A Kindred Spirit

The interrogation room is empty and cold, and with lights dimmed, the setting is eerie as eerie gets. 
 And then, the sound of quiet footsteps padding down the hallway can be heard. 
 Perhaps it's an Enforcer? Or, perhaps its the cruel empurata victim named Whirl who had committed unforgivable sins to the young Decepticon Pursuit earlier. 
 But no, the footsteps are too soft, too timid. Whoever it is, must be lightweight. And orange with glasses, apparently. With very distinctive eyebrows.
Swivel had been sitting in the room for a while, swinging her legs in the single chair provided, and looking around. Not much to see really. It's kind of a boring room. But the femme doesn't seem overly bothered. She just has a wide-opticked look of curiousity about her. And this expression grows with intensity as she hears someone approach. The femme's posture straightens, then she sticks her neck out slightly, reaching her head towards the door in anticipation.
The orange psychiatrist smiles gently at Swivel, his autobot insignia apparent. His demeanor is perhaps very different from any of the other Autobots Swivel may have met previously. 
 "Hello," he says kindly, and she'll notice he's brought a chair with him, one that looks a great deal more comfortable than the one she's sitting in. He unfolds it and motions for her to sit in it. "I am Rung. What is your name?"
Swivel peers curiously at the orange Autobot. She then looks at the chair he unfolds, then looks at Rung, then looks at the chair, then looks at Rung. This goes on for a while before she tentatively gets up walks over to the more comfortable chair and plunks down in it. She has to wiggle and shift a little bit to get just comfortable, considering her size and the awkward positioning of her tires. 
 "'Ello Rung. I'm Swivel," the femme answers pleasantly. "'Ow do you do?"
The tiny psychiatrist beams at her a little. It isn't very often that people get his name right on the first try. 
 But when she asks him how he is, his helm lowers a little. He gives her a weak little smile. "... ah, well, I didn't come here to speak about myself," the elfin doctor says. "Tell me, how are you? And how did you end up here?"
"Wellum, I was really scared 'n kinner wrankled when I was firs' put in the prison cell. But once I got t'thinkin', well, I dun blame en'one for puttin' me in with prisoners. See, I figger, 'cons are really dangerous, roight? An' if ya'll took th'time to assess 'oo was a 'con an' 'oo wasn't on the scene, the ones yer affer'd get away or they'd 'urt yer enforcers. So I figgered if I was patient enough, summin'd come an' take my statement, and 'ere we are!" Swivel explains, putting her hands palm down on the table. She beams at Rung, not seeming overly concerned about her situation. "But I guess yer more in'erested in why I was in the Forge, eh?”
Rung gives a little sigh. "I don't blame you for being afraid," he says, "prison isn't a pretty place." 
 He then laughs quietly. "Ever the optimist, I see. But no, I'm not actually. I just want to know about you, as a person." He glances up at a lonely looking time keeper on the wall. "I don't have anywhere to be and I don't suppose you do either, so why don't you start from the very beginning--when you were born, and then all the way to the present. I want to know your story."
"Oh..." Swivel looks momentarily puzzled, then momentarily disappointed, and then she finally shrugs, banishing her disappointment. "Hmmmmm I dun think en'one's ever asked f'me 'ole loif story b'fore. But then, mos' folk woona wanner listen t'me talk th'much." Swivel pauses for a moment, and exvents. "Okay. I'll do my best ta talk more slowly, jus loik my teacher tells me to." 
 "WEll, to start, I was forged in Nyon, I think. Yeah. Nyon. Um, went to PPS. Oh wait, there was th'ole assessin' part.... yanno.... same sorter stuff all peeps go through.... well mebbe not all. Blurr claims 'e dinna go ta PPS, which kinner s'prised me! I figgered 'igh castes'd go ta PPS 'en go to even specialer PPS, yanno?" Swivel shakes her head glancing off into space momentarily. "Uh..... so... yeah... PPS, 'en I got assigned as a personal courier t'summin's business. I fetched 'em things, delivered memos, 'n stuff loik tha'... 'til they found summin' better 'en me, an' I was considered obsolete. I can't fly so I'm not as fast, an' I ent a communications machine, so I dun do long range or encrypted messages, an' with long range message relayin... no one wanted me. I 'ad t'be paid, since I's not a isposable, see…."
Rung listens carefully and intentionally, nodding quietly as Swivel tells her story in detail. However, when she mentions Blurr, a pained expression passes over his features momentarily. Then he goes back to listening, every now and then taking a few notes on a datapad he's brought with him. "I see," he says softly, "and then what happened? How do you find purpose and function now?"
Swivel had noticed the change in countenance in Rung's face at the mention of Blurr, and Swivel raises her optic ridges at that. However, at his bidding, she continues. "Well... for a while I dinna 'ave a 'ome or a job.. so I 'ad ta scavange." Swivel frowns lightly and her shoulders sag. "I never 'ad a knack fer fightin'... an' the rule was survival of the meanest out there... but I was good at ambushes. I dinna 'urt en'one much. Just surprised 'em, grabbed somethin' - anythin' - they 'ad. I also learned 'ow ta turn off a lotter me sensors, use less fuel.. an' some of my trickiest drivin' tricks." Swivel begins tapping her fingers on the table. "Saw people turn against each other and take each other apart while still online. It made some people get real nasty... but I kept tellin' myself I dinna 'ave to do that. I always 'eld out an kept on 'opin' things'd get better. They did. Some folk think, affer seein' wot I saw I shoona 'ave 'ope... or trust people. Thing is, I believe good is in everyone, but 'en ya got nuthin', ya dun 'ave the luxury to make good choices, yanno? I always figgered if I coo get out of that level o' poverty, I'd be in good company again." Swivel swings her legs as she reviews a few facts in her mind.
After a while, Rung stops taking notes and simply stares quietly at his datapad, listening to Swivel patiently. "And what do you hope for the future, then? That one day, you'll be out of poverty? How do you think you'll get out? Do you believe everything will fall into place once this happens?”
Swivel is quiet for a moment. "...Yes. Or, that was. A mech named Steamcore started a courier agency in Nyon. Folk wer'na too trustin' sendin' messages over radio 'n such... and dinna wanner use gov'ment sponsored d'liv'ry services.. 'e started a private business, 'n 'ired en'one 'oo coo do the work. I got a job, constant employment, 'n some respect. I was good at my job. I loved my job. An' I valued 'is values. Integrity, discretion... I never told en'one 'oo I did m'jobs fer if they requested as much, or where I was takin' stuff, or iffin wot I saw if I was let inter a business or 'ome." Swivel leans back in her chair. "But it dinna pay too well, but I wunna livin' in th'same kinner danger. I sumtimes iffin woo leave energon cubes out for 'em ta find. I'd bury 'im in junk piles 'n all sorter places." Swivel smiles as she thinks about this. "Now? I quit my job 'n decided t'b'come an athlete. Got signed with the Tesarus Tumblers at the IAA.” Swivel smiles a little and her optics grow brighter. "I'm also learnin' 'ow to speak better and good manners. I just started so it dun really show yet, but it will. I know the caste system's supposed ta keep people in their place, 'n I dinna mind that much b'fore. But 'en I learned things loik beasts 'n drones're actually people, loik, with thoughts 'n feelin's, it began feelin' wrong t'me. But I support functionism - I loik the job I was given', I think it suits me well. I dunno if I was given the choice that I'd choose wot I was best suited for, roight? But.... people! As possessions! It made me so sad! Are you aware that them YX-units that all got recalled were all individuals? I leaned that only shortly before it 'appened. Surely, if they realised they was people they wunna done wot they did t'all of 'em!"
Rung nods slowly, his expression hard to read. "Yes.. that's all very well and good for you, Swivel, and I'm glad it seems you were fortunate enough to have had it better than some. And I am happy that you have found something to look forwards to in the future." And then she mentions the IAA and Rung stiffens very slightly. However, he does not comment. "Swivel..." He pauses. "< Oftentimes, things must take a turn for the very worst before they become... how you've always dreamed they would be. I am not certain of the future, and I'm sure you hold a level of uncertainty about the future as well. But should life's journey take you somewhere rocky, remember this. That although what you said earlier was true, and good can be found in everyone, hard times bring out both the the worst and best in people. Sometimes, you'll never know that someone has such a hardened spark until the storm blows in. And sometimes, you'll find that the seemingly cruelest of sorts have a beautiful spark after all. And then, there are the kindred spirits. The ones who, despite all suffering and hardship, remain true to what is right and good. And this frame of mind, Swivel, is everlasting and of paramount influence. I believe you are one. One day, before your days are over, you will pass your kindred spirit on to someone else. Investigate all things for yourself, and always, always pursue the truth without fail. Remember this conversation, but do not tell anyone it happened >" 
 The little psychiatrist stands, and places a hand on her shoulder. " Have courage, and be kind," he says with a small smile, and with that, heads out to take his leave.
Swivel had been listening intently, as the other mech starts actually speaking rather than just posing questions, leaning in closer and closer until her feet are on the ground, her rear slightly lifted off the chair, and her hands on the table. It looks odd due to her height. "I.... I will. Thanks, I will!" Swivel says as he is getting up and getting ready to leave. She then is about to set her aft back down, but then pauses. She stands up, takes the chair, and fights with it until she figures how it collapses. "This is yours, innit? I woona woncha t'ferget it, Wung."
Rung pauses momentarily in the doorway, smiling softly and shaking his helm at Swivel. "It's alright. You can keep it, I am not in need of it." 
 And with that, the tiny psychiatrist exits, the sound of his little feet padding down the prison hallway echoing back to Swivel as he leaves.
Swivel is left holding the chair. Thanks Rung. Now they'll think she's armed and dangerous.