A/N: Warning: /Spoiler Alert/ if you haven't seen DotM.
Yeah... dunno what to say about this. I was shocked and surprised, having just come out of the movie theater and I couldn't comprehend the destruction and death I'd seen. I didn't want to face the facts, so I wrote.
Barricade, Optimus, Bumblebee, Wheeljack/Que, Ratchet, Ironhide and everyone else belongs to Hasbro.
I just own my writing. Do NOT claim as your own, unless of course you like the idea of being hunted down by a cynical black and white interceptor.
P.S. It keeps eating the *'s so... sorry.
Barricade felt a heavy hand press down on his shoulder before attempting to pick him up rather harshly. Quickly onlining his battered systems, the Decepticon elite attempted to look up at the face of his attacker, only to find that his optics wouldn't online. Ignoring this major problem for the moment, the Saleen kicked out at the bot lifting him up, presumably hitting the mech in a spot quite uncomfortable, he really couldn't guess where, and was unceremoniously dropped from what seemed a great height.
The black and white felt his insides lurch, and something on his HUD tell him he was falling-no, duh!-before he smashed into the pavement, causing several of his readouts on his CPU to switch to critical. Ok, it was about time the interceptor saw who he was dealing with, even as he heard someone call out to his fellows. A brief scan was all Barricade needed to tell him that his optic lenses were shattered, several sniper rounds remaining in the slots were all four optics ought to be.
"Over here! There's a live one!" A voice called out, partially recognizable to the trashed elite.
"We cannot allow any Decepticons to remain alive." Now THAT voice was horribly familiar, as well as the charging of a great big cannon. Optimus Prime…
"No!" Barricade gasped, rolling out of the way of a blast and scrambling to his peds, backing up unsteadily. He felt his back press up into something that was surprisingly his size, maybe only a couple of human inches shorter than he, and familiar hands place on his back. Bumblebee! And then he was shoved forwards, an angry whistle parting from the Camaro's vocalizer.
The Decepticon hit the ground on his knees, sending grit into the joints even as he tucked and rolled, springing to his peds once more and pitching forward, flailing for something to grab hold of to right himself. Once again, he walked right into some bot, and based on the grill on the mech's front, he could only assume it was Ratchet, the Autobot who had found him. Barricade steadied himself only momentarily before backing up, circling slightly, trying to bring his battered defenses online, even as he paced about unseeingly, trying to find the source of his enemies. He didn't want to fight, but he liked the idea of dying even less. He had no doubt he was probably one of the last few elites on the planet, if not the only one. He had gone unconscious, if not temporarily offline, when the humans had attacked Shockwave's small group, and now he seemed to be in some kind of living hell.
Barricade felt another blast explode near him from a direction he hadn't anticipated a bot being at (he realized belatedly that the Wreckers had probably been drawn by the noises), and as the heat blossomed, it threw him back, sliding into the ground face first (near as he could tell based on the feeling of more grit being blasted into his face plates). The interceptor struggled onto his hands and knees, spitting grit from his maw and snarling weakly. He was being toyed with, he knew that much. The Autobots were hacked, and probably had every right, but they were playingwith him. HIM! The hunter! It infuriated him, and he pushed himself upright, struggling to bring himself to his peds and transforming two guns from his hands, aiming them on either side of him while his hackles spiked up and a deep growl parted from his vox. He knew he probably had the look of a very desperate bot, but he didn't care. That's what he was! All he wanted to do was remain online.
"Leave me alone!" He snarled, a desperate tone leeching unbidden into his voice. "Can't you just let me be?!"
He heard the stomping of peds coming his way from behind, and the Saleen whirled to try and aim at the danger, but he felt a hand knock his weapons to the side and a digit jabbed at his messed up grill. "You! You cruel, awful, monster! You killed Que! In cold blood, you killed him! I'll kill you!"
Barricade felt the rounded digits of the four fingered hand grip his grill and attempt to tear of off. He screeched, and brought his gun around to knock Bumblebee in the side of the helm, kicking him away as he backed off, crouching to lower his center of mass even further. He didn't want to fight, and he tried to make that plain to the Autobots.
"I had no choice! You try turning down a direct order from the Decepticon 3IC! I had to do it!" Barricade retorted; hearing a gun charge to his right he rolled, dodging just in time as another blast, presumably from one of the Wreckers or Mirage, was fired at him.
"Bee, take it easy," Sideswipe's voice sounded near where Bumblebee was. Barricade eased slightly once more onto his peds, feeling the strain of all of this dodging and whatnot on his already battered frame. He noticed that Prime had gone silent, and wished he could look at the mech to see what he was doing.
Actually, being in the center of a ring of Autobots was rather unnerving, as any one of them could decide to shoot him then and there. The small Decepticon knew enough not to fool himself into believing he could survive another blast for any kind of weapon, large or small.
"He killed 'Jack!" Bumblebee projected, emitting a deeply remorseful cybernetic noise. He prepped his gun and charged it up.
The Saleen froze, angling his blind eyes towards the Camaro, trying to plead silently for the yellow to allow him to live. Please… the look said. I don't want to die… don't do this… please!
Barricade waited, his optics shuttered after a long moment, squeezing shut over his shattered optics, crunching down on some of the pieces of glass that were in the way and he tried to turn his shoulder to the direction the yellow and the silver were in. It was a look that indicated he was simply waiting for the blast, waiting to be killed in revenge for the life he had taken earlier that day.
The Chevy gave the equivalent of sighing, an unnecessary gesture, as they couldn't actually breathe, but a habit he had picked up none the less from Sam. "I… I can't do it."
Barricade unshuttered his optics and inclined his head in Bee's direction, a slight relief about him. "I don't want to die. Please. I'll defect, I'll do almost anything, just don't kill me."
"Their ain't much to defect from," a rough voice spat from behind the Saleen, causing him to turn slightly, stumbling a little and pitching forward once more as a large chunk of debris disrupted his footing. Barricade fell heavily on his forearms, feeling his chest scrape painfully against the ground. He snarled, holding back the yelp that the pain caused him to utter.
The black and white lay there for a long moment, his intakes cycling air quickly, trying to cool his severely overheated core. His strong jaws were clenched together as more warnings flickered onto his HUD, alerting him of his critical condition. He heard the soft shuffling of peds as one bot, he thought it was in Ratchet's direction stepped towards him, hesitated, and then moved back to his original position.
"All the 'Con elites are dead, all except you," the rough Wrecker sneered at him, taking a step forward and kicking the already downed Ford.
It was all just too much. Barricade let out a pained, shrill screech even as he tried to curl inward on himself. The pain, the devastation, the outright unbelievability of it all. Everyone but him was dead. His beliefs no longer mattered. The Autobots were the ruling faction, now; and they had complete and firm control over this little backwater planet. Every Decepticon he knew was offline. Soundwave, Shockwave, Megatron, the Dreads… Wait. Were the Dreads all dead? Even if not, did it matter? They were all scrap anyway. It was only a matter of time before they were all offlined, the Autobot's behavior towards himself was proof of that. There was no way he was going to make it out of this alive, would he?
"I defect, you slagger! Leave me alone! I defect!" Barricade snarled as he attempted to push himself to his peds once last time.
"Barricade, I do not see how we can allow you to live. We all know the danger you possess to the humans. I cannot have that threat looming over my head," Optimus finally replied to the interceptor's left.
"Then I'll join the Autobots!" Barricade grit out, the phase tasting like poison in his mouth. He didn't like the idea of joining and submitting himself to the dull fighting styles that the Autobots had. But then again, considering the viciousness of the way they fought today, at the moment, they weren't much different than Decepticons. "I can take orders, I can fight for your side. What do I have to do to not slagging die?!"
There was a long pause, and once more Barricade wished he could see the Prime as he spoke to him. Finally, though, the red and blue semi continued. "Very well. You swear it on your spark that you will join the Autobots and submit yourself to our authority?"
"I do, and by my spark… it is signed and committed…" the interceptor breathed, angling his head downwards, and transforming one gun away, he brought his fist up to rest over his spark as he unsteadily knelt down, angling himself as best as he could towards Prime.
"To the very end, should either I or you offline?" Optimus Prime continued his part of the vow.
"Indeed. To the very end…" Barricade murmured, keeping his head angled downwards as he pledged himself to the Autobots and the Peterbuilt.
"Good… Ratchet, go ahead." Optimus turned away from the former Decepticon and left.
The Saleen heard the soft thumps of some bot approach him before he felt's the medic's gentle hand steady him, lifting him upright as he ran a scan over the black and white. "You're fairly critical, I think I'll need to both evac you and Prime out of here for immediate repairs back at the base. Unfortunately, Wheeljack won't be able to help me now, so I'll try and get you stable before we get to the base."
Barricade flinched at the mild rebuke, but puzzled over what Ratchet had said, feeling his core systems shutting down as the stress of the situation faded and his systems properly recognized the damage he had taken.
"Prime, also, has taken a good deal of damage?" The interceptor questioned, trying to catch Ratchet's reply as he slipped further towards complete shut-down.
"He lost an arm to Sentinel." It was the last thing Barricade heard as his CPU faded, his conscience offlined, and he passed out, slumping forwards into Ratchet's shoulder.