We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Megatron rumbled a short, genuine laugh, and solidly patted Barricade's wheelmount before withdrawing back to the cleansers with the axe.
"You were sparked to keep them from needing to fear, Barricade," he smirked, and there was a fondness in the remark. Megatron flipped the labrys in his hand to hold it beneath the double sided blade, tipping it flat into the spray.
Mechanical viscera, lubricants, energon and mechfluid slid off the sides in a greasy waterfall, shimmering the full colour spectrum as it cascaded to the floor. The gladiator spun the axe in his hand to present the other side and repeat the process, finally producing a mesh cloth to finish the process. Every movement was quick and practical, the weapon unceremoniously returned to its pre-combat state.
Returning the axe to rest against the wall and taking up the mace, Megatron's optics flickered across Barricade's with a thoughtful smile. "I wonder - where would you have ended up if you hadn't slipped up to my side in the dark that day? What mayhem your restlessness would have brought about had you no channeling cause to exert your nature."
“I imagine I would have found some far less worthy cause to occupy me straight into the smelting put they reserve for infiltrators whose brains burn through their will too live too fast.”
Barricade’s stare held the kind of warped levity that assured you 100% that he was not joking. Not even a little, actually. A stare that said he was speaking not only from personal prophecy, but the experiences of the now-dead of his function class. The Iacon police force was legendary for burning through his infiltrator class, so much so that Barricade’s very short run of life was still considered quite promising; fifteen of his fellow function brothers and sisters had self-terminated less than a vorn after being set to active duty after all. Barricade was, by all outward appearances, happy, healthy, and high-functioning. He simply functioned at a level far higher than they could imagine and in way that would break their logi-tec.
“Boredom and disenchantment is a great killer of my design strain,” said Barricade. He looked very intently at Megatronus. “But I have faith you will keep me well occupied.”
Megatron knew enough about Barricade's function class to appreciate that they were akin to swords with another deadly blade for a handle. He held the mech's uncompromising stare, and knew that the cut-backs would be more than outweighed by the benefits. It wasn't a matter of keeping Barricade loyal or interested. Just sharp and purposeful.
"Take care of the foremechs," Megatron finally uttered, picking out the crushed circuitry and mechparts that had become emeshed with the spikes of the mace. He smiled in the dim light, optics flashing in the steam. "And I'll find something else to keep you occupied."