![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
spotlight-noa.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tfic_contestTitle: Rain
Rating: T
Universe: Movie
Pairing: Barricade x Bumblebee
Word Count: 5,164
It was a rare night in the small city of Tranquility, Nevada. Or at least this was what every pertinent bit of meteorological data that he could sort through, detailing the region’s weather patterns for at least the last five Earth decades, led Bumblebee to conclude before he tiredly broke his connection with the nearby internet servers yet again.
According to his online sources, the land area which fell within the borders of the human territory known as Nevada was generally believed to receive the least annual rainfall of any state in the entire country. And from what the Autobot now understood about the relationships between the Earth’s geography and its varying climates, the cause of the near perpetual dryness here was the raised land mass of the Sierra Nevada mountain range on the state’s western border.
The mountains acted as a blockade against the moist air which would have otherwise drifted eastward off the Pacific Ocean. And as a result of that barrier, the atmospheric conditions favorable to rain very seldom formed on this side of the range. So where the probability of simple rain occurring was already low because of this, maybe happening only once in every so many months, the odds of a full fledged storm were even poorer.
But nonetheless, this was exactly what Tranquility was enduring tonight as another loud rumble tore through the Earth’s sky to send vibrations all the way down into the walls of the garage that the solitary Camaro was currently nestled within. Sam’s father had moved his own vehicle out from under the structure earlier in the day, purportedly so that Bumblebee may take refuge from the rain and wind which had only worsened as the night wore on.
Though the young Autobot was not ungrateful for this consideration, he was still certain that the humans didn’t understand that it wasn’t the potential of being exposed to the weather which had stressed him. The storm, uncommon as it may have been for this area, was hardly dangerous to his well being. Even if he had noticed traces of many chemicals and a somewhat acidic pH within the precipitation that escaped down from the planet’s dark cloud formations, no compound that could be detected was within even fractions of the levels which would have been required to corrode his surfaces.
As he was not organic, there was also no risk of developing the compromised immune system and subsequent illnesses he believed afflicted humans when exposed to cold, wet conditions similar to this. Even the slightest drop in core temperature seemed to put their organic bodies under significant risk. But it would take a far more drastic change in external temperature to force his own spark into stasis.
Really, by their suggesting that he stay in here for the night, it was only as if the Witwicky’s were simply responding in the defensive manner they habitually displayed with the other non-human resident of the family. The small structure that they’d constructed in the yard for Mojo was not called a garage, but the principle behind it struck Bumblebee as quite the same in this moment.
The canine was not recharging there right now though. As usual Sam had brought Mojo up into his own room instead. Bumblebee would imagine that they were both still sharing the bed together since he’d sensed no other significant movement upstairs after the lights inside had last gone off hours ago.
Yes, Sam was probably recharging comfortably in the belief that it was only the prospect of ending up soaking wet and exposed to the thunderstorm which had had Bumblebee on edge most of the day. His friend would incorrectly think that the problem had been solved simply by clearing out a space for him to remain in here for the night.
Sam could not be held accountable for this assumption though, as Bumblebee had never made a point to clarify that misconception. He wasn’t sure how to do so when it wasn’t even only today that he had felt this much pent up and almost nervous energy within his spark. The anxiety had persisted for some time. But only with the first rumbling premonitions of the coming storm, had the feeling grown pronounced enough to even be noticeable to his human companions. The dulled explosions of thunder in their atmosphere had started to tug at instincts ingrained in the Autobot since ages prior.
It was embarrassing really, how he could not simply ignore the continued thunder cracks for what they were, and kept only drifting back to what they reminded him of as he sat there alone in the dark. Bumblebee had been born into war, and as a youngling, such distant rumbles were some of the first sounds he ever remembered hearing. Each one possibly signaling an individual he was never going to see again, or one he’d never get the chance to meet at all. Yet from the time that he was old enough to truly understand the world consumed in chaos just beyond the walls of the Autobot bunkers he had grown up within, he had never actually been afraid of those sounds.
But now, just the reminder of that violence made him restless. He was too fond of life as it was now. The day where they would again have to defend this planet loomed ever present in all the Autobots’ minds, but to Bumblebee the personal risk was perhaps even greater now. Whenever the Decepticons came again, he would have things to lose that had never been at stake for him before.
Shamefully, he could admit the almost selfish way in which he had come to attach himself to Sam and Mikaela, and this new planet so foreign from their original one. Bumblebee was the youngest of the Autobots, and though they would always be his family, he could not say that he’d ever had a true friendship among them.
Because his relationships with them, deep as they were, were so much more like what a human would describe as parent to child, or elder siblings to a younger one. He hadn’t ever had peers or equals, or any place that had distinctly felt like his own. He had never felt accepted in anything close to the manner that he now did with the Witwicky family.
It would have been difficult for him to explain this to any of the other Cybertronians either, and so he never had mentioned his feelings or the newfound sense of stress which accompanied them. Not to Ratchet, Ironhide, or even to Prime. Especially not to Optimus when he was sure that their leader already had too many of his own worries to be bothered with Bumblebee’s less pressing concerns.
Perhaps if there’d been any real evidence to support his anxieties as more than just the side effects of protective attachment, he would have confided in someone. But as it was now Bumblebee could prove nothing. He only lingered a little longer each day outside Sam and Mikaela’s school after dropping them off, or circled the streets of Tranquility more and more fervently each afternoon as if he should be searching for something beyond what he could see. And now, even his recharge cycle was disturbed as that wary sensation only grew while the sky thundered to remind him of battles and enemies that should have still been far too distant to matter.
For so long now, the yellow Camaro had been trying his best to relax. But the restlessness expanded steadily out from his spark, even seeping within his frame as he started to shift idly on his tires within the small garage. He listened to the rain pelt against the door before the water ran down to creep beneath it in the form of expanding puddles as the wind pressed harder.
There was really nothing left to distract himself with. Even the internet grew tiresome after this long, and he knew it would still be quite a while before he would be needed to do anything else. It was Sunday night and Sam didn’t have to leave for school until approximately 7:30 a.m. the next morning. Though sometimes they would leave even later than that when the human boy was not yet fully awake or had not finished the preparatory customs required to depart the house by that time.
Of course Bumblebee never minded those days that they left later though, as Sam would always goad him to drive with less regard for the restrictive speed limits then. The Autobot well understood the vulnerable nature of true human vehicles and the potential danger posed to their organic occupants if a car such as himself would ever wish to reach full speed on their congested roadways. But he could not help but grow weary of always holding himself back, mulling along at only a fraction of the speed he had used to enjoy.
As a Cybertronian, there were not many things he excelled at in comparison to others. He was small, certainly couldn’t fly, teleport, or disguise himself with any perceptional illusions, and he wasn’t even very strong. The only talent he felt that he honestly could claim for himself was his speed and agility. Surely there were still those who could outdo him in even that, like Blurr for one. But the skill remained something he did have slight pride within. Because it had always made him useful to his comrades, even when so many had first thought that he was too young to be of any help at all.
But now the thought that he had gone so long without even attempting or needing to put to use those abilities only furthered his uneasiness. Eventually Bumblebee could keep himself immobile no longer. The combination of his body’s tension and his spark’s discomfort were proving too great. He knew he would not be missed until morning, and thus let his engine come to life as he sent out the signal which initiated the garage door to begin rattling up on its track. Sam had once given him a remote device which activated this process, but after scanning the technology, it was easy enough to interpret how it functioned and to mimic that specific signal himself whenever he wished to enter or exit.
As the garage door lifted, the rain immediately misted in across his rear bumper, then spreading water all the way to his roof before it began to run in cool streamlets down his sides. Bumblebee shifted himself into reverse, carefully minding the narrow breadth of the door as well as Judy Witwicky’s flowerbeds just to the side of it as he backed out into the storm.
He was sure that the sound of his warming engine would not disturb his human family in all the other chaos of tonight, but did check on them out of habit once more before turning himself and putting his gears back into drive to begin rolling down the driveway. Noting through his scanners that the humans still seemed unperturbed, Bumblebee only slowed to bump his front end gently against the large gate that led out onto the street.
Sam’s father seemed persistent in always modifying the surroundings of the Witwicky home. Besides the conversion of what had previously been something known as a “carport” into what was now the closed garage, this electronic gate had also been one of the more recent additions.
Yet the device seemed to malfunction more often than not, so the Camaro had grown accustomed to simply nudging it open whenever he wished to go through. Though from what Sam often said, it was built with the intention of only swinging one way. So Bumblebee’s impatience with it, and resulting habit of pushing from both directions instead as he came and went, may have had a great deal to do with the fact that the contraption ended up not responding correctly more often than not.
But as long it was still erect to serve as what he supposed was only a symbolic separation between the public street and the private living area of the Witwicky’s, Bumblebee felt little guilt in opening and closing it in his own way as he then reversed briefly once he was through to bump the gate back into the position that it had been in beforehand.
Once out onto the darkened street, the Autobot was only sure of the fact that he would be leaving the neighborhood. Besides this, it seemed any direction would be as good as any other when he had nowhere particular to go. He could never really become lost with so many methods of retargeting his position, but it was doubtful that he would even travel far enough to find any area that was truly unfamiliar to him either. He had ridden all over this state so many times. Though almost never had it been on a night like this.
Bumblebee let his headlights illuminate through the rain merely for appearance’s sake, as his sight had nothing to do with the light or lack thereof. His tires pressed harder onto the slick pavement to maintain his traction as he minutely began to increase speed after turning out of Sam’s subdivision onto a wider road.
Even as late as it was, and with the addition of the inclement weather, he was aware that some humans would always be driving through the area. At the first sign of another vehicle’s headlights, he would be forced to engage his hologram in substitute for a driver. But as he saw no one yet, it was only his radio that he toyed with, trying to find anything that caught his interest through the static.
When nothing really seemed to, a whim had him leave his dial on a soft female voice, though the station must not have been local as it only kept fading in and out. While the shift between static and an intelligible Earth language may have grated on a human’s patience, Bumblebee could easily find himself pretending that there were words within the electronic noise as well. He didn’t bother to switch to his satellite radio or delve any further across the local broadcasts as he gradually let his imagination run with what was already playing.
In these new alt modes, their radios were an extension of their usual communications hardware. And as lightning ran sideways across the bottom of the clouds above him, Bumblebee couldn’t help but idly remember Blaster once trying to show him how to decipher through the encryptions and similar static over the Decepticon frequencies back on Cybertron.
No matter how senseless the noise seemed, their communications expert could always find the words within it. Blaster had been able to differentiate between what was only interference brought on by a Decepticon’s energy in range, and what was actual chatter between them. Sometimes he had even picked up coded messages from Megatron himself. There had always been much excitement in the Autobot base whenever verified Decepticon plans were intercepted.
Bumblebee could only ask himself if he was now craving a touch of that excitement, or if he was trying to hear Decepticons where there were none as he slid himself tightly around the next curve. He didn’t have to be out here, with rain stinging across his grill and an overly charged atmosphere playing games with his own flow of energy. But sitting alone back at the Witwicky residence, worrying over something he couldn’t even put a name to wasn’t for him either.
Whether it was paranoia or the simple need to be active again that fueled him on, the Camaro only accelerated abruptly again as he came into another straightaway. He simply knew that he had to go faster.
Bumblebee’s engine noise became lost in the sounds of the storm as he revved the needle of his speedometer well past the numbers posted to the sides of the roads. His route brought him farther and farther from the inhabited areas as he darted along the roadways, daringly testing his ability to maintain control over the rain slicked surfaces.
Soon it was only gas stations on the perimeter of town that he was passing by in a blur, and then finally nothing at all as barren desert began to run flat on either side of the highway. The distant rock formations hung almost like jagged pieces of a foreign skyline, standing out more pronounced in the intermittent flashes of lightning. They were almost like ruins in the distance, complementing his already nagging thoughts of war.
By now his radio had gone entirely to static as well. Whatever channel he’d barely been picking up beforehand must have been miles behind him now. But Bumblebee only found himself listening even more intently to the low screeches and higher whines within that static as the noise almost seemed to intensify with the more attention that he paid it. His spark was beginning to pulse harder as well, egged on from the rough vibrations of his own engine until he could actually feel the excess heat escaping from his undercarriage and fanning out across his tailpipes.
His systems were steadily climbing towards that vague satisfaction he might have been seeking, but he still wasn’t going near as fast as he could have. His body had plenty more to give. He just kept feeling like he had to go faster, he had to remember what he was capable of, he had to outrun-
The radio went abruptly silent, cut off with a suddenness that made his spark skip an entire pulse. His receivers had automatically transferred to an open communications line that had abruptly activated almost right on top of him. Only one word came through with a level of contempt that no one else would ever possess for him.
Mine.
Bumblebee braked as hard as he could have, dangerously sweeping himself around in a 180 degree turn that left him skidding and screeching half off the shoulder. His sensors flung forward as headlights flared to life from the darkness and the other car missed a collision with him by only inches.
Fishtailing briefly across the wet terrain, the Camaro forced his engine into a desperate bid to run wide open again, crushing his tires into the dirt as he put his taillights to the road. There was no strategic value in gaining distance now, save for his instinctive need to lead them both into the privacy of the barren desert. Even in an area already as isolated as this, the Autobot could not run the risk of encountering human interference. The other would never hesitate to use their lives as leverage against him.
The angry roar of the Mustang’s 550 horses became detectable even over the thunder then as Barricade finally cast off all attempts at stealth, pursuing doggedly, and leaving Bumblebee to wonder how far he could lead him before having no choice but to turn and defend himself from the coming onslaught.
The reasoning behind all Bumblebee had felt in recent days couldn’t have come in a worse way. This was his answer, too late to matter. Barricade had to have returned to Tranquility weeks ago for this to be happening now. He would have been watching and waiting, noting all their locations and habits to deduce the right time to strike.
He’d been so close all along, threatening everything Bumblebee cared for.
But even Barricade should not have been reckless enough to come back without reason. The Autobots hadn’t even been certain that he was still online. Though Bumblebee had never imagined Barricade just crawling off somewhere to die. The Mustang would never have gone out so quietly as that.
When the road was no longer in sight behind them, the yellow mech put his frame through another harsh spin, angling back towards his rival. Bumblebee knew that he’d have the breadth of a nano-click to transform before the imminent impact. But no matter how many times they had faced one another, the overwhelming sense of danger and inexplicable anticipation that accompanied it never seemed to vanish.
With a metallic clash to rival the thunder, their bodies ended up tangled upon the ground some distance away as the Decepticon immediately moved to pin him against the dirt. Bumblebee’s door wings bent painfully under the force, cracks shooting through even his reinforced mimicry of glass as large claws quickly bid to keep him down.
The last time that they had encountered one another, Bumblebee had been the victor. Barricade had underestimated his determination to protect Sam and Mikaela. But the humans weren’t here now, and the Mustang seemed to leave no room for error. With a vicious snarl that accompanied a rush of heat out from Barricade’s grill, Bumblebee found his wrists suddenly jerked up above his head hard enough to leave his shoulder joints grating with the pressure as the limbs strained to stay within their sockets.
The rain was already running down through his battle mask now, blurring his sight as the water began to splatter over the lenses of his optics. It was hard to make out much more than the glow of four familiar eyes and the sneering maw of fangs above him before everything he thought he’d known about fighting Barricade abruptly changed.
They had faced each other so many times…on Cybertron, Earth, and many unnamed planets in between. Barricade had always tried to overpower him, always wanted to take control. But there was also almost a sense of manipulation in all those prior fights. The Decepticon always seemed to give Bumblebee that one chance to evade so he could chase him again. Because that was Barricade’s sick little game. He lived for it.
He loved it.
But that chance wouldn’t come tonight. Warning sensors screamed as Bumblebee’s body instinctively froze as the other’s jaws closed suddenly over his throat. He felt fangs putting deadly pressure against fuel lines and even more crucial neural cables. There was no question what his fate would be if the Decepticon finished that bite.
Yet when they were now pressed this close, Bumblebee could hear Barricade’s internals running loudly, unsteadily even over the storm. The pitch and hum of his fans and engine rose and dropped in erratic patterns. Even after the chase, there’d be little excuse for him to sound so overtaxed when they’d barely fought at all. Something was drastically wrong with him. But Bumblebee wasn’t sure if this meant more or less danger for himself as his life hung delicately on the mercy of the killer’s whim.
Yet the Autobot could gamble that if Barricade was going to kill him without any explanation he would have already done so instantly. For his enemy to hesitate at all, it must mean that there was still something he wanted. Though it was difficult to think clearly about the Decepticon’s true motives the longer his throat was clamped onto like some sort of prize.
What do you want from me? Bumblebee managed eventually over the same unencrypted channel that Barricade had opened with him moments earlier. Inwardly, he was trying his best to remain calm when all he really wanted to do was fight back with all his strength instead of just lying here almost pliantly under the other’s weight.
But the bite pressure just increased at this communication, making no mistake that Barricade had heard him. The Mustang gave a reverberating growl in response, the vibration almost sending a buzz through the wiring he was still biting into. The intense sensation had Bumblebee growing even more frustrated as shame flared to accompany the involuntary shiver that traced through his body in response.
He attempted to give a spiteful glare to his enemy even if he was hesitant to move his head at all with the dangerous grip still around his neck. The Mustang drug his fangs only further as if immediately sensing this defiance, then easily finding one of the tell tale defects left over from the Autobot’s near fatal encounter with Megatron thousands of years prior. A harder shudder wracked the Camaro’s body as the tips of Barricade’s teeth dug into the scars his master had made.
You don’t even know why you’re out here do you, brat? Barricade responded briefly at last, running his glossa idly across the thickest fuel line he had trapped. The touch was almost gentle for that instant, before he abruptly bit down to sever the line entirely.
Before Bumblebee could even think to respond, his engine was revving in a mixture of hatred and panic as he tried to kick his way free from his attacker. The movements were as reflexive as they were pointless in their recklessness. But instead of losing his entire throat again for his trouble, Barricade’s claws only pierced into the undersides of his wrists as he was forced down hard yet again.
Pain shot hotly through his sensors as warnings flooded his vision while energon began to run free from the broken pathway in his neck. For one fearful moment, Bumblebee found himself almost angry at the cheapness of the method itself. He had always assumed that if he were to die at Barricade’s hands, it would have been far more dramatic than simply being left to bleed out all his fuel.
Yet when no more bites came to rip into more lines and surely finish him off, Bumblebee began to realize that Mustang was only interested in just the one. A sickening discomfort twisted through the young mech’s spark as it finally occurred to him that Barricade was swallowing the fuel as it escaped. The Decepticon was siphoning his energon like some Earth parasite.
Barricade was drinking from him.
Primus… Bumblebee muttered before he could stop himself, having no prior experience to weaken the overwhelming sense of violation as the other’s mouth moved around the line, sucking the fuel greedily in.
But the Decepticon surprised him with another transmission even as he didn’t let go. Your fucking leader tore up my converter. Gasoline doesn’t last as long as it used to.
Was Barricade no happier with this scenario than he was then, and trying to protect his pride by actually offering explanation? It was hard for Bumblebee to tell. You were starving… The Camaro finally reasoned, though once again surprised, this time by his own casual sound in the face of this insanity. He didn’t know what to do really. Maybe part of him could understand the other’s desperation then. Barricade had needed fuel. That’s why his engine had sounded so horrible. He had probably been running on his very last reserves. If Bumblebee hadn’t been distracted enough to become so easily caught, how long would the Decepticon have survived?
Even if you drain me dry, it will only be a temporary solution then. If you can’t convert energon efficiently on your own, you’ll be like this again within months. The Autobot spoke again, not sure yet if Barricade still intended to kill him. He might even if it’d only be so Bumblebee could never tell another of Megatron’s fierce top officer resulting to this.
The Mustang’s engine revved with an annoyance that showed he had taken this into account of course. And it’d be a shame if in a few months those fleshlings of yours ended up in shredded pieces in front that little pen they keep you in.
Bumblebee’s optics widened and he kicked the Decepticon again out of token necessity to the threat. But he did understand the offer the other was proposing, sick as it was. And I’m supposed to trust you?
The rumble in the other’s chest was becoming more steady, deeper as Bumblebee almost thought he heard a dark chuckle. I haven’t killed them yet have I? In case you haven’t noticed, Stripes…I don’t give a fuck about your goddamn organics. The only time they come in handy is when I need something from you.
Bumblebee watched as the Decepticon finally let go when Bumblebee’s body managed to begin diverting the fuel flow from the severed line. Even if it might be true that the humans were worth more alive than dead to Barricade in this case, it seemed impossible to actually agree to anything like this. I’m not going to bargain with a Decepticon for their lives, Barricade.
The other only sneered again, looking none too surprised with the continued defiance. Without his mouth occupied, Barricade now spoke aloud in that deep voice of his that sent a waver through Bumblebee’s spark with their proximity. “You know, you still never answered my question from earlier. But then again I think the answer’s more than clear. You came out here looking for something. And you didn’t even call the other Autobots when you found me. They would have been here by now if you had. Do you know why you didn’t want them here?”
The Decepticon moved closer in a way that made Bumblebee think he was about to be bitten all over again. But Barricade’s mouth only lingered against one of his audio receptors, nipping it once before speaking lowly against it. “Don’t tell me what you’ll do and what you won’t do, you little piece of scrap, when you don’t even know yourself.”
The Autobot was left staring as Barricade abruptly let go of him and moved to stand up again. The rain had quieted to more of a drizzle now as it ran down all the sharp angles of his dark frame. “Be useless and get slower if you want. Sit every night in that cage they made for you. It’ll make my job even easier when the war starts again.”
The Decepticon moved back, deftly slipping back into his vehicular mode as he finished his statement over transmission. Or do what you really want…either way we’ll be seeing each other again.
Bumblebee sat up, watching as the Mustang’s tires spun briefly against the dirt before he tore off back towards the road. He knew he should chase after him, transform and go after the Decepticon like he would any other threat to this city and his friends who lived within it. But somehow, he just didn’t feel like moving. Their contact really hadn’t been that long at all now that he actually realized it, but considering the extreme nature of what had just happened -even worse what had been insinuated- it’d felt like so much longer.
At the least, Bumblebee knew he was going to have so much more to think about between now and the next time that it rained a few months from now. But would it really take that long? If it was only about energon it would. If it was something else…
It might not be long at all.
The Autobot touched at his damaged throat idly, engine letting out an exasperated sigh of air. So much for what was supposed to be a rare night in Tranquility.
Rating: T
Universe: Movie
Pairing: Barricade x Bumblebee
Word Count: 5,164
It was a rare night in the small city of Tranquility, Nevada. Or at least this was what every pertinent bit of meteorological data that he could sort through, detailing the region’s weather patterns for at least the last five Earth decades, led Bumblebee to conclude before he tiredly broke his connection with the nearby internet servers yet again.
According to his online sources, the land area which fell within the borders of the human territory known as Nevada was generally believed to receive the least annual rainfall of any state in the entire country. And from what the Autobot now understood about the relationships between the Earth’s geography and its varying climates, the cause of the near perpetual dryness here was the raised land mass of the Sierra Nevada mountain range on the state’s western border.
The mountains acted as a blockade against the moist air which would have otherwise drifted eastward off the Pacific Ocean. And as a result of that barrier, the atmospheric conditions favorable to rain very seldom formed on this side of the range. So where the probability of simple rain occurring was already low because of this, maybe happening only once in every so many months, the odds of a full fledged storm were even poorer.
But nonetheless, this was exactly what Tranquility was enduring tonight as another loud rumble tore through the Earth’s sky to send vibrations all the way down into the walls of the garage that the solitary Camaro was currently nestled within. Sam’s father had moved his own vehicle out from under the structure earlier in the day, purportedly so that Bumblebee may take refuge from the rain and wind which had only worsened as the night wore on.
Though the young Autobot was not ungrateful for this consideration, he was still certain that the humans didn’t understand that it wasn’t the potential of being exposed to the weather which had stressed him. The storm, uncommon as it may have been for this area, was hardly dangerous to his well being. Even if he had noticed traces of many chemicals and a somewhat acidic pH within the precipitation that escaped down from the planet’s dark cloud formations, no compound that could be detected was within even fractions of the levels which would have been required to corrode his surfaces.
As he was not organic, there was also no risk of developing the compromised immune system and subsequent illnesses he believed afflicted humans when exposed to cold, wet conditions similar to this. Even the slightest drop in core temperature seemed to put their organic bodies under significant risk. But it would take a far more drastic change in external temperature to force his own spark into stasis.
Really, by their suggesting that he stay in here for the night, it was only as if the Witwicky’s were simply responding in the defensive manner they habitually displayed with the other non-human resident of the family. The small structure that they’d constructed in the yard for Mojo was not called a garage, but the principle behind it struck Bumblebee as quite the same in this moment.
The canine was not recharging there right now though. As usual Sam had brought Mojo up into his own room instead. Bumblebee would imagine that they were both still sharing the bed together since he’d sensed no other significant movement upstairs after the lights inside had last gone off hours ago.
Yes, Sam was probably recharging comfortably in the belief that it was only the prospect of ending up soaking wet and exposed to the thunderstorm which had had Bumblebee on edge most of the day. His friend would incorrectly think that the problem had been solved simply by clearing out a space for him to remain in here for the night.
Sam could not be held accountable for this assumption though, as Bumblebee had never made a point to clarify that misconception. He wasn’t sure how to do so when it wasn’t even only today that he had felt this much pent up and almost nervous energy within his spark. The anxiety had persisted for some time. But only with the first rumbling premonitions of the coming storm, had the feeling grown pronounced enough to even be noticeable to his human companions. The dulled explosions of thunder in their atmosphere had started to tug at instincts ingrained in the Autobot since ages prior.
It was embarrassing really, how he could not simply ignore the continued thunder cracks for what they were, and kept only drifting back to what they reminded him of as he sat there alone in the dark. Bumblebee had been born into war, and as a youngling, such distant rumbles were some of the first sounds he ever remembered hearing. Each one possibly signaling an individual he was never going to see again, or one he’d never get the chance to meet at all. Yet from the time that he was old enough to truly understand the world consumed in chaos just beyond the walls of the Autobot bunkers he had grown up within, he had never actually been afraid of those sounds.
But now, just the reminder of that violence made him restless. He was too fond of life as it was now. The day where they would again have to defend this planet loomed ever present in all the Autobots’ minds, but to Bumblebee the personal risk was perhaps even greater now. Whenever the Decepticons came again, he would have things to lose that had never been at stake for him before.
Shamefully, he could admit the almost selfish way in which he had come to attach himself to Sam and Mikaela, and this new planet so foreign from their original one. Bumblebee was the youngest of the Autobots, and though they would always be his family, he could not say that he’d ever had a true friendship among them.
Because his relationships with them, deep as they were, were so much more like what a human would describe as parent to child, or elder siblings to a younger one. He hadn’t ever had peers or equals, or any place that had distinctly felt like his own. He had never felt accepted in anything close to the manner that he now did with the Witwicky family.
It would have been difficult for him to explain this to any of the other Cybertronians either, and so he never had mentioned his feelings or the newfound sense of stress which accompanied them. Not to Ratchet, Ironhide, or even to Prime. Especially not to Optimus when he was sure that their leader already had too many of his own worries to be bothered with Bumblebee’s less pressing concerns.
Perhaps if there’d been any real evidence to support his anxieties as more than just the side effects of protective attachment, he would have confided in someone. But as it was now Bumblebee could prove nothing. He only lingered a little longer each day outside Sam and Mikaela’s school after dropping them off, or circled the streets of Tranquility more and more fervently each afternoon as if he should be searching for something beyond what he could see. And now, even his recharge cycle was disturbed as that wary sensation only grew while the sky thundered to remind him of battles and enemies that should have still been far too distant to matter.
For so long now, the yellow Camaro had been trying his best to relax. But the restlessness expanded steadily out from his spark, even seeping within his frame as he started to shift idly on his tires within the small garage. He listened to the rain pelt against the door before the water ran down to creep beneath it in the form of expanding puddles as the wind pressed harder.
There was really nothing left to distract himself with. Even the internet grew tiresome after this long, and he knew it would still be quite a while before he would be needed to do anything else. It was Sunday night and Sam didn’t have to leave for school until approximately 7:30 a.m. the next morning. Though sometimes they would leave even later than that when the human boy was not yet fully awake or had not finished the preparatory customs required to depart the house by that time.
Of course Bumblebee never minded those days that they left later though, as Sam would always goad him to drive with less regard for the restrictive speed limits then. The Autobot well understood the vulnerable nature of true human vehicles and the potential danger posed to their organic occupants if a car such as himself would ever wish to reach full speed on their congested roadways. But he could not help but grow weary of always holding himself back, mulling along at only a fraction of the speed he had used to enjoy.
As a Cybertronian, there were not many things he excelled at in comparison to others. He was small, certainly couldn’t fly, teleport, or disguise himself with any perceptional illusions, and he wasn’t even very strong. The only talent he felt that he honestly could claim for himself was his speed and agility. Surely there were still those who could outdo him in even that, like Blurr for one. But the skill remained something he did have slight pride within. Because it had always made him useful to his comrades, even when so many had first thought that he was too young to be of any help at all.
But now the thought that he had gone so long without even attempting or needing to put to use those abilities only furthered his uneasiness. Eventually Bumblebee could keep himself immobile no longer. The combination of his body’s tension and his spark’s discomfort were proving too great. He knew he would not be missed until morning, and thus let his engine come to life as he sent out the signal which initiated the garage door to begin rattling up on its track. Sam had once given him a remote device which activated this process, but after scanning the technology, it was easy enough to interpret how it functioned and to mimic that specific signal himself whenever he wished to enter or exit.
As the garage door lifted, the rain immediately misted in across his rear bumper, then spreading water all the way to his roof before it began to run in cool streamlets down his sides. Bumblebee shifted himself into reverse, carefully minding the narrow breadth of the door as well as Judy Witwicky’s flowerbeds just to the side of it as he backed out into the storm.
He was sure that the sound of his warming engine would not disturb his human family in all the other chaos of tonight, but did check on them out of habit once more before turning himself and putting his gears back into drive to begin rolling down the driveway. Noting through his scanners that the humans still seemed unperturbed, Bumblebee only slowed to bump his front end gently against the large gate that led out onto the street.
Sam’s father seemed persistent in always modifying the surroundings of the Witwicky home. Besides the conversion of what had previously been something known as a “carport” into what was now the closed garage, this electronic gate had also been one of the more recent additions.
Yet the device seemed to malfunction more often than not, so the Camaro had grown accustomed to simply nudging it open whenever he wished to go through. Though from what Sam often said, it was built with the intention of only swinging one way. So Bumblebee’s impatience with it, and resulting habit of pushing from both directions instead as he came and went, may have had a great deal to do with the fact that the contraption ended up not responding correctly more often than not.
But as long it was still erect to serve as what he supposed was only a symbolic separation between the public street and the private living area of the Witwicky’s, Bumblebee felt little guilt in opening and closing it in his own way as he then reversed briefly once he was through to bump the gate back into the position that it had been in beforehand.
Once out onto the darkened street, the Autobot was only sure of the fact that he would be leaving the neighborhood. Besides this, it seemed any direction would be as good as any other when he had nowhere particular to go. He could never really become lost with so many methods of retargeting his position, but it was doubtful that he would even travel far enough to find any area that was truly unfamiliar to him either. He had ridden all over this state so many times. Though almost never had it been on a night like this.
Bumblebee let his headlights illuminate through the rain merely for appearance’s sake, as his sight had nothing to do with the light or lack thereof. His tires pressed harder onto the slick pavement to maintain his traction as he minutely began to increase speed after turning out of Sam’s subdivision onto a wider road.
Even as late as it was, and with the addition of the inclement weather, he was aware that some humans would always be driving through the area. At the first sign of another vehicle’s headlights, he would be forced to engage his hologram in substitute for a driver. But as he saw no one yet, it was only his radio that he toyed with, trying to find anything that caught his interest through the static.
When nothing really seemed to, a whim had him leave his dial on a soft female voice, though the station must not have been local as it only kept fading in and out. While the shift between static and an intelligible Earth language may have grated on a human’s patience, Bumblebee could easily find himself pretending that there were words within the electronic noise as well. He didn’t bother to switch to his satellite radio or delve any further across the local broadcasts as he gradually let his imagination run with what was already playing.
In these new alt modes, their radios were an extension of their usual communications hardware. And as lightning ran sideways across the bottom of the clouds above him, Bumblebee couldn’t help but idly remember Blaster once trying to show him how to decipher through the encryptions and similar static over the Decepticon frequencies back on Cybertron.
No matter how senseless the noise seemed, their communications expert could always find the words within it. Blaster had been able to differentiate between what was only interference brought on by a Decepticon’s energy in range, and what was actual chatter between them. Sometimes he had even picked up coded messages from Megatron himself. There had always been much excitement in the Autobot base whenever verified Decepticon plans were intercepted.
Bumblebee could only ask himself if he was now craving a touch of that excitement, or if he was trying to hear Decepticons where there were none as he slid himself tightly around the next curve. He didn’t have to be out here, with rain stinging across his grill and an overly charged atmosphere playing games with his own flow of energy. But sitting alone back at the Witwicky residence, worrying over something he couldn’t even put a name to wasn’t for him either.
Whether it was paranoia or the simple need to be active again that fueled him on, the Camaro only accelerated abruptly again as he came into another straightaway. He simply knew that he had to go faster.
Bumblebee’s engine noise became lost in the sounds of the storm as he revved the needle of his speedometer well past the numbers posted to the sides of the roads. His route brought him farther and farther from the inhabited areas as he darted along the roadways, daringly testing his ability to maintain control over the rain slicked surfaces.
Soon it was only gas stations on the perimeter of town that he was passing by in a blur, and then finally nothing at all as barren desert began to run flat on either side of the highway. The distant rock formations hung almost like jagged pieces of a foreign skyline, standing out more pronounced in the intermittent flashes of lightning. They were almost like ruins in the distance, complementing his already nagging thoughts of war.
By now his radio had gone entirely to static as well. Whatever channel he’d barely been picking up beforehand must have been miles behind him now. But Bumblebee only found himself listening even more intently to the low screeches and higher whines within that static as the noise almost seemed to intensify with the more attention that he paid it. His spark was beginning to pulse harder as well, egged on from the rough vibrations of his own engine until he could actually feel the excess heat escaping from his undercarriage and fanning out across his tailpipes.
His systems were steadily climbing towards that vague satisfaction he might have been seeking, but he still wasn’t going near as fast as he could have. His body had plenty more to give. He just kept feeling like he had to go faster, he had to remember what he was capable of, he had to outrun-
The radio went abruptly silent, cut off with a suddenness that made his spark skip an entire pulse. His receivers had automatically transferred to an open communications line that had abruptly activated almost right on top of him. Only one word came through with a level of contempt that no one else would ever possess for him.
Mine.
Bumblebee braked as hard as he could have, dangerously sweeping himself around in a 180 degree turn that left him skidding and screeching half off the shoulder. His sensors flung forward as headlights flared to life from the darkness and the other car missed a collision with him by only inches.
Fishtailing briefly across the wet terrain, the Camaro forced his engine into a desperate bid to run wide open again, crushing his tires into the dirt as he put his taillights to the road. There was no strategic value in gaining distance now, save for his instinctive need to lead them both into the privacy of the barren desert. Even in an area already as isolated as this, the Autobot could not run the risk of encountering human interference. The other would never hesitate to use their lives as leverage against him.
The angry roar of the Mustang’s 550 horses became detectable even over the thunder then as Barricade finally cast off all attempts at stealth, pursuing doggedly, and leaving Bumblebee to wonder how far he could lead him before having no choice but to turn and defend himself from the coming onslaught.
The reasoning behind all Bumblebee had felt in recent days couldn’t have come in a worse way. This was his answer, too late to matter. Barricade had to have returned to Tranquility weeks ago for this to be happening now. He would have been watching and waiting, noting all their locations and habits to deduce the right time to strike.
He’d been so close all along, threatening everything Bumblebee cared for.
But even Barricade should not have been reckless enough to come back without reason. The Autobots hadn’t even been certain that he was still online. Though Bumblebee had never imagined Barricade just crawling off somewhere to die. The Mustang would never have gone out so quietly as that.
When the road was no longer in sight behind them, the yellow mech put his frame through another harsh spin, angling back towards his rival. Bumblebee knew that he’d have the breadth of a nano-click to transform before the imminent impact. But no matter how many times they had faced one another, the overwhelming sense of danger and inexplicable anticipation that accompanied it never seemed to vanish.
With a metallic clash to rival the thunder, their bodies ended up tangled upon the ground some distance away as the Decepticon immediately moved to pin him against the dirt. Bumblebee’s door wings bent painfully under the force, cracks shooting through even his reinforced mimicry of glass as large claws quickly bid to keep him down.
The last time that they had encountered one another, Bumblebee had been the victor. Barricade had underestimated his determination to protect Sam and Mikaela. But the humans weren’t here now, and the Mustang seemed to leave no room for error. With a vicious snarl that accompanied a rush of heat out from Barricade’s grill, Bumblebee found his wrists suddenly jerked up above his head hard enough to leave his shoulder joints grating with the pressure as the limbs strained to stay within their sockets.
The rain was already running down through his battle mask now, blurring his sight as the water began to splatter over the lenses of his optics. It was hard to make out much more than the glow of four familiar eyes and the sneering maw of fangs above him before everything he thought he’d known about fighting Barricade abruptly changed.
They had faced each other so many times…on Cybertron, Earth, and many unnamed planets in between. Barricade had always tried to overpower him, always wanted to take control. But there was also almost a sense of manipulation in all those prior fights. The Decepticon always seemed to give Bumblebee that one chance to evade so he could chase him again. Because that was Barricade’s sick little game. He lived for it.
He loved it.
But that chance wouldn’t come tonight. Warning sensors screamed as Bumblebee’s body instinctively froze as the other’s jaws closed suddenly over his throat. He felt fangs putting deadly pressure against fuel lines and even more crucial neural cables. There was no question what his fate would be if the Decepticon finished that bite.
Yet when they were now pressed this close, Bumblebee could hear Barricade’s internals running loudly, unsteadily even over the storm. The pitch and hum of his fans and engine rose and dropped in erratic patterns. Even after the chase, there’d be little excuse for him to sound so overtaxed when they’d barely fought at all. Something was drastically wrong with him. But Bumblebee wasn’t sure if this meant more or less danger for himself as his life hung delicately on the mercy of the killer’s whim.
Yet the Autobot could gamble that if Barricade was going to kill him without any explanation he would have already done so instantly. For his enemy to hesitate at all, it must mean that there was still something he wanted. Though it was difficult to think clearly about the Decepticon’s true motives the longer his throat was clamped onto like some sort of prize.
What do you want from me? Bumblebee managed eventually over the same unencrypted channel that Barricade had opened with him moments earlier. Inwardly, he was trying his best to remain calm when all he really wanted to do was fight back with all his strength instead of just lying here almost pliantly under the other’s weight.
But the bite pressure just increased at this communication, making no mistake that Barricade had heard him. The Mustang gave a reverberating growl in response, the vibration almost sending a buzz through the wiring he was still biting into. The intense sensation had Bumblebee growing even more frustrated as shame flared to accompany the involuntary shiver that traced through his body in response.
He attempted to give a spiteful glare to his enemy even if he was hesitant to move his head at all with the dangerous grip still around his neck. The Mustang drug his fangs only further as if immediately sensing this defiance, then easily finding one of the tell tale defects left over from the Autobot’s near fatal encounter with Megatron thousands of years prior. A harder shudder wracked the Camaro’s body as the tips of Barricade’s teeth dug into the scars his master had made.
You don’t even know why you’re out here do you, brat? Barricade responded briefly at last, running his glossa idly across the thickest fuel line he had trapped. The touch was almost gentle for that instant, before he abruptly bit down to sever the line entirely.
Before Bumblebee could even think to respond, his engine was revving in a mixture of hatred and panic as he tried to kick his way free from his attacker. The movements were as reflexive as they were pointless in their recklessness. But instead of losing his entire throat again for his trouble, Barricade’s claws only pierced into the undersides of his wrists as he was forced down hard yet again.
Pain shot hotly through his sensors as warnings flooded his vision while energon began to run free from the broken pathway in his neck. For one fearful moment, Bumblebee found himself almost angry at the cheapness of the method itself. He had always assumed that if he were to die at Barricade’s hands, it would have been far more dramatic than simply being left to bleed out all his fuel.
Yet when no more bites came to rip into more lines and surely finish him off, Bumblebee began to realize that Mustang was only interested in just the one. A sickening discomfort twisted through the young mech’s spark as it finally occurred to him that Barricade was swallowing the fuel as it escaped. The Decepticon was siphoning his energon like some Earth parasite.
Barricade was drinking from him.
Primus… Bumblebee muttered before he could stop himself, having no prior experience to weaken the overwhelming sense of violation as the other’s mouth moved around the line, sucking the fuel greedily in.
But the Decepticon surprised him with another transmission even as he didn’t let go. Your fucking leader tore up my converter. Gasoline doesn’t last as long as it used to.
Was Barricade no happier with this scenario than he was then, and trying to protect his pride by actually offering explanation? It was hard for Bumblebee to tell. You were starving… The Camaro finally reasoned, though once again surprised, this time by his own casual sound in the face of this insanity. He didn’t know what to do really. Maybe part of him could understand the other’s desperation then. Barricade had needed fuel. That’s why his engine had sounded so horrible. He had probably been running on his very last reserves. If Bumblebee hadn’t been distracted enough to become so easily caught, how long would the Decepticon have survived?
Even if you drain me dry, it will only be a temporary solution then. If you can’t convert energon efficiently on your own, you’ll be like this again within months. The Autobot spoke again, not sure yet if Barricade still intended to kill him. He might even if it’d only be so Bumblebee could never tell another of Megatron’s fierce top officer resulting to this.
The Mustang’s engine revved with an annoyance that showed he had taken this into account of course. And it’d be a shame if in a few months those fleshlings of yours ended up in shredded pieces in front that little pen they keep you in.
Bumblebee’s optics widened and he kicked the Decepticon again out of token necessity to the threat. But he did understand the offer the other was proposing, sick as it was. And I’m supposed to trust you?
The rumble in the other’s chest was becoming more steady, deeper as Bumblebee almost thought he heard a dark chuckle. I haven’t killed them yet have I? In case you haven’t noticed, Stripes…I don’t give a fuck about your goddamn organics. The only time they come in handy is when I need something from you.
Bumblebee watched as the Decepticon finally let go when Bumblebee’s body managed to begin diverting the fuel flow from the severed line. Even if it might be true that the humans were worth more alive than dead to Barricade in this case, it seemed impossible to actually agree to anything like this. I’m not going to bargain with a Decepticon for their lives, Barricade.
The other only sneered again, looking none too surprised with the continued defiance. Without his mouth occupied, Barricade now spoke aloud in that deep voice of his that sent a waver through Bumblebee’s spark with their proximity. “You know, you still never answered my question from earlier. But then again I think the answer’s more than clear. You came out here looking for something. And you didn’t even call the other Autobots when you found me. They would have been here by now if you had. Do you know why you didn’t want them here?”
The Decepticon moved closer in a way that made Bumblebee think he was about to be bitten all over again. But Barricade’s mouth only lingered against one of his audio receptors, nipping it once before speaking lowly against it. “Don’t tell me what you’ll do and what you won’t do, you little piece of scrap, when you don’t even know yourself.”
The Autobot was left staring as Barricade abruptly let go of him and moved to stand up again. The rain had quieted to more of a drizzle now as it ran down all the sharp angles of his dark frame. “Be useless and get slower if you want. Sit every night in that cage they made for you. It’ll make my job even easier when the war starts again.”
The Decepticon moved back, deftly slipping back into his vehicular mode as he finished his statement over transmission. Or do what you really want…either way we’ll be seeing each other again.
Bumblebee sat up, watching as the Mustang’s tires spun briefly against the dirt before he tore off back towards the road. He knew he should chase after him, transform and go after the Decepticon like he would any other threat to this city and his friends who lived within it. But somehow, he just didn’t feel like moving. Their contact really hadn’t been that long at all now that he actually realized it, but considering the extreme nature of what had just happened -even worse what had been insinuated- it’d felt like so much longer.
At the least, Bumblebee knew he was going to have so much more to think about between now and the next time that it rained a few months from now. But would it really take that long? If it was only about energon it would. If it was something else…
It might not be long at all.
The Autobot touched at his damaged throat idly, engine letting out an exasperated sigh of air. So much for what was supposed to be a rare night in Tranquility.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-06-02 06:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-09 01:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-02 01:13 pm (UTC)hee ^_^
*adds to cookie plate*
no subject
Date: 2008-06-09 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-03 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-09 01:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-14 05:06 pm (UTC)