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shadow_vector2011-06-24 08:04 am
Crime of the Century
PG
TFA Inamorato AU
Barricade, Onslaught
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tf_speedwriting prompt #5 in the brig
This…sucked. Barricade wished he had a better word for it. Suck just wasn’t strong enough for all of his invective needs. Even if he added extra vowels, it didn’t help. Suuuuuuuuck. Nope. Insufficient suck.
It was actually pretty impressive that a brig cell barely large enough for him to lie down in could SUCK SO MUCH, but it did. Well, Primus bless the architects, Barricade thought, sourly, plopping onto the dingy, dented berth, for maximizing suckitude while minimizing space. Somewhere, a bureaucrat was happy.
Probably Vortex. He seemed the type. Fraggin’ rotorhead: if he pinched creds any tighter he’d make a whole slaggin’ new element.
And thinking of Vortex made him think of…the other copter in his life. Blackout was gonna kill him.
No, more likely Blackout would curl up in a coptery ball and cry. A lot. Alone. In their berth.
AUUUUGGGHHH, Barricade hated that that thought hurt. Fraggin’ copters needed to come with warning labels. “Warning: contents may give you random and really fraggin’ painful attacks of conscience.”
Barricade leaned back, trying to prop his window-wings against the wall, but the berth had a huge worn rut in the middle of it that Barricade’s aft scraped bumpily down into. His head whacked against the wall instead.
Yeah, no way ‘suck’ was strong enough for this, he thought, miserably, drawing his knees up to his chassis.
And worse than this bumpy berth and the teensy cell and the fraggin’ weird aft smell, and all that guilt, and…everything else screaming like a cyclone of suck? Barricade was bored.
BORED.
Nothing to look at, nothing to do, his comm deactivated, just three stupid ugly BORING sucktastic walls and an energy barrier and…Barricade.
He flopped over onto his side, in the worn channel. Maybe he could just…recharge the whole time. You know, snooze the whole thing away, and wake up out of this place. When all he’d have to deal with would be crawling home to Blackout.
Yeah, all he’d have to deal with. So many lies popped to the top of his process queue and to be honest, Blackout would believe any one of them. Including the ‘kidnapped by Quintessons’ one.
Which made it worse. He could tell Blackout anything and all the copter would do would be hug him and say he was glad Barricade was back safe. And stuff.
So…honestly—and this was a super-depressing thought—there was almost no point lying to him. Just that the truth sucked.
Frag. Couldn’t even be popped for something cool. You know. Out of all the bad stuff Barricade did, it felt really, really bad to be snagged for jaywalking. All his street cred? GONE. No one stayed away from the jaywalker. He might have to shiv his way to the top of the food chain.
Which would…actually not be that bad. Kinda fun.
Except he probably wasn’t likely to ascend many rungs during the one solar cycle of his sentence.
Frag. He checked his chrono. It was well after dark, and Blackout would be getting worried. Probably pinging him. And he couldn’t answer. Barricade whimpered in the growing darkness, especially as the cold metal of the bumpy berth seemed to take forever to warm up. And no deep bass rumble of idling copter engines, either.
Grah this sucked! He flopped onto his back, doorwings splatting flat against the metal.
Oh apparently not enough suction: a shadow fell over him. A big one. Onslaught. If this place sucked any more? Light would start warping.
“What?” Barricade refused to sit up, lolling his head back. Huh, Onslaught didn’t really look much better upside down. Only problem was his crotch was just about at optic level. Yeah…time to sit up.
“Checking in on you,” Onslaught’s face was, well, his usual mask. “Jaywalking. Really.”
“Shut up.” Barricade felt his doorwings droop. He perked them up by force of will—not gonna show Onslaught he was down. “It was fraggin’ epic jaywalking.”
Onslaught tilted his head, the gesture still pretty disdaining, even through the rippling of the barrier. “Epic. Jaywalking.”
“What? Peacetime sucks,” Barricade grumbled. “Standards change.”
A noncommittal grunt. “Reason why you were jaywalking? Epically?” The visor lifted minutely, like browridges raising.
Barricade glared. “You want to start with the fact you made me tail a jet?” Oh, he was plenty motivated—Thundercracker and he had…what some might call ‘unfinished business’ and what Barricade preferred to call ‘future jetstabbing and humiliation tiemz’. “What am I supposed to do when he suddenly crosses the street all zippy zippy?” Barricade ground his dentae. Blackout would never do that to him. Blackout actually thought being a grounder was pretty cool. Stupid jets.
“What are you supposed to do.” His voice spat out chunks of ‘unimpressed’ like gravel. “Not seeing how getting arrested is solid strategy.”
Yeah, well, Barricade hadn’t seen that part either. But he hadn’t thought of that. Who did? During the fraggin’ war, nobody cared about stupid slag like ‘right of way’ and ‘crosswalks’. ‘Right of way’ was ‘who had the larger caliber weaponry’.
Barricade growled. “Look. Forgot, okay? Forgot the Autobots were so fraggin’ uptight about such stupid things!” He bounced down onto the berth in frustration. “Blew my fraggin’ cover.” That was the worst part of it. One stupid slip and he’d slagged the whole mission.
Onslaught tilted his head. “Not necessarily. You made…a bit of a scene, apparently.”
Barricade hung his head. “Yeah…kinda got a little…kicky.” But those Iacon Autotrooper mechs? Kinda jerks. Especially that Cheetor mech. Yes, I crossed the street unsafely. That is not Crime of the Century. Even in shiny pretty Autobot central.
Onslaught nodded. “Clever.”
What? Was it like Opposite Day in Onslaught’s head? “I got ‘resisting arrest and that’s clever?”
Onslaught shrugged. “If you were some sneaky official tailing another mech, you would have done your best not to cause a scene so your lead wouldn’t spot you.”
Barricade’s optics narrowed, craftily. “Yeah, I guess not.” But then. “Why you feeding me a cover story? You’re the mech I’d have to be feeding it to?”
“Suspicious of help, Barricade?”
“Frag yeah!” Especially from Onslaught.
Onslaught gave an amused snort. “Maybe I just don’t want to give you a reason to slip that mission so easily.”
Yeah, that sounded way more plausible. Barricade flopped his arms over his chassis. “No one else does your dirty work, huh?”
“No one as well as you do.”
A compliment? It must be opposite day. Barricade stabbed his knee. Nope. Awake. Maybe they put hallucinogens inside the fuel in these Autobot prisons. He wouldn’t put it past them. Especially that Sentinel mech. Blackout didn’t even like him, and Blackout liked everyone!
Onslaught laughed. “And maybe I just like messing with your cortex, Barricade.” He tapped a code and the barrier fell. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your silly copter before you have to endanger your immortal spark with some lie.”
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copters should come with warning labels... cute
JAYWALKING.. hysterical
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*gives up, falls over, hopelessly laughing*
Yes, crime of the century right there. *nodnod* Definitely.
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If this place sucked any more? Light would start warping. I'm going to steal this because it's WIN :p
Loved it, made me giggle and it's I do like seeing Onslaught with a bit of a spark about him ;3
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Also, yay for Cheetor mention.
I agree with the others, you really know how to describe many, deep levels of suck. I'm not sure if that part's exactly a compliment, or very comforting. :(
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And this is great: Blackout didn’t even like him, and Blackout liked everyone! You make that copter so friggin' adorable. I just picture his frumpy face complaining how Sentinel is "not a nice bot and stuff."
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I'm picturing 'epic jaywalking' now. I think it probably involves parkour.
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