badcop | (no subject)

(no subject)

In the months that followed the loss of the Allspark, Barricade did his best to keep moving and stay off the Autobot’s radar. There were a hundred thousand different places on this miserable planet that he could safely hide, but he couldn’t do his job from any of them. At least until Starscream returned from his latest mad quest or Soundwave came back into orbit, he was on his own, watching and waiting. It was too dangerous to follow the Autobots themselves, so he stuck to tracking the humans, both civilian and military, finding their communications much easier to unravel.

Tailing Sector Seven, though, finally got him something solid. The organization had been all over the place since sinking his dead teammates into the ocean, moving both files and artifacts between storage facilities. During one of their transfers, he’d succeeded in hacking through their security, coming up with a delivery manifest. There was nothing particularly damning, unfortunately, but he caught wind of their past attempts to find more Cybertronians over the years. A number of vehicles had been seized with this in mind, though none had proven to be more than anything man made. All but one, he was willing to bet.

The files on a particular plane stood out, but were incomplete, which was really just his luck. The rest of the hard records weren’t digitized, and Sector Seven was facing termination from the higher ups. This was where he needed Frenzy – annoying as he’d been, he could get in and out of places that were closed to Barricade. If there weren’t digital copies, he was going to have a hell of time finding more information on their records of this operation. It was a very slim lead, but it had one saving grace: the name Wilton Knight was stamped onto the corner of the one photo of the plane that was digital. Barricade had gotten quite familiar with that name over the past few months, and that link alone made him decide it was worth looking into.

He didn’t know how or why the government allowed Knight Industries to operate or exist at all, but he wasn’t going to question it. They were a resource waiting to be exploited, and Barricade weathered the badgering he received from Michael Knight with this in mind. It was likely a mutual arrangement – a Decepticon didn’t have humanity’s best interests in mind, and FLAG was all about protecting the innocent. If they could keep tabs on him without tipping off the Autobots, they’d have their own resource to exploit. Assuming their association didn’t get them shut down under charges of treason, which wouldn’t hurt Barricade’s feelings in the least.

If the plane belonged to Knight Industries, they’d want it back. If it turned out to be an old comrade of Barricade’s, then that was all the better. Either way, he could get the human and his pet car to do the work that he couldn’t, and peel back their own security while he was at it. So thinking, he sent the delivery manifest to Kitt, knowing the trumped up calculator could parse out the relevant information.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was a typical night in the SSC. Billy was asleep on the couch beside Kitt, Zoe had gone somewhere, Sarah was in her relaxation pod, and Mike was in the recliner, avoiding both sleep and Sarah by playing XBox games.

At the moment, he was sucking mightily at them, though. He was tired, but that was fast becoming business as usual. Everything about this job was exhausting. No wonder his dad quit.

Booker DeWitt was idling in a house cleared of Columbia police, Elizabeth muttering in the background, while Mike dozed, one hand still holding the controller, the other wrapped around a can of beer. Kitt's chirp in Mike's ear was easy to dismiss the first three times. By the seventh, he was grumbling. By the eleventh, he jerked the recliner up into sitting instead of reclining and growled, "What?"

"I am sorry to wake you," Kitt said, "but I have received a message from Barricade."

Now that was a reason to wake up. "Barricade? He contacted you?"

"Apparently my display of aptitude with Cybertronian has qualified me to be contacted."

"I wouldn't put too much stock in it. So." He yawned. "What's the word?"

"Apparently he has found Wilton Knight's plane."

"Plane?"

"It is being held by Sector Seven."

Mike shook his head, saving his game with a few flicks of the controls. "Go back to the part where you said plane."

"Before my predecessor was created, there are records of Wilton Knight having built a plane along our similar lines, but it was commandeered by the government when he filed for patents."

"...Shit." His brows raised. "So, wait. Barricade is saying he might've found your long-lost brother?"

"As I understand it, yes."

"And this Sector Seven has him?"

"Yes."

The decision was made that simply. "Not for long.Let's see what we can find in our own records."

Hours later, while everyone else was still asleep, Mike was bundled up in Kitt's passenger seat, soundly asleep while his trusted AI drove. He could sleep when it was just the two of them, and they had some leads to follow up - namely the old Knight Industries stomping grounds in Vegas. In '82, it had been converted into a museum of technology, but Mike knew Wilton Knight's mindset too well to believe that was all he found, so he sent the message to Barricade.

If you're curious, meet us here:, he'd sent, followed by the address.

Barricade didn’t bother responding to the message, even though he took off for the address as soon as he’d received it. He had been right in thinking they couldn’t resist looking into it, and now it was just a matter of herding them along in the direction he wanted. Normally he’d brush it off as a simple task, but the humans had well proven their ability against his kind. Not that he’d ever admit it – he’d just watch his step more than usual.

Nevada was a bit of a drive from his current position, but he decided it was high time to put some distance between himself and the Autobots for a while. A vacation, actually, though the company would be questionable.

Mike and Kitt had, predictably, arrived first. He’d done some research on the place on the way in, finding little of interest. If it was significant to their target, only they were privy to it, and he’d just have to fly blind. At the very least he already had tracking numbers for the company the military had contracted to move the plane. Everything they did was so messy and unorganized he was still stunned they’d coordinated that attack in Los Angeles.

He kept his low opinion on humans to himself for now, pinging Kitt briefly before sounding his siren once. Mike wasn’t in view, so he was either in Kitt or in the museum itself. Either way, acknowledging Kitt personally would make this… arrangement a lot easier. Whether or not Mike believed it was sincere didn’t matter. He just wouldn’t be wasting time defending it to Barricade, and he could play it off as warming up to the AI. Maybe even be a little friendly, as sickening as that sounded.

Shutting off his lights, Barricade parked alongside Kitt, engine idling.

Mike rolled down his window to look across at Barricade. "Welcome to the party," he said, "and the Wilton Knight Museum of Technology, still under the ownership of Knight Industries. The place used to be the main lab, and some of the space isn't open to the public. Namely, the records area. You want information about the plane? This is the place to find it. All on hard copy. Good thing most of the doors are garage-door sized, right?"

He climbed out of the driver's seat with the ease of long practice, flashlight in hand. "Here's hoping your giant metal hands can handle thirty-year-old printouts."

"I'm thrilled," Barricade groused. But he'd gotten the invite in the first place, which was exactly what he wanted.

Information from the source was going to be a lot better than whatever S7 had hobbled together. The fact that they were here was enough proof that Knight Industries had made it, so he knocked the possibility that it was actually Cybertronian down the list. If it turned out to be another fancy AI, then S7's intel was even worse than he thought.

"I can be careful when I want to, which is typically never." He backed up when Mike came out, headlights flashing over the doors. He'd transform once they were inside, if there was room. "Lead the way."

Mike headed toward the door, coming to the keypad and swiping a card through it, following it with a six-number sequence that had the first door reeling open.

The space inside was nearly the size of a hangar and full of antiquated equipment: computers with tape reels, arrays of mainframes decked with lights that once blinked in ways that were indecipherable without years of training - the way things used to work, all in one big room. "Goddamn," Mike murmured as he flicked the flashlight on. "This is like the island of misfit tech."

Well, definitely roomy enough. Barricade stood up once he was inside, headlights still cutting through the dark from his chest. Everything in here was just pathetic to look at, such meager beginnings from reverse engineering what they could from Megatron.

Barricade was forced to stoop down to inspect anything in the room, pushing aside dusty furniture to accommodate him.

"What kind of hard copies are we looking for here?" he asked. "I'm surprised half of it hasn't disintegrated already."

Kitt rolled in behind them, his shape changing to his 4x4 mode, headlights on, and lights atop the cab illuminating to assist further. Mike gave him a smile before starting to look more closely at the rows upon rows of filing cabinets. "We're going old school," Mike said, clipping the flashlight onto a beltloop. "Wilton Knight might've been at the head of the tech movement back in the day, but back in the day, people still kept everything in drawers in chronological order, and I'm betting there are more than a few angry rants on paper at about the time the plane would've disappeared. But I will say this..."

He started reading the dates on the little placards on each drawer. "If this ends up in me infiltrating Area 51 again, I am going to be pissed. Hey, supercar, mind closing the door behind you?"

There was no verbal answer. Just the quiet sound of the door reeling shut.

Barricade still had no idea what they were looking for, not exactly, but found he didn't really care. He stepped over one row of cabinets to get to another, leaving Mike to parse through his own set of files. Chronological order or not, this place was where data compilation went to die.

"Did that have anything to do with those treason charges?" He pulled out entire drawers at a time, finding that he was somewhere in the late 70s. Too soon, probably, and nothing of interest. He doubted the fact that Sector 7 operated out of bases like Area 51 would deter the human, and Kitt would go along with whatever he said. If they were lucky, they could intercept the delivery before it was actually in one of those bases.

They. Ugh. He had the feeling this whole 'teamwork' thing was going to wear thin real fast.

"Yes and no," Mike answered, glancing toward Barricade. "Let's just say it's not the first time me and the government have been on opposite sides. Kitt, what do you think, seventy-four sound about right?"

"Timing is uncertain from what digital records exist," Kitt answered, "but as the first iteration of my current platform was built in nineteen eighty-one, the mid- to late seventies would be the correct time span."

"Kind of what I figured. I'll start in seventy four. Come over here, speed reader. Maybe if I flick through it, you'll catch it faster than I could. What code did you give me to get in here, anyway?"

"Your father's." Kitt idled in Mike's direction, Mike turning off his flashlight so he could use both hands to work on the combination lock on the drawer.

"...Seriously? They've not changed the code since he was around?"

"No one has ever used his code."

"Not even him? God, he was such a slacker."

"Questioning authority is a universal trait among species, apparently," Barricade said. He'd crossed the line under Starscream's 'rule' before, but never enough to cost him his life or limbs. Thankfully he never had any issue with Megatron, since questioning him was just suicide. At least, it had been, a long time ago.

He only half listened to their conversation, making a pretty mess of the cabinets he pulled apart and left on the floor. It was cleaner than if Frenzy had been involved. The drone would have shredded whatever didn't fit the bill to help narrow things down.

Barricade shut off his headlights as he stepped back over to Mike's side. "Nice security system you've got if you can't be bothered to lock out ex employees. Is your line of work hereditary, or just the insanity?"

Because really, there was nothing sane about the fact that Mike was close enough to smell the gasoline and energon on Barricade without being afraid.

"Unintentionally hereditary," Mike answered. "Got in by nepotism that I never knew existed. And technically, he's not an ex-employee. I'm pretty sure you can't retire from this line of work. You just... stop showing up and people act like it's intentional. ...Think I just saw the word 'plane'..."

He hoped that there wouldn't be a mention anywhere in here of tri-helical MBS. That was the last thing they needed, Decepticons getting ahold of that.

"Hm, first records. This isn't going to help us for where they took it."

"That's even worse," Barricade snorted. "He's got access codes, but he's effectively MIA? Most organizations call people like that traitors."

Whether or not they went to the other side didn't matter. If they weren't around to do their job, they were as good as done. Once the next drawer was open, Barricade raked one talon across the tops of the files, filtering through the headers much more quickly than just looking over Mike's shoulder. Though he was blind to what the contents were, the titles were safely stored away in his memory banks for future reference.

"Here," he said, pausing in the next row halfway through. "'Confiscated', with a date that should line up. Give me the other you found."

First records were important - was this thing built from scratch, or found with existing intelligence?

"Things work a little differently around FLAG than they do anywhere else." But Mike didn't hand over the file just yet, flipping through it himself with Kitt reading over his shoulder. Once he saw there weren't any mentions of MBS, he offered the folder up and reached for the next.

The file wasn't anything special. Plans, diagrams, nothing that the military hadn't already adopted (unfortunately, thanks to Wilton Knight's engineers' initial genius) but with plans for an AI so a plane could fly on its own, ethical programming, the whole lot. There were manifest lists for what would be needed to construct the plane, blueprints, exacting measurements - and Mike was already looking for the next file in order.

Barricade found himself in the infuriating position of having to wait for the human, talons scraping together in agitation. Once he had it, he spread the pages out across the top of the cabinets so he could scan them.

The information was a little disappointing. The plane, like Kitt, was entirely man made, further deflating the theory that it was one of his own. Still, putting the screws to S7 was part of the game plan, so it wasn't a total loss.

"Different isn't always better," he said, sliding the file back together. He'd already memorized the code Mike had used, though he'd be surprised if they didn't change it after including him in this little adventure.

The code was nothing without the card Mike had swiped, which was comfortably in his pocket and which would be burnt when they left. Mike knew how to cover his bases. Of course, it wouldn't stop Barricade from just tearing his way in, but it'd make it a little obvious just who had made the door go away.

But Mike was shaking his head as he pulled out the next one. "Nothing surprising. Same team from the eighties. All of 'em are dead now. Then we've got..."

He flipped open another folder. "First copies of the patent applications. And proof that at least some people in the eighties had the idea of how not to leak information, thank God. And what did you find in that 'Confiscated' folder?"

Decepticons weren't exactly known for their finesse, but even Barricade preferred subtly before he went all in. There wasn't much middle ground.

"Those angry rants you mentioned," he said. "Looks like the full account of what went down, minus where they actually took the damn thing."

He flipped both files back over towards Mike. If there was a code in the reports, he couldn't find it. Humans knew each other's mind better, so if there was something to overlook, it would be something he considered useless drivel. Which was all of it, actually.

"Is there any other way Knight would have recorded this information? This a lot of paper telling us absolutely nothing."

"Well," Mike sighed, flopping to sit on the floor. "I could always go to Jennifer and ask if her dad kept a journal. I'm sure that'd go over well. Or it could be that they didn't know. And if they didn't know, then that means there's only one place that would know, and that's the military."

His gaze shifted to Kitt and Kitt, upon seeing it, answered, "I no longer have access to the military satellite network."

"Yeah, and we're not supposed to be talking to Mister Tall, Dark, and Scary With Anger Issues, either, but that's not stopping us."

"Let's not involve half your contact network," Barricade shook his head, baring his teeth. The last thing he wanted was more humans working on this, even if it might have the payoff of getting them arrested or killed.

He was silent a moment, considering the military satellite network. He could try to access it, but with the Autobots watching, he'd be found out in an instant. Starscream had left him more than understaffed on this planet - the amount of intel they were missing because he couldn't safely hack anything was probably astounding. Kitt would likely run into a similar roadblock, but...

"I hate to even suggest this," Barricade started, eyes darting between Mike and Kitt. "Individually, we'd probably get nailed for rifling through the military networks. Hook me up to your talking calculator, and we should be able to get through no problem."

Should. He had an idea as to how much Kitt could do, but Mike was going to have to risk exposing him to Barricade's systems. The virus that had shut down their communication network had come from a Decepticon, after all.

Mike looked from Barricade to Kitt and back again, having to evaluate. "Supercar, what do you think?" he asked quietly. "You know what these assholes can do. And it's your brain that would be risked."

His gut was saying no. Nobody else would stand up for Kitt, and Kitt had become the closest thing he had to family. He didn't want to put that on the line. He'd rather see himself dead first. But Kitt knew what he'd need to get this done.

"There is a possibility I could do it alone," Kitt said. "It would be logical to exhaust that possibility before taking on possibly-imprudent risks."

"Then give it a stab. Anything weird starts to happen, you disconnect right then, all right?"

"Understood."

Not an unexpected reaction by any means, but if Kitt blew it, they might miss finding a better lead. Pushing them was going to make things worse, though, so Barricade leaned his elbow on a row of cabinets, venting hot air in agitation. Trust went both ways, so they said, but he wasn't afraid of what the 'supercar' could do to him. Mike's paranoia was a good survival skill, at least.

"Knock yourself out," Barricade waved one clawed hand. "It's on you if this goes sideways."

The main issue was that Kitt was, as far as Mike knew, still a part of Project Prometheus - and that was something Barricade really didn't need to get into. Decepticons had already gotten themselves into the defense network far enough. They didn't any possible backdoors that still existed.

Mike could've heard a pin drop with how silent everything seemed to be. He could even hear his own blood rushing in his ears, which really wasn't a pleasant sound. That was the kind of silence that he'd come to dread.

It was just when Mike was about to call it off that Kitt said, "There is an opening. I have not been detected."

"Awesome, now we need to hope those records have been brought up to date instead of all this paperwork."

"The search will take some time. The amount of records is extensive."

Barricade preferred the silence over the noise of those around him, although in this situation he could hear the human's heart beating in his chest. True silence was hard to come by, as it wasn't so much comforting as it exposed every sound a potential attacker might make.

"If they have a destination to ship it to, they better have it's current location," Barricade said. "Your government isn't that incompetent."

Too true, unfortunately. Even with the network down their military had managed to coordinate a counter attack in Los Angeles. A highly successful counter attack, which made Barricade thankful he'd been driven off the road before arriving.

"Thing is, sure, they might have its current location, but this shit is encoded. Between you and Kitt, I'm pretty damn sure we can break the encoding, but we've got to find the right bit of code to decode first, and you guys might be able to touch-hack servers, but you're not touch-hacking them here and now. And add that to Kitt having to be subtle enough not to be noticed, which is completely unlike your 'hi, I have a hammer' approach, and it equals needing time." He smirked. "And yes, I have seen that video of one of you guys groping a military server to death."

"It gets the job done," he said placidly. Blackout hadn't made it that far up the chain of command by being gentle with their enemies or their intel. Letting Frenzy do it first would have been a much smarter way of doing it, but impatience had won out. Hindsight was 20/20 of course, and Barricade wondered how holding Blackout back would have changed things.

No sense dwelling on it now. He looked bored, reclining against the cabinets as Kitt worked.

"How much time are we talking here? They'll have it delivered by the time it's done."

"Minimal decoding of the surrounding materials has indicated a span of files likely to include the current location of the plane in question," Kitt said. "I am in the process of downloading the files and falsifying the date of last access of the files I had to peruse."

Mike smiled, reaching out to pat Kitt's bumper fondly. "That's my supercar."

"The process will take approximately ninety more seconds."

"So, Anger Issues On Wheels, how good are you at decoding?"

The nicknames had gone from annoying to infuriating, but Barricade pushed it aside for now. If Mike wanted to see angry, he'd gladly introduce him to Bonecrusher. Lucky for the human, he was dead.

"Easier than hacking," Barricade said, which was the truth. If there weren't any active security protocols running around, breaking through raw data was simple for them. "And easier than sorting through this hellhole."

Seriously, he was going to suggest torching the place before leaving. Either store information correctly, or not at all.

"Okay, Kitt, toss him half," Mike said as he stood, "and let's get out of here. Looks like we've got some info about origins but..." He looked over at the mess Barricade had left behind and made a mental note to leave some kind of apology so nobody thought his dad had actually done this. "stuck in a nice, heavy paper trail we don't have time for. Let's find a direction, my mechanical friends."

After he got the data from Kitt, he pinged him back to confirm he'd received it. Barricade stood up and stepped over the filing cabinets so he could transform back down into his alt mode. Even as he hit his headlights, almost half of it was decoded already.

"Remember we're not friends, here," he said, well aware of what Mike thought of him. "Delusions are a sign of mental illness. Wouldn't want to have to put you down before your prime."

Whatever that was. He waited for them to open the door, watching data unravel at the same time.

"Out of all of the delusions I may have, the idea that we're friends is not one of them," Mike answered, climbing into Kitt's cab. "I only have room for so much bad temper in my life and I take up my entire allotment. All right, hot stuff, got anything?"

"Unfortunately yes," Kitt answered. "The plane was housed at Area 51."

"...Goddamn it."

"But it isn't any longer. With the talks of declassification of Area 51, the plane was moved to the Wright-Patterson base in Ohio."

Mike rubbed at his forehead. "Whole different kind of goddamn it. Ohio?"

"Yes, Mike. Ohio."

"Shit."

"Just so we're clear," Barricade said, and left it at that. Again with the nicknames - did Mike want him to purge his tanks?

He pulled up his map of the continental United States and zeroed in on Ohio. Hell of a drive from here, unfortunately. And hell if they thought he was flying anywhere with them in that cargo plane of theirs.

"Whatever you have against Ohio, it might be a moot point," he said. "The schedule's decoded - it'll be shipping out in a few days, ground transport. Makes it easier for us to intercept, at least."

"...Ground transport for a plane," Mike muttered. "Christ, that poor..."

His heart was in his throat just at the thought of it. A sentient thing disassembled and put in trucks to be taken wherever someone else decided.

"So, intercept or just go and stop the bastards?" he asked, forcing himself into a more flippant tone. If he let himself think about it, he'd just get too angry before it was time to use that anger. He wasn't the Hulk, but rage made killing people easier.

The sympathy from Mike was lost on Barricade. Even if he knew the human was affectionate to Kitt, he couldn't understand why he'd be moved to be upset for a plane that might turn out to be the enemy. Barricade was still holding onto the slim, if practically nonexistent, hope that it was a Seeker. He'd never been that lucky in his entire life.

Besides, being in several pieces wasn't exactly traumatic for cybertronians. Not ideal for most, but not the end of the world.

"Even if we left now, we'd still be cutting it close to meet them at the gate. Catch them on the road, and backup's too far away to catch us."

He could see the sense of it, even if the thought left a bad taste in his mouth. Still, he gave Kitt a nod and the door reeled up for both AI and Decepticon to pass through. "Okay," he said, opening a comm line. "Let's pick a good place to wait for these assholes to go past. Then we can rescue an AI."

That's what it was. He wasn't going to fool himself. This was a rescue, a liberation. Period.

Barricade let his engine roar as he drove out, no longer caring about subterfuge or stealth. They got what they'd needed, and leaving behind a mess was just what Decepticons did.

"I'd suggest somewhere in the Rockies. I don't know what kind of evac system you've got available, but you might want to let your friends know what's going on so they can be ready."

The mountain roads would make a good place for an ambush, though they had to be aware the reverse could be sprung on them. Mike was welcome to suggest a different place. He'd probably only argue against it just because he could.

"...I think we might be able to do better than that."

But he turned out onto the street anyway, looking through the info Kitt was feeding him. "If there's one thing I know, it's military manoeuvers. You can change shapes, so can Kitt. If we do it just right, we can infiltrate the convoy and slip away with the plane without anybody realising until it's too late."

Barricade followed behind, a bit too close to the bumper for a normal pair of mustangs driving down the road, but no one was around to see them anyways.

"I happen to like my current 'shape'," he retorted. Not a terrible idea, though. Mike would need to get the truck driver out of the way, though Barricade doubted he'd be allowed to run him over.

"Yeah, and Kitt likes his, but luckily enough, he can mimic yours so you can get yours back right after this mission is done." They'd seen the footage of just how Cybertronians scanned for their alt modes. It wouldn't be hard for Kitt to flip into Barricade's current form so he could re-scan. "It's not like it's going to be permanent. But think you could manage a Hummer or is Mustang the biggest you can go?"

He's have to ditch his police skin one day, that much he knew, but he'd prefer to hang onto it for now. The fact that it still worked and hadn't gotten him caught yet reassured him that their failure had probably been a fluke. A really, really depressing fluke.

"I don't have enough mass to pull off a Hummer," he said. "Unless you've got something smaller that'll work, I can always pose as Colorado's finest."

"Mm, depends on what they've got as escorts. It's usually Hummers now, but that's if they go full military. If they go more covert, we might be able to pass as oversize load escorts." His tone was quiet as he thought. "Obviously we'll need to scope this out before we put this plan in action, but I know it's worked before - with a gold transfer, at that, so we should be able to pull this off without much effort.

"They'll have a front door and a back door. It's easier to take out the back door first. Big truck mirrors are easier to fool. So we find out what kind of vehicles they've got for their front and back door, spoof their shapes, take them out - shouldn't be hard, we're both weaponised to hell and it's not like we can't be covert - and once we've got the truck under our cover, thinking we're with them, we can organise an emergency. Take out a tire, yank out the truck driver and I'll take over the truck while you and Kitt escort. Then we're just a normal convoy going down the road, just to our destination instead of theirs."

Barricade thought it over, and the only real flaw in the plan was that these were all humans, and he was insane to even be considering this. Maybe if Starscream hadn't ditched him, he'd have real orders, but this was his lot for the time being.

"Tell me again how it is that you're not in jail." Humans didn't know that stuff by screwing around on the internet. With no one else on the road at this time of night, Barricade strayed into the median, taking up as much as space as he wanted. "On second thought, don't, I'll figure it out myself. We'll have to shadow them before they pass through the Rockies if that's where we're going to do this. They have to stop more often than we do."

"Shadowing won't be too hard. They'll only use the interstate for short periods. Less of an audience on the smaller roads, but they'd be less noticeable on the big roads during cities. So we'll plot out a most likely route, keep an eye on the whole thing to see what options they take, and we'll converge when things look likely, notify each other when we spot what leg they're on. We can't make ourselves too noticeable." God, it was the military all over again, an infiltration mission for possible weapons transfer-- He thought he'd been out of all this. With one hand, he rubbed at his forehead while the other kept Kitt on the road - unlike Barricade. "So let's head out into the wild green flatland and dodge tornadoes on the way."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(no subject)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

in case you missed it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvWGLcdI8o8

Oh lord, it's glorious.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject