Listening Skills

One night, Hot Rod receives a communique from Iacon. Yes, that cursed crimson First Face imposed over the golden Senate emblem that he and his people have come to dread so much. But he might be surprised that the message does not appear hostile at all. In fact, it is a formal request for him to meet the chief of security on the outskirts of Nyon at a specific set of coordinates to discuss 'the future of Nyon'. Whatever that might mean...
Boy is Hot Rod EVER in the MOOD to DEAL WITH THIS TODAY. He's in fine form as he drives up to the requested coordinates. He seems to be alone, but appearances can be deceptive. Then again, this /is/ Hot Rod. Who knows. Maybe he really is here without backup.
It's like he's doing his worst to embody every turbo-revving punk stereotype. He's fast. He's loud. The music he plays rattles the panels of his armor, all freedom this and overthrow the government that. It's the music of the underclass, and it cuts only when he transforms in the middle of a sharp turn that swings his back tires wide. "Okay," he calls as he hits the coordinates. "Let's talk."
Hopefully Mr. Chief of Security is there already, because otherwise Hot Rod wasted a GREAT entrance.
Of course Prowl is there already. Punctual is one of the words that would be appropriate to describe him. He too, -appears- to be alone, but again who knows? The area could be surrounded. But at the moment it seems he doesn't have any plans to make any aggressive moves, with his weapons subspaced and all that. "Hot Rod." the officer acknowledges, regarding him with a neutral expression. "I'm glad you chose to speak to me this cycle."
"Future of Nyon." Hot Rod opens his hands in an expansive gesture. He's aggressively friendly. It has a mock, scornful edge. He is anything but neutral. He's all sharp, prickly edges to match the bright colors and sharp lines of his frame. "Not hard to figure that'd bring me out here to talk. So what's it going to be? Threats? Or are we calling them promises and pretending?"
Prowl makes a slight exasperated noise. Ugh. Good Primus, just as he'd expected. Hot Rod is rude, and has the audacity to jump to such conclusions before the officer has even had a chance to speak his piece. However, he puts up with it for the time being, keeping the greater good in mind. He shakes his head. "None of the above. I would imagine that you have quite a few....statements that you would like to make to those in power, on behalf of your polity. I am here to offer you a chance to do just that."
"Oh, I got your statements right here," says Hot Rod with an unmistakably rude gesture. /Hot Rod/. Despite himself, he lowers his hands and looks just a little ... curious. "What are you talking about?"
"I understand that you aren't quite satisfied with the arrangements that Nyon has been set up with, is that correct?" Prowl asks, an optic ridge going up. What does Hot Rod -think- he's talking about. Idiot. "Zeta Prime and the Senate are requesting that you come to the Primacy Auditorium to discuss the terms of the arrangement with them--perhaps together, you might be able to come to a consensus."
Now Hot Rod just looks confused. "What?" Maybe Prowl used words with too many syllables. He's lost the posturing prickle, and he's fresh out of rude gestures, but this seems to have come at him hard out of left field. It's obvious that whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this.
Prowl sighs. How stupid could one get? "You want your voice to be heard, is that right Hot Rod? Well here's your -chance-."
"In spite of all your presumptuous thoughts and behavior, the Senate -is- indeed open to hearing your side of the story, believe it or not."
Laughter sharp and derisive, Hot Rod says, "I've never known the Senate to hear the truth and act on it in a way that actually helps anyone but themselves. What's different now?"
Wow, Hot Rod is even stupider than Prowl thought. He groans audibly this time, clearly showing his frustration with a shake of his head. "Don't you -get- it? This is -precisely- the kind of attitude that cultivated the problems in Nyon in the first place. However, I will point out that there is -one- thing different now, and that is the fact that this -is- a different Senate, with -different- individual members. Or are you so impetuous in your ideas that you've already labeled -everyone- in a position of authority over you as cold and uncaring?"
Hot Rod looks a little smug at the indication he finally got to Prowl. He locks that memory deep in his spark to treasure always. He sobers quickly. "Not everyone, Prowl. But enough of you." And he's definitely including Prowl in that. "Do you even know what the people you represent are doing? Do you know what they /justify/?"
Ugh, no. Not this again. Not -this- discussion again. "Whether I do or not is irrelevant to this conversation." Prowl replies irritably. "Have you ever entertained the notion that you -might- be wrong about people?" he challenges. "Especially people you have -never- met, and make sweeping generalizations about simply because -most- of them, in your optics, are so terribly off-base?"
"Not when I see the results of their actions, their decisions, every day." Hot Rod glances away and then back at Prowl. "You're asking me to take a risk. I don't mind risk," he adds before anyone can dare call him coward. "But not without reason. I need to think about it. About whether that's worth it."
"Then bring your own delegation, or guards, or whatever you have." Prowl says, waving a hand dismissively. Because after all, if they were planning to jump him then wouldn't they insist he come alone? "It's a risk for us too, after all you might attempt to bring explosives into the auditorium." he sighs. "Can't you just get it through your processor that the new Senate does want to hear you out?"
Hot Rod smiles. It's tight and crooked. "Believe it or not, but I actually struggle with that idea," he says with a mockingly bemused note to his voice. He rocks back on his heels and says, "I'll be in touch, yeah? But I'm not a Decepticon -- /we're/ not Decepticons. We'd never just blow everything up like that. So don't suggest it."
"Then prove to us that you aren't by agreeing to a -civil- discussion." Prowl replies, folding his arms. "Take whatever precautionary measures you feel you need, if that's what you're concerned about."
"Hmph." Hot Rod doesn't add anything to that beyond a curt nod. Having promised to get back in touch with Prowl, he falls back two steps -- not turning his back on Prowl, not quite, and turns to the side. "You might not like what I have to say. But for your sake -- for /all/ of our sakes -- I hope you're right about them being different. I really do." His voice breaks into a strained, earnest note. He hopes so hard.
"We're aware of that, Hot Rod." Prowl replies with a nod. "But the offer still stands. Sometimes we have to listen to things we might not want to hear, because they -need- to be taken into account."
Well, that's a nicely -- ambivalent note to end on, there. Hot Rod gives Prowl a long look, then turns away to transform and drive off. He leaves behind just the promise of future contact, and at least a little less attitude than he arrived with. It probably counts as a victory for Prowl by most reasonable standards. (And Hot Rod will just count making Prowl cranky as /his/ victory.
Category:Autocracy