Barricade

It was a lonely night in Iacon. The streets buzzed with passersby ‘bots moving from bar to bar. Some were smiling, some were partying, some were trudging, hoping to drink enough Energex to forget about the troubles that plagued them. You could see the rust forming around the lips of some of the heavier drinkers, too much oil, not enough fuel. It’s a wonder how their sparks don’t just give out.

And then there was me. I liked the night patrol, went well with my color scheme. Most of the officers scoffed at me, I stick out like a sore thumb at the station. Most ‘bot’s there keep it old school: whites, blues, reds. I guess I like to signal myself out. I blend into the night, helps the passersby not get nervous that I’ll bust them on misdemeanors. Doesn’t mean I don’t, but at least they don’t snicker at me the way the ‘bots at the station do.

Not three blocks away are Cybertron's Capitol Building, the Prima Ballista where the Senate meets. I say the Senate, but they're a group of thugs, no better than some of the ‘bots we got working at the ICPD. They sit there in their golden tower and rule over a people they don’t care to understand. They force us into fields of work based on our alternate modes, depriving us of all choice. I got lucky. I’m what others call an Autobot, a slur for car-based alt modes. We get the most freedom in our professions. I wanted to do something to help my community, so I joined the force. I can’t say I’ve done much for my people, but it beats the hell out of bowing to the Functionists on high.

Every now and then a ‘bot will wave or say hello. I normally just tilt my head and say hello back. This place is full of the luckiest ‘bots in the world. Those that were given the privilege rising above their alt modes because they could contribute to society in other ways. We’re not all that lucky. They’re wearing the best paint, with fancy alt modes that they got to choose. 

“Barricade!” I hear to the right of me. I turn to find an average-sized ‘bot, with a garish color scheme that’s almost as bad as his fumes. “What’re you doing out so late?” The yellow and blue bot comes in to hug me.

I give him a small hug back, “Ruckus, it’s good to see you,” I pull away from the hug, fixing up the datapad on my arm. “I’m actually on duty right now.”

“Ah, them retrorats got you doing the night shift, eh?” he elbowed me a couple of times to show amusement. 

I sigh, “Actually, I chose to take this patrol, like it better than escorting VIB’s around Iacon.”

Ruckus leaned in close, I could feel the fumes coming off of him. He’d been drinking a lot. “Are you coming to the meeting on Robbisol? I hear we may be getting a visit from the big man himself.” I look at his chest, seeing the familiar purple insignia.

“I’m on duty Ruckus, I can’t be talking about this stuff,” I hiss back. “And don’t you know you shouldn’t be wearing that? What if Outback found you or one of the other gun-happy Officers?”

“Then you’d have my back.” He slaps my shoulder. I shake my head as the Decepticon walks into Maccadam’s, the only pub that won’t throw him out for brandishing the symbol of the guys we are at war with. 

I always believed in the cause. Every two Deca-Cycles I’ll go and sit in at one of their meetings. I don’t always agree with the rhetoric, but it beats the Pit out of the Functionists. 

I get a buzz on my radio letting me know my shifts over. I see Ruckus leave Maccadam’s with a couple of other ‘bots from the meetings. They share a chassis, one red with blue detailing down their midsection, the other white with red in similar spots. I don’t know their names, but I know their type. And now that I don’t have to arrest drunken Cybertronians, I decide to tag along and see what these ‘bots are up to.

They make their way past the Prima Ballista, making sure to burn out any tires they got near the ground as a sign of disrespect. Rude, but nothing worth a night with Prowl. Still, they trek on, heading for the commercial district. 

Of course, why am I not surprised. Ruckus pulls out an ax and cracks open the shop window to one of Track’s many chain stores. The two other ‘bots run in and grab a load of Shanix from the register. 

“Stop!” I yell as I walk towards them. “Put your hands up where I can see them!” The three immediately transform, with the two I didn’t recognize taking Motorcycle alternate modes and Ruckus assuming a heavy pickup truck. He leads the pack barreling down the street back towards where all the bars and pubs are. “Scrap,” I sigh as I transform into my police cruiser. I throw on my lights as I take after them.

“This is Barricade, does anyone copy? I got three ‘bots heading downtown following an attempted robbery.” I fly down the streets, poor unsuspecting bots dodging out of the way of our car chase. Some officers say times like these feel like an old Clintron film. I say it feels like a nightmare. 

I hear the static churn through my radio. “This is Prowl,” through the static I hear the screaming and cheering of bots on the street, “I’ve got you. I’m nearby, but the crowds are tight this time of night. You’ll have backup in a moment.”

“I don’t have a moment,” I say to only myself. Why couldn’t I have a partner, I ask myself as I drift down a small alley.

In the distance, I see the pickup truck and the motorcycles enter a run-down factory. I pull up next to it. The lights on the street are dim, this part of town has been used in a millennia, not since Kyvernitus Prime declared all industry out of Iacon. Nominus said he would renovate this area into housing, but like a lot of things Nominus said in his early years, this project fell by the wayside to focus on the war. 

I approach the door of the paint-stripped factory, so worn it's impossible to make out what was once built here. I lean my audio receptors in, but the echo inside is blocking it. I boost the levels of my receptors hoping that’ll help. I hear the rustling of the Shanix hitting the floor, as the two motorcycle ‘cons chuckle to themselves. “This is what they had,” I hear Ruckus say. 

“This is a start,” I hear another voice respond. “But it won’t be enough to satisfy. Were you three followed?”

“No,” responds one of the motorcycles.

“Well, actually yes,” responds the other.

“Were you followed,” growls the mysterious fourth.

“There was a cop who spotted us, but,” says Ruckus pivoting, “he’s a Decepticon.”

“A Decepticon Cop?” chuckles the stranger, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

Static jams my receptors, nearly blowing out my speakers. “What’s that,” I hear muffled as I lower the sound pouring into my servos. 

“This is Prowl,” I hear through my radio, “Do you copy?”

I move away from the door, pulling up my holocomm on my arm, “Yes, I copy.”

“We’re reading your signal, we should be there soon.” I hear two sets of footsteps approaching the door.

“I don’t have soon,” I say, hanging up. I punch my arm forward, transforming my forearm to have dual W-50 Volt Beam Cannons. I steady my arm, aimed at the door. I see the red motorcycle's hand peek out the door, transforming into a Pulse Cannon. His head follows suit as I duck behind some leftover barrels. 

“You see anything Reverb?” asks the other Motorcycle from within. The two steps outside, their large red optics darting in every direction.

“Nothing Backfire,” replies the red one to the white one. Reverb makes his way toward me while Backfire starts walking toward the other side of the building. Their footsteps echo gently in the calm night.

“You heard it though, right?” asks Backfire.

“Of course I heard it,” grunts Reverb. “Ruckus’s friend must not be as keen to us as he believes.”

I can probably take them, but two of these guys aimed at me are not odds I want to take. Especially considering I don’t know who or what that fourth guy is yet. I look around for a diversion. Amidst the rusting metal of the factory, a small rock shimmers in the Moonlight, nearly blinding my optic sensors. I pick up the rock and give it a good toss to see its weight. It lands in my hand with a decent thud.

I aim my rock at a nearby flickering light post. With all my strength, I wind back my arm and throw the rock at it full force. There was a decent-sized Clang as the rock ricochets off it, the light flickering rapidly as the vibrations roll up it. The two Decepticons turn and open fire at the rusted lamp, erupting the night in a waft of blue light. The pole doesn’t last very long and careens to the ground with a dull thud.

I vault over the barrel using the thud as sound cover and dash toward Reverb. The ‘bot turns and looks at me, his already wide optics widening. I grab him by the chin, lifting the ‘con off the ground. I hold him above my head for a moment, thanking Primus that he was less than half my size, and slam him face-first into the ground. Reverb reverbs off the ground, bouncing into the air as I charge Backfire.

Unfortunately for me, Backfire was quicker with his response. Choom! Choom! Choom fills my audio receptors, still recovering from Prowl’s call. The three blue lasers paint the dark outdoors with momentary light. Two of them miss, exploding into rubble behind me. A sharp pain rolls up my servos. I slow my pace and look down. Pink Energon begins to gush from a hole in my left side, nearly grazing my Inner Refinery. I place my left hand over it, trying to quell the leaking. 

Backfire takes one more shot, the bolt roaring past my face. I grimace as I go into a slide. I skid across the ground, outstretching my right arm. I feel the ground scrape up my back. I reach the ‘con and knock his feet right out from under him. Backfire hits the ground with a heavy slam. 

He tries to recover as I stand myself back up. I move towards him, shaking off the dirt and the grime from my slide. His cannon starts to glow blue again as he readies another Plasma Bolt. I take a knee and swiftly punch him in the back of his head. He slumps to the ground, the blue retracting from his cannon. “That should hopefully keep you down for a while,” I say, wincing.

I remove my left hand from my wound. Purple and blue Energon have covered my hand, which is never a good sign. Purple Energon is fine, that’s the kind of stuff you buy in a store. Pink Energon means this petty thief managed to hit an Inner Energon vein. That stuff takes a doctor and a transfusion to replace. 

I reach into my back kibble and pull out two sets of Stasis Cuffs and leave my motorcycle friends attached to the downed light pole. Hopefully, Prowl will be smart enough to bring a van to pick them up, otherwise, we have to call a tow truck to come and wheel them back to the station.

I make my way back to the door and peer inside. The factory is dark, with most of its equipment removed. All I see is Ruckus standing in the middle of the floor, with the fourth perpetrator nowhere in sight. He’s holding his ax, his crimson optics darting throughout the facility. It appears he’s expecting me to enter from anywhere but the front door. I wait until his back is turned. I slowly raise my arm to the door handle and begin to charge my cannons. A pulse goes through my wound, leaking more Energon. Ruckus is still looking this way. Now to the right, to the left. Just a little bit more. I see the glow of his red optics fade as he finally glances at the back wall.

Two indigo beams extend from my forearm as I blast the door right off its hinges. It flies through the room, nearly skimming the side of Ruckus. “Police!” I yell, “Drop your weapon!” I charge in, steadying my right arm with my left. I keep my twin barrels pointing at Ruckus’s chest.

Ruckus stares at me, confused, “What are you doing Barricade?” he asks, his voice nearly quivering now. “You’re a Decepticon!” he shouts, loud enough to knock a ‘bot off their Recharge Slab. “You’re on our side! Not theirs!”

“I took an oath to protect this city,” I try to explain rationally. “The only side I’m on is the law. No Autobot or Decepticon is above it.”

Ruckus’s optics grow wild, “You dare call yourself a Decepticon!”

“I agree with the ideology Ruckus,” I pull up my targeting reticle, “not Megatron’s execution of it.”

Ruckus steadies his ax, “the only thing that’s going to be executed,” he pauses, his red optics steadying on mine, “is you.”

“Don’t try it,” I say, starting to charge my blast. 

Ruckus roars as he charges towards me. I fire my cannons, twin indigo bolts rocket toward him. One catches him in the thigh, the other zips past his legs, exploding into sparks on the ground. I ready another shot as Ruckus reaches me. He raises his ax over his head with both hands. The ax swings toward me. I shift to the right, the ax chipping the side of my shoulder. 

I punch him in the torso, sending him stumbling backwards. He steadies himself and adjusts the hold of his ax. The blade comes swinging at my midsection. I leap back, barely avoiding it as he goes in for another swing.

The blade catches me. The blade dives itself ax deep into my wound from Backfire. Pain erupts from my vocal processor as my Energon leaks onto the blade. He shoves the ax deeper. It scrapes the outer lining of my Refinery. 

A smile washes over Ruckus’s face. He raises his left hand. Sparks erupt as he punches me in the face. I stumble back, the force of the punch removing the ax from my side. I fall to my knee, feeling my kneecap crack the old metal below my feet. Purple Energon leaks from my mouth. I wipe it off with my left hand while punching my other arm in front of me, reloading my cannons. 

Ruckus trudges to me, rotating the ax in his hand. He raises it toward the ceiling, perfectly aligned with my brain module. I see the blade shimmer in the light of Cybertron's moons. The Energon on it, my Energon, refracts the light into beautiful purple streams, the color of my assailant. I raise my right and place it out before my chest. I watch as the ax stops moving like a ball of purple light forms in my lower vision. A loud Choom fills the still factory. The ax drops to Ruckus’s waist as I stare into his red optics. Dull Surprise wafts over him as the ax clatters to the ground.

He reaches for his abdomen as Energon and smoke erupt from his mouth. He stumbles back once. Twice. He looks down and sighs. Two clean holes through his abdomen begin to gush Inner Energon. He stumbles back a third time and returns eye contact with me. I see his mouth servos struggle to move, “y-you’re,” he coughs some Energon out, “you’re no D-Decepticon.” 

Ruckus sighs and falls onto his back. I watch for a moment. The color doesn’t drain from his system, nor does he explode, which means he’s gone into stasis lock. I watch as his red optics fade to grey, as he stares at the ceiling.

I hear quivering coming from behind me. The fourth Decepticon. I stand back up, stumbling a bit as my side pulses more Energon out. “I know you’re in here,” I shout, “come out with your hands up.”

In the corner of the room, cast deep in the shadows, I see a pair of red optics emerge. I steady my hand at where I think they should be, and lower it. And lower it again. As the red optics move farther out of the shadow, I see that the fourth Decepticon, the ringleader of this operation, is nothing more than a Minicon. 

The Minicon raises his hands, one empty, the other full of shanix. He places the Shannix on the ground and steps forward. He comes up to only my shin, with bright orange, red, and black paint covering him. I pull out my smallest set of Stasis Cuffs and make my way over to him. 

I place the cuffs on him as securely as I can. The sound of tires screeching fills my audio receptors. A bright, yellow light fills the room as the sound of transformation emerges from outside. I ready my cannons just in case the Minicon called for backup. Footsteps approach the door. The Minicon starts to panic.

“Barricade, you in here” I hear from an all to familiar voice. I see a white head with red crests poke through the doorframe. “There you are,” says Prowl, fully emerging into the factory. “I would have been here sooner, but there was a pile-up nearby.”

I shake my head and shake Prowl's hand. “Well,” I wince, “I’m glad to see you could make it.”

“I see you had quite the tussle,” Prowl says as he scans the room. He stops at Ruckus’s body, “is he-”

“Online, but in stasis.” I sigh, placing my hand over my wound.

“Are you gonna be okay?” His words are kind, but his voice is cold as ever.

“I’ll be fine, nothing First Aid can’t fix.”

“I would probably see Ratchet about that, not an EMT.”

I wave him off, stretching my back. “Did you bring a van?”

Prowl shakes his head, “No, but I can call for a tow truck. I think Hoist and Grapple are doing work nearby. We can wait here for them.”

My turn to shake my head, “No Prowl, you can wait for them.” I pat him on the shoulder.

“You can’t just leave a crime scene, these are your busts.”

I give a rare chuckle, “Here’s the thing Prowl, I’m supposed to be off duty.” I pat him on the shoulder one last time. I give a massive groan as I transform once again. “See you in the morning,” I say as I rev my engine and take off into another beautiful Cybertronian night.