A/N- Alrighty, it's the epilogue! Ugh, this feels wierd to be ending this... but as you can see, I've got a sequel in mind! After I kill off a few of these plotbunnies that have been taking over my house. This is also painfully short when typed. :P
Three years later:
The cop wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, walking bleary-eyed across the parking lot with a Styrofoam cup full of coffee.
Barricade snuck silently up behind the officer, bumper just brushing the officer's pant leg.
Blake turned and blinked down at Barricade. The Mustang oozed innocence. "Mornin' 'Cade," he muttered, turning back and heading for the door. He got a few steps before Barricade bumped into his leg again.
"…Did you want something?" Blake asked, trying to get his brain working. His first cup of coffee hadn't quite kicked in yet.
"Nope." Barricade's voice was bland.
"Oh. Okay." Blake started for the door again… and tripped as his foot caught under the Mustang's brush guard. He cursed, hot coffee spilling over his hands.
The Mustang sniggered. Blake glared.
"Think that's funny, do you?" Blake licked a bit of coffee off his hand. Then he smirked, planting his wet hand on Barricade's hood.
Barricade froze for a split second in horror.
Blake grinned and fled into the precinct, leaving a sputtering interceptor behind.
The Autobots found Barricade holed up in the car wash, being towel-dried by a grinning officer. They stopped, staring.
"…What?" Barricade demanded defensively.
Optimus Prime shook himself. "We need your help," he said quietly. "Ironhide is missing-"
"Good for him."
"-And we think Blackout's involved," Prime finished.
There was silence for a moment.
"Blackout's dead." Barricade shifted, allowing Blake better access to his headlights.
"Apparently he survived – unless you know another evil alien Pave Low?" Ratchet snorted.
"We need you and Frenzy. You're the only ones who have a chance of finding where Blackout is hiding."
"Of c-course we can. But-t why would we care?" Frenzy hopped off his nearby perch, skittering up to sit on the Mustang's overhead lights.
"Go away, we're not interested," Barricade told them in a bored tone. "Oi, squishy, you missed a spot."
After a few minutes of attempted reasoning that the cop car ignored entirely, the Autobots left in disappointment. Blake watched them go with a frown. Barricade bumped his leg.
"I'm still damp."
Blake looked down at him and crossed his arms.
"…Stop looking at me like that."
Frenzy poked at Barricade's onboard computer as the interceptor sped down the freeway, fast catching up to the slower Autobots.
"You're such a p-pushover." Frenzy snickered.
Barricade just grumbled.