarter span in front of me and follow my directions exactly. Any deviation or attempt to signal for help, and it will be not just you who meets deactivation, but all others in your vicinity.”
“I see. Very well.”
Barricade frowned, but the other folded himself slowly but compliantly enough into alt mode and rolled the designated distance in front of him, waiting patiently. Barricade tried not be jealous of the smoothness of the transformation as he painfully forced himself into alt mode as well.
“Turn left. Straight through town until we reach State Road 38.” The sky was already darkening. No one would look twice at an ambulance being followed by a battered police cruiser along the thinly populated country roads of central Indiana. Barricade was puzzled by the sound of a helicopter (it had a familiar cadence, but Blackout was gone, like they were all gone, everyone but him...) but the sound soon faded, and his prisoner followed his directions obediently (and silently).
The medic pulled to a stop in front of the abandoned barn and transformed at Barricade’s order, looking around him with interest and making a friendly chirring sound at one of the feral cats brave enough to investigate the new arrival. He gave Barricade a questioning look, seemingly unconcerned about his probable fate, for all the world as if Barricade had invited him over to hang out with a few cubes of high grade and where would he like him to park the coolant barrels…? Either the blow to the helm had rattled his circuits or he was naturally this dim-witted. Barricade pulled open the barn door and shoved the medic inside, illuminating the dark interior with his headlamps. The inhabitants responded with a chorus of ecstatic meeping sounds and a few of them, those still able to move, began trying to crawl weakly towards him.
“Fix them,” he said harshly. “Or you die.”
A/N: So, in trying to go forward with the next chapter of this, I discovered one of the hazards of 'writing as you go' - I couldn't really do much until I went back and figured out what the heck had been going on beforehand. This involved trying to make some rational sense of the DOTM movie/book plotline and characterizations @_@ at which I failed miserably. For the sake of this fic, just assume that things happened such that things happening here make some sort of sense, k?