TF Backstories: Reality

Chapter 13: Wreckage

Fragging autoscum.

Barricade seethed as he paced the brig like a caged tiger. He had been unceremoniously thrown back into his cell after Ratchet had rushed out of the med-bay. After that, he hadn't seen helm or aft of any of the 'bots for nearly two days. No word regarding the human femme either. They would usually be badgering him about her around this time of the week.

"...flatlined..."

That was the word the human medic had used. That meant that she had offlined.

Temporarily at least.

He subconsciously put a clawed hand over his chest, tracing the scorch marks that criscrossed his armor. If she were really dead, the Autobot weapons' specialist would have definitely blasted a hole in his chassis.

Perhaps the medic would have sawn his arms off... Maybe his pedes too... The decepticon had observed that the CMO had gotten quite attached to his human patient.

Barricade hissed as his claws reached the injury in his side that the autobot medic was working on. The mech's little slip would cost him a few more extra days of pain, but the injury would be fully healed soon enough.

Strange.

Even the CMO would have come to check on him after his mistake. He was not one to leave his work unfinished. The medic was nothing if not meticulous. Something must have happened to change their routine-

Squeak.

The decepticon hunter paused his musing, his helm turning to locate the source of the small noise.

Squeeaaak. Squeak...

There it was again.

Beyond the continuous hum of the shield that kept him trapped, the small metallic sounds seemed to be coming from the large hallway outside. He stared at the lower corner of the opening to his cell, the wall of energy blocking the doorway tinting the other side a pale blue, as the squeaking continued to come slowly closer.

Squeak squeak squeak.

Whatever it was, it would pass by soon-

A messy head of dark hair peeked through the bluish tint, a flash of white teeth showing as a grin formed.

"'Barricade!" The young femme greeted loudly, voice echoing down the hall slightly, eyes seemingly lighting up with her foolish glee. The fleshie must have realized how loud her vocalization was so she repeated her greeting in a softer tone. "Cade!"

The mech raised an optic ridge, his inner chronometer told him that it was well into the night. She should have been in recharge in the human medbay. "Obviously all the fleshbags in this base must be incompetent if they allowed you to roam the brig." He said flatly.

The girl flopped down to the floor in front of his cell, crossing her legs. "I'm glad you're okay too." She rolled her eyes at the Con's tone, but her smile did not falter. Her expression turned somewhat serious when she stared at his slightly charred chassis though.

"Looks like they patched you up." She said, though the end of her statement almost seemed like a question.

His optics moved down to look at the blackened metal, streaks of grey showing where the paint had scraped off. "Slagging medic's servo slipped when he was finishing the weld. Amateur mistake." Barricade growled. His ruby gaze then went to the femme who was still sitting in front of his cell with a stupid smile once again on her face, her chin resting in her hands as she looked at him.

"What in the pit are you staring at, femme?" He snapped.

"Nothing. You're obviously okay because you're being classic grouchy Barricade." She shrugged, chuckling a bit.