The Saboteur and His Puzzle

Chapter Nine

When Barricade suddenly sped up, only then did Clinton wish the bot was sensitive about organics in his alt. Oh did Clinton miss the safety of a seatbelt. His head went forward and slammed against the seat in front of him then reversed it's original trajectory. It hurt. A lot. Clinton rubbed his face and the back of his head with a whine.

"What was that about!?" He stressed, his face and head throbbing. Barricade growled. He didn't have time for 20 questions.

"Autobots. " Barricade told him simply. Clinton paused, his eyes widening slightly. A rescue? Already? "Don't get thrilled back there. I'm not letting you escape just yet. I just need a few more days with you then I don't care where I'm going to leave you." Barricade grumbled.

Clinton scoffed. "Sounds like a waste of time to me. What do you even need me for?" He asked in a grumble. He tried rising in his seat to look behind them but only then did Barricade secure him in place.

"Just shut up fleshbag." Barricade growled, tightening the seatbelt. Clinton squirmed slightly at the constriction. He looked out the windows and saw a silver Lamborghini and a gold Lamborghini taking both sides of the car. Barricade snarled in frustration and to half transform. His guns and missiles began to fire and Clinton covered his ears before he could gawk over the expensive cars. Barricades engine began to make a deep baritone rumble. He was frustrated.

Not angry.

Not annoyed.

Frustrated.

He was trapped and he knew it. He would have to abandon the boy.

Barricade made a nice drift, creating skid marks along the empty highway. Clinton felt his eyes go wide as he saw a silver Pontiac Solstice hardtop driving full speed at Barricade. At the last moment, the silver car swerved.

Clinton's heartbeat was racing. Everything was happening too fast. Too much was being absorbed. Before he could get over his shock and scream, he fell limp against Barricades leather seats and fainted.

...

A voice cut through the sound of  crunches of pebbles and the pounding of wind against the trucks glass windows.

"Prime, we got a problem."

"Go ahead, Ironhide."

"Jazz, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker are missing from base."

"Its a large base, surely someone knows where they went," Ratchet snorted in disbelief.

"Oh we know, that's the problem."

Optimus resisted a sigh.

"Where have they gone?"

"I have a fair idea," Prowl almost snarled in irritation.

"After Barricade."

"Are they insane!? Why weren't you watching them, Ironhide!? Have they damaged their neuro-processo-"

"Be reasonable Ratchet, this is the terror twins and Jazz we are discussing." Prowl grumbled. "You can't suffer damage from something you don't have."

"I'm not their fragging babysitters," Ironhide sneered back at Ratchet.

"Well, damn. They could be anywhere by now. Do you have a fixed signal?" Lennox leaned forward in Optimus's drivers seat.

"No, Jazz has blocked their signatures. It's going to be impossible to hunt them down. What do we do?" Ironhide asked.

"Track their sorry afts down! They are jeopardizing that younglings life!" Ratchet screeched in disarray.

"We know that Ratchet, but how are we going to track them down!?"

"Do I fragging care!? I can't do anything about it! We're slagging miles away from the base for pits sake!"

Optimus remained silent for a moment as he listened to his teammates debate.

"Prowl, you mentioned you were an enforcer before the war?"

"Yes sir."

"Can I trust you still understand decoding?"

"I'm fairly rusty, but I understand the basics."

"The basics is better than nothing. I want you to start immediately at our arrival to base. Ironhide,"

"Yes sir?" The previous bickering now put aside.

"Keep trying their comm channels. They may ask for assistance eventually."

"Yes Prime, over and out."

With a click, Ironhide left the comm.

"Prime?"

"Yes, Ratchet?"

"Permission to kick those threes mechlings sorry afts once they decide to show their faceplates again?"

"Permission denied."

"Damn you."