[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Nowhere Patrol (Open)

[Deleted]

Week 1, Day 4
Nevada, Late Evening

No matter what planet you were on, a road was a road. A long stretch of ground connecting Point A to Point B for some, but a sacred place to certain others. For these others, the road was a place to rev your engine, make your tires squeal, push yourself to the limit, and drive. Away from your problems. Away from your fears, and your obligations.

The orange sun dipped low over the Nevada desert, in the process of surrendering its post for the night. As it sank below the horizon, it gave up its heat as well as its light; the lizards awoke from their holes and skittered onto the cooling rocks, eager for another moon on the hunt. One brave creature dared to set foot on the cracked, graying asphalt of Highway 93, but quickly turned tail when it heard the unmistakable blare of an approaching V8.

At one hundred and thirty miles per hour, Barricade kicked up the sand and dust that had blown over the abandoned highway, spattering it out of his tires and back onto the side of the road. The humans called his vehicle mode the Hellcat, a title it rightly deserved with the demonic growls produced by its supercharged engine echoing across the aged plateaus. Alien engineering continued to impress him, be it the simplicity of their transportation infrastructure or the absurdity of the transportation itself. As small and insignificant as everyone on the Nemesis described them to be, the humans knew how to build some solid patrol cars.

Continuing on his journey to nowhere, the Decepticon soldier took the liberty of blasting his police siren as well as switching on his light bar. Harsh red and blue pulses lit up the highway as Barricade sighted a turn a good ways ahead of him. Unfortunately, he miscalculated how much he needed to slow down, causing him to overshoot the turn and jump off the road. Scrambling for traction on the red sands, he inevitably spun out of control, blowing up an orange cloud of dust in his wake. Transforming his arms first to catch the ground, then the rest of his body into a crouching position, Barricade slid across the rocks until he finally skidded to a halt.

Covered in chalky red dust from helm to pedes, he lifted himself off the ground, coughing out more sand from his insides. In his robot mode, he towered above the flora and fauna of the desert.

That was... good.

Barricade looked back at the swath of disturbed sand he cut through the desert when he veered off the road, then let out a rough chuckle. For the first time in a long time, he felt some sort of calm in his spark. This planet seemed boring at first, but despite what his fellow Decepticons may think, it offered far more than what meets the eye. For once, the roads here were excellent. Even better than those on Cybertron. Of course, Kaonian roads amounted to nothing but raggedy shitholes, so how could he possibly make a proper comparison?

This country jaunt wasn't Barricade's free time, however. What was he supposed to do here, anyway? Holding back feelings of frustration over yet again failing to remember his mission objective, he quickly (and correctly) deduced that he should have been patrolling this sector of the planet. Curse his malfunctioning brain module.

Luckily, the task was easy enough. Nothing had happened.

Yet.

[Jazz]

     The two door sports vehicle arrived at the intersection of the highway and clicked on the left signal to turn as it approached the stop sign. The sound of the approaching cruiser drew a pause since usually sirens blaring meant there was either a chase or they were responding to an emergency. The approaching flashing lights stilled the vehicle further.

     Best not to get in the way.

     When it flew past, the driver turned his head and stared as its passing. Immediately there was suspicion. The driver had seen all the police vehicles that patrolled and he knew what the state troopers and unmarked vehicles looked like in those instances when he wanted to speed and didn't want to listen to Fowler tearing him a new one for being issued another ticket. It was just easier to be careful than deal with the repercussions. Case being, this new vehicle? Either it was an officer from a neighboring county that was way outside his jurisdiction so he could have a joyride in a twin pack of new wheels, or there was something slightly more on the fishy side. Circumstances as they were, he leaned towards the latter, especially with the sudden influx of new vehicles that seemed to invade the little town of Jasper. 

     After looking to make sure no one was coming, the driver turned the wheel opposite to the direction he'd been planning to go and instead turned in the direction the cruiser had gone and quickly started to pick up speed. The decision had been made to follow if just to settle that little burning flick of curosity that burned in the back of his head. If it turned out to be nothing more than a joyrider off his rocker wanting to show off that his county had more money to throw to fancier cars, it would be best to note this vehicle in the log of 'don't speed if you see this vehicle type'.

     Fowler would probably like to know that someone was trying to break speed limits in what he considered 'his town'.

     Up ahead there was a cloud of dust that kicked up and the sounds that rose up from the otherwise deserted roadway signaled there may have been an accident. Someone lost control and crashed into another car? An inanimate object? Now there was just the obligation to check it out, less that he leave the site of an accident and not report it. Officer or not, someone could be hurt and last thing he wanted to do was hang his head when the news came on that someone had been injured or killed and he hadn't at least stopped to try and help. Not that there was much physical work that he could assist with, but a call to the emergency hotline would at least be doing something. 

     Only it turned out that it was a lot worse than what he had actually expected. 

     Coming to a sudden stop at the sight of the lumbering giant ahead, the driver just sat there. What should he do? What could he do? Currently he was staring at the metal head's back so maybe while he was busy dusting himself  he could sneak away? Putting his wheels in reverse, he slowly started to back up, trying to be as quiet as possible as to not be noticed until the last possible moment. If he managed to gain enough distance he could maybe turn and high tail it out of there without incident.

[Deleted]

Right before he intended to transform and get on his way, Barricade's audials picked up the low hum of an engine in reverse, and the crackle of slow-moving tires on neglected pavement. The sounds came from behind him, and as he could hear the rather faint noises, whoever made them must be very close. So the highway wasn't totally devoid of other travelers, after all.



It was bad enough that someone had spotted Barricade on the road. They'd come across him in his root form, making things even worse. The human government of this country had allied themselves with the Autobots, making them the enemy. Even still, rogue factions hunted down all of his kind. Armed or not, he wasn't taking any chances. 

While he was slightly impressed that his follower managed to avoid detection for so long, the game needed to end. The quicker he got rid of this guy, the better. Any self-respecting Decepticon warrior would have just the tool for the job. Barricade did happen to be a  Decepticon warrior, and he loved his tools.

With nothing but a mere thought, Barricade retracted his right hand with a soft buzz while he kept his back facing the car. The hole created by the retreating appendage widened as his modified Energon blaster assembled itself to take the place of his hand. The process only took a second, and when his weapon fully extended, he made his move.

"You're not leaving."

Rapidly flexing his torso counterclockwise, he pivoted on his feet so that his whole body could turn just a little bit more than what his anatomy allowed. This left his legs uncomfortably crossed together and buried his feet into the sand, yet gave him the angle he needed. His free arm over his blaster arm, the Decepticon fired off a single bolt of vermillion energy at the hood of the sports car, lighting up the desert as it flew towards its target. The next "round" on his blaster's revolving mechanism easily clicked into position, taking the place of the depleted energy storage unit.

[Jazz]

     Not that he thought he could actually get away entirely Scott free, but hey- worth a try right? He'd hoped he had been able to at least get some distance before things started to go tits up. Seemed that the mech he'd run across hadn't decided to wait before making definite sure to let this citizen know that he was not a friendly type. Heck, he hadn't even waited to check if the vehicle was even a Decepticon before he started showing off his fancy little equipment. Talk about your lack of decency.

     Right, about that shot that was barreling towards him. 

     Tires screeched as the driver slammed down the pedal while the vehicle was in reverse. Tires turned so it could curve around with the intention of facing the correct direction to just drive off from the scene, which left the driver's side door facing the blast just as it hit the road where the hood had been only a klik before. While the direct shot had cleared, he was not outside of the actually blast radius from it and the ripple from the impact pushed against the broad side of the vehicle and flipped it over onto its side, skidding it off the road and into the dusty, dirty ditch. Dust flew up, mingling with the debris kicked up from the shot and sent a thick, red hazy cloud up between them that would have choked any human foolish enough to walk through the makeshift dust storm.

     "Whoa whoa! Shots fired. Cool your exhaust, hothead!" came the call from the direction where the vehicle was. Just as it was starting to settle, the sound of shifting metal and whizzing struts made itself present. Visibility returned soon enough, and there stood Jazz fanning the rest of the junk from in front of his face.

     "Nice to see ya'ain't earned a lick 'bout manners after all this time, Cade," Jazz began as he stood, brushing himself off. He started at the shoulders then worked his way down either arm and finally leaned over slightly so he could get the dust off his upper legs. Not that it mattered much, as his entire vehicle frame was stark white and already was stained up with the dust and debris of having been in Nevada for some time now. Field repair scars tattered up the rest of him.

     Straightening himself up he looked directly at Barricade and placed a servo on his hip. "Usually you're supposed to ask your date out to dinner an' a movie before the sparks start to fly. Unless you're just mad that I saw ya wipe out."

[Deleted]

Barricade expected the car to explode, or quickly veer away from the blast before turning tail. What he didn’t expect was for the vehicle to shift form into an Autobot soldier, and one he’d encountered before at that. Raising his free arm up to protect his helm, the Decepticon kept his blaster trained between Jazz’s optics while he slowly approached the white (and red?) mech. His features twisted into a scowl--well, a scowl more severe than the one he usually wore--as he continued to step forward.

“And I see you’re still sticking your olfactory sensor where it doesn’t belong,” Barricade growled, with a venom reserved for those he found particularly annoying. Back on Cybertron, before the Great War, Barricade didn’t take kindly to rowdy outsiders tearing up the streets of Kaon. He especially hated it when one of those outsiders was an Iaconian. Those nosy bookkeepers couldn’t just keep to themselves. No, they had to catalog every spare nut for the Hall of Records, and upset regular folk when doing so. “Even when you aren’t getting paid for it.”

The moon’s light glinted off the golden surface of Barricade’s reinforced knuckles, and bounced onto his reflective visor. Miniature pistons inside his knuckle dusters pumped up violently, then retreated into his fists, like leashed animals eager to spill some Energon. He knew better than to engage right away, however. Jazz was also one of the more nimble Autobots in the ranks. The last time Barricade got overconfident, he lost part of his main processor. Best not to repeat that mistake again.

Still, he wanted to get this altercation, and the war itself, over with soon. The Decepticons pushed the Autobots against the ropes until they retreated into space. With the general directive to starve the survivors on Earth by capturing as many Energon deposits as possible, it made sense that these Autobots ran on nothing but fumes. Barricade hoped they might have given up by now, yet they insisted on fighting a losing battle. The enemy had even gone so far as to ally with the primitive natives of this planet.

Barricade charged another shot, the barrel of his blaster glowing a deep red. “If it isn’t for the money, then why do you still wear that symbol on your chestplate?” Any common criminal would have cracked by now. That’s what the Autobots were, after all, criminals. So why did they continue to resist?

[Jazz]

     Jazz felt the jab Barricade had just given him about being paid way deep in the back of his soul and right away his visor gave off a mirror sheen as he frowned thereafter. While he didn't have the optics to show his emotions, it wouldn't take someone of great intelligence to figure out that would have been a very similar expression to a glare.

     Small favors.

     The smaller mech didn't move as Barricade approached and merely shifted his frame so that he always kept the other right in front of him. He knew a well placed punch by him could rattle his sensors long enough to make a bad situation worse so he had to keep him in his sights at all times. He made no gestures of aggression towards him in spite of his absolute want to kick him in the bearings for the comments, which was probably for the best considering the weapon was being charged once again. As if to relay to the other that he hadn't exactly come here for a hand to hand brawl with the bulky framed mech before him, he raised both of his servos up on an 'I'm unarmed and I come in peace' gesture with servos now palm out at his shoulders.

     Good thing he was done talking. Of course, not without another 'money' comment. Pits, that crap was getting old. He huffed lightly and tilted his helm slightly to the side.

     "I started way at the bottom of the food chain like the rest of ya- Difference was that Megatron would have rather I stayed on my back and not gotten paid, whereas Optimus gave me a chance to make a difference on my pedes for the same price. Simple version? It was just the better option, cause I was really tired of just laying around and taking it."

     He let out another short scoff, not moving nor cracking so much as a smirk.

     "Don't tell me you're that disappointed."

     If Barricade wanted to play that game? Sure... Jazz would play ball. Sorry, not sorry.