Rebel-vs-Revolutionary

++ Mess Hall <Kolkular> ++
Sitting alone at one of the large tables, Pursuit is occupying herself with what all good, devoted police officers occupy themselves with: PAPERWORK. She is studiously writing reports and going over information provided to her from the Cobalt Sentries. Garboil has been teaching her about the value of information flow. She looks entirely serious business at the moment.
~*~ DO I wanna know? ~*~
Without going into a complete rehash of song lyrics that won't actually even exist for a few million more years, the sentiment is still a valid one for Blast Off. He finds himself haunted by ghosts: ghosts that still manage to hold power over him even after thousands of years and countless cycles of the sun. Some of these people are long dead and gone, yet their influence is still felt to this day, and in that hazy twilight of *feeling* more than *knowing*, of grasping blindly for straws in the dark as opposed to seeing the possibly cold reality... he isn't even sure if he dare step towards the light and find out.
Not all his ghosts are even dead. No. One sits right here before him today. The Combaticon sits at a distant table and tries not to stare at Pursuit. His long black fingers grip his engex in a tight embrace, and he makes a point to spend his time studying the liquid as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. But every now and then, violet optics stray up and stare once more.
He has tried to stay away from her. He heard what Whirl did to her, even though she does not remember. He decided he ought not to intrude on her life ... let her settle and search for her own path without crossing on his, his old connections or memories or contact with Whirl. Maybe it's better this way. So for 20,000 he's done what he thought was the right thing: and kept his distance. It's all he's ever done with Shiftlock since discovering how young she was, and that ghost lingers in how he attempts to deal with Pursuit.
Further complications have been added to this sad refrain, however, and they play about his head like the notes of a sad melody. He finally interfaced with Whirl after an abstinence of 20,000 years- avoiding this particular ghost for 20,000 years... shared those memories of Whirl's unspeakable crime against her. And now he carries Whirl's ghosts as well as his own. Those ghosts are becoming almost too much now... and completely ignoring Pursuit has become harder. especially when he can see those... those *images* in his head. He stares... then winces and looks away, taking a long drink. Maybe if he gets drunk enough the ghosts will go away. At least for awhile.
"If you're going to say something, say it," Pursuit states without looking up, applying a digital stamp to several datapads. Purple and brilliant in digital ink: The insignia of the Decepticon Secret Service.
Blast Off is just ingesting said engex when Pursuit speaks up, and the Combaticon nearly spits out his drink. As it is, splatters of the liquid dribble down his faceplate and the hatch he drinks through, creating enough of a mess that he sputters and reaches for a towel to try and clean the mess. Dabbing and wiping, his optics flicker before he turns to look at the femme.
"I..I wasn't going to say anything." Well, technically that's true.
She looks up.
Optics are red as the sunset, face silver-white as fresh tundra ore. Pursuit keeps it neutral and professional beneath that helm of black. "I've noticed you watching me, staring for awhile. There's something you want to say - I can read it on you. I'm here: You might as well strike while the iron is red."
Smelt it all. Many things race through Blast Off's mind.
Well, you see Pursuit, you are housing the spark of someone I really cared about and I am kind of wondering how much of her remains inside of you, but by the way you wouldn't actually know any of this because your mind was wiped of the matter especially after the mech I love (who by the way is public enemy #1 as far as the Decepticons are concerned) commited unspeakable crimes against you and I just interfaced with him again and know all this and by the way that table that he slammed you onto looked really hard and I'm like really sorry and also I CAN'T UNSEE IT NOW and.... uh.... yeah.
Yeah, that will go down REAL WELL.
Blast Off remains silent, still trying to think of something to say. And Whirl was right- it's better that she does NOT remember any of this- does NOT remember Shiftlock. She seems happy now, and neither of them has the right to drag her back into the confusion and misery that so seemed to mark the femme of old. He doesn't want to even try. His fingers flex in frustration as he deliberates another drink. Despite all these things... the curiosity is killing him. He also still needs to think of *something*. Ah.
"I.. actually, I was wondering if you have heard anything about Swindle's whereabouts."
"No." Well, that's straight forward enough, isn't it? Pursuit looks down at her books. "Swindle's movements are erratic and difficult to track, but given his nature that's to be expected. He's likely dealing in sales outside Decepticon parameters, hence his need to be evasive and secretive - but his benefits outweigh his risks."
"Unfortunately," she continues, "that also means that when something goes sour, we can't find him. He's royally fragged, I'd imagine."
That's... not exactly what Blast Off wanted to hear. The Combaticon leans back as that sinks in, pressing against the seat of his chair with a creak. He is quiet, the only sound the background noises of the Mess Hall and the clinking of energon cubes somewhere in the kitchens nearly. And he remains that way until he finally breaks the silence with another draught. Wiping his faceplate, he returns his drink to the table... then decides otherwise.
Now he gets up and, bringing his drink with him, comes to stand at the table next to Pursuit. "I am well aware of that. I am well aware that..." Of course his immediate thoughts go straight to Shiftlock, given that they never really left her in the first place, "...that once the Autobots have someone in their clutches there's no telling *what* they might do... mind control, spark extraction..." His voice trails off and he interjects with another swig of that drink.
Turning to look at Pursuit, the shuttleformer asks, "But... you all are *looking* for him, right? He's an invaluable resource for the Decepticons, after all... he can procure items when no one else *can*." Now he leans forward just a bit. "And we're Decepticons.... we /don't/ abandon our own to the likes of *Autobots." At least *most* Decepticons don't. His thoughts drift to Barricade a moment before shoving them aside.
Pursuit looks Blast Off in the optics. "You're asking the wrong person. I'm not in charge of mission priority, nor am I the top ranking member of the Decepticon Secret Service. If you want to know who is looking for him, you should probably ask someone higher up on the command chain." She can -feel- his unease from here. "... That's not the reason you wanted to talk to me is it?" She decides to test her interrogation skills by asking him a direct question to see how he answers.
Blast Off gazes right back at her. It's almost like he's searching for something in those shining red optics the way he stares. At her question, though, he glances away, glass shifting in his hands as he seems to consider a response. "It's certainly the foremost thing on my mind! Swindle is my teammate. I SAW that video. I naturally want to be certain that justice will be swift and the Decepticons will do everything in their power to get him back- as they once did for me."
The shuttleformer proceeds to sit down at her table- the furthest spot from her, so as not to interrupt her paperwork, and he holds his engex in one hand at the table's edge. That studious look returns to regard the femme once more. "....But, well.... maybe that's not *all* of it, no." He flicks a hand at the piles of paperwork placed there in front of Pursuit. "I see you're busy at work here. Decepticon Secret Service... must be an important job. You are training to be like Barricade, correct? The police? In charge of enforcing all things that are "truth and justice"?"
Pursuit smiles. "I'm training to serve and protect. It feels right to do so. Truth is important and justice is critical, but without the desire to first serve, and second protect... truth and justice are just another set of stasis cuffs around the limbs of the people."
Protect. That almost sounds like... Shiftlock. Blast Off fights the sudden pang of bittersweet recognition of the other femme's ideals. She always wanted to protect others. His glass comes back down and he can't help but stare at Pursuit now. "That sounds almost... noble."
"And the cause we fight for isn't?" Pursuit asks with a grin.
Sixshot enters from Upper Hallway.
"No," Blast Off's voice is quieter, "No, that's not what I am saying." The shuttleformer's gaze shifts to take in a sweep of the bar: each item in its place and arranged for a mess of hungry soldiers. Much like the cause that they work for: each wheel and cog in its place, set to motion to become a /war/ machine with /peace/ as its unlikely ultimate goal. Well, at least according to "Towards Peace", that is.
"I fully support the Decepticon cause. The Autobot's tyranny MUST be stopped, and the Decepticons are the way to do it. When the government dictates its will upon everyone, when choice is withheld from even common, everyday decisions... not to mention life-changing ones- then there is no protection. Then justice is not being served, nor are the people." Somehow the High Caste shuttle speaks like a spokesmech for these downtrodden poor. Then again, now he is one, so perhaps it makes at least some sense. "The Decepticons are not afraid to stand up to that corruption and proclaim *enough*. *I* am not afraid to stand up to that authority and proclaim my right to choose for myself. I never HAVE been. And believe me, the government was quick to slap statis cuffs on ME for such a transgression." He shakes his head with a *hufff*. "More than once." Pause, and his stare turns just a little bleak before finding strength in his conviction again. "More than twice."
Now secure in his own thoughts and spark once more, the defiant shuttle downs another swig of engex. "And those..." He nearly says something rather /uncouth/ but refrains at the last second, "...buffoons can try to do that to me again ...and again. But I WILL stand against them to my last working circuit. So will many of those here." The glass comes down again and he glances at Pursuit's paperwork. "But we need to know the spark of those we work for. The spark and mind of those who claim to serve us, and the people of Cybertron. Those who lead us, and expect us to follow. Expect us to obey the rules they lay in place. Those who /enforce/ those rules. People like..." His gaze comes up to meet hers once more, "...you."
And there are NO ulterior motives to that question at all. None whatsoever.
Pursuit listens to Blast Off's moving words, and finds she has unwittingly opened a flood gate of the mech's feelings. Or his capacity to make speeches. Either is appropriate given the response.
The 'interrogation' worked; she got him to open up, to speak his mind and thoughts, and she sifts through them along with his body language, trying to see if what he's saying matches what his body is telling her. When they don't match up, that's when you find a liar.
The shuttle does not seem to be one of those. Not now.
"So you want to get to know me, because I may one day enforce rules over you?" She takes his statement, and phrases it as a question, to make certain that is what he really wants.
The shuttleformer subconsciously begins leaning in as he makes his speech, feeling the passion of his own words, his own convictions. He *does* believe the things he says. He really *does* want to be free to make his own decisions and not have everything dictated to him, and he's spent enough time with these other mechs and femmes here in Kaon to be able to understand a bit of their plight. His High Caste roots, while never discarded, have grown into new soil and new ideas.
However, when she speaks of *getting to know her*, his forward leaning stops and he jerks back a little, blinking. "I... I didn't mean *I want to get to know you*, exactly. Well, what I meant was..." He glances around momentarily before settling back on the femme, possibly backpedaling just a little. "I simply wanted to know what was... on your mind. As someone who, yes, is being trained to enforce the laws. Someone who works for Barricade, correct? I assume you're being trained to follow in his footsteps?"
He pauses then, glancing down at his glass. "So... yes, I am curious to know what the new Decepticon order is going to be like. Where it's spark and mind is. Where we are being led to. The... kind of things you've learned. The kinds of things you have been taught are ...important."
He sips at his drink now, settling, ventilation cycles steadying. His gaze lifts once more as he adds, "The kinds of things that affect me... or people like my teammate Swindle."
"Impressive words first time around, but what has you stumbling now? No offense Blast Off, because can understand your concerns.", a familiar voice is heard nearby but is nowhere to be found easily. Knowing the ninja mech this is one of Sixshots tests to see how well they be aware of their world.
"I intend to keep us from becoming complete monsters," Pursuit explains. "There is a necessary savagery in war - you must win decisively - but after one is trained to kill, one can become so used to it, one cannot live in a world -after- war. That is what Barricade has been focusing on: He wants me to learn how to keep myself from becoming too jaded and debased by conflict. he wants me to keep my morals, my honor, my dignity, by never foregetting that it is -Cybertron's people- I serve - not a cause, not a badge, not a mech."
"If our decepticon brethren cannot function after war, if they break the rules, if they go 'rabid' ... it will be my duty to put them down," Pursuit adds.
Blast Off blinks again as a familiar voice speaks up nearby. The Combaticon looks up. Sixshot. He hasn't seen the mech in quite awhile. It brings him back- WAY back. Sixshot was the one who found the badly injured shuttleformer and brought him to the Decepticons in the first place. He's the reason Blast Off is a Decepticon now, most likely. He looks around for the mech, taking a moment for nostalgia's sake... but not too long. Given that the Combaticon's got pretty good sensors, if Sixshot is findable by ordinary means then he may well spot him. "...Greetings, Sixshot. I am attempting to find out what is being done regarding Swindle. He's been beaten and taken in by the Autobots, and I can't tell that much is being done to *find* him."
See, Sixshot? This is all perfectly normal and reasonable and not at ALL because I know Pursuit houses the spark of someone I really care about but she doesn't even know it and I'm trying to figure out how much of Shiftlock remains in there without giving all this away and making everything a thousand times worse. No, nothing to do with that at all!
He then turns to listen to Pursuit once again and those words remind him enough of Shiftlock they're almost painful to hear. He has to collect himself, just sit quietly and remind himself of what he's trying to do and NOT do and the proper behavior to display. Proper behavior NOT including giving her a hug and telling her how much he missed her. But he doesn't even DO that kind of thing, right? Right? *ahem* Proper behavior. He sits a little straighter and instead just gives her a nod.
"That is a challenge. It always is in war. I know that full well as a Combaticon. We walk a fine line between the brutality required just to stay alive during a battle and keeping our sense of self, our sense of decency... keeping ourselves civilized and not allowing ourselves to became heathens. And there ARE those who lust for that ...lust for losing themselves in the chaos. It's freedom to them- a freedom they will not want to give up. So then- you will cut them down? Relieve them of their ability to choose as well? relieve them of their very lives?"
He pauses, tracing a finger along the rim of his glass. "I am not saying that that is wrong, mind you. But who decides when someone has gone too far? What happens if YOU believe someone still is... redeemable, but your superiors tell you otherwise?"
Sixshot smirks behind his faceplate as he is found before he makes his way over. Nodding to the combaticon he says, "Yes unfortunate for the mech. Hopefully soon the location will be found." The only reason he hasn't been sent out is because Megatron has certainly been keeping him busy. The mech having to have to hide in the background 20,000 years ago and now having to be once more out as a machine of war. Least things are different then he had to work for the Functionist Council between experiments.
Pursuit is thoughtful for a moment, considering those words. "I don't know. I find it unlikely that my superiors and I will be in disagreement on such an issue."
Blast Off sighs a little, glancing as Sixshot walks up. "Indeed. they came for me once, I intend to find him and come for him."
Then he looks back to Pursuit. "I see. In 20,000 years you have never been in disagreement with Barricade? Ever?"
"... No?" Pursuit asks, curious as to why this line of questioning has come up. "He's my mentor and father, why should I be in disagreement with him? He knows better than I do. He has my best interests in mind. I'm usually in the wrong."
Sixshot raises an optic ridge as he listens to the radio but doesn't comment as no one in command hasn't ordered any to go retrieve the femme. Listening to the pair he says, "Sometimes the teacher feels it is right for the student to think for themselves. But doesn't mean you need to."
Oooh boy. This blind obedience of Pursuit's makes Blast Off ITCH ALL OVER. He even twitches a little at that. "....You are *joking* right? Don't tell me he has you on *such* a tight leash that you are not allowed to ... I don't know... try *thinking for yourself*? Are you his blindly obedient automoton puppet or something?"
The shuttle gives one of his characteristic *huffs*. "How do you know that you were wrong? Because he TOLD you so? You realize that *most* people tend to think that they're right, right? That they usually *need* a second opinion, or third... they need some balance. *NOBODY* is right *all the time*. Certainly not *Barricade*." Another HUFFF and he glances away, mood souring as he thinks of how the mech cast Shiftlock out.
Then he freezes, realizing that's a slippery slope, and backtracks. "Well...I mean, not *anyone*. There are times that even the most brilliant and magnificent of us are wrong. And we *need* people who are not afraid to voice their opinions, to question and make those people *think*. Not to usurp their power, neccessarily, but you cannot HAVE truth, justice or protection if you follow anything or *anyone* with *blind* loyalty. You MUST be willing to think for yourself." The mech's passion shines as he speaks, the Combaticon almost lifting off his chair as he talks.
Sixshot's comment gets a sharp turn of the head. "...WHAT? What do you mean she doesn't *need* to? Are you suggesting she be a turbo-sheep, blindlyu follow her flock- even if led off a cliff?"
Sixshot glances to Blast Off, "My apologies Blast Off, that was worded wrong. What I meant is that Yoketron told me that at times I had the right to disagree but it was my decision. Yes she has not disagreed with Barricade but perhaps because the chance has not come up. Her choice in following has been done with her own spark. I doubt Barricade would keep such tight control on her as you believe."
"Soundwave has also been instructing me. Is that enough of a second opinion?" Pursuit asks Blast Off, wary of his outburst and regarding him with caution. "When one is a newspark, one does not have the experience to make wise decisions. I watched my father protect Silence and myself from Enforcer bullets and shock rods. He allowed himself to be -beaten- for our safety and wellbeing -- why shouldn't I trust that he has my best interests in mind?"
She shakes her head and sighs heavily. Not quite a huff, but close. "I am quite capable of thinking for myself - now. When I was two days old, my very survival hinged on obedience and trust. It's a lesson I never forgot."
Blast Off ahhs, nodding to Sixshot. "I see. Yes, what Yoketron told you makes more sense to me now." He looks a little more doubtful about the rest of his statement, though... but he doesn't say so. Instead, he turns to listen to Pursuit once more. Her wary look gives him pause, leading him to sigh and pinch at the bridge of his nose before straightening once again. Speaking of thinking, he's still trying to figure out what he thinks about *her*. And being so close to "Shiftlock" and yet so far away is a new form or torture he thinks might make even spark extraction look like a pleasant vacation. But I digress. He shoves the thought aside and tries to focus again.
"Then I am glad to hear it. You need exposure to a variety of opinions and life experiences. I completely concur that a newspark like yourself needs boundaries, needs to use caution. That there is nothing wrong with realizing that others may have wisdom you lack, and drawing from them to know the right path- the safer one." He tilts his head, "You need to KNOW the rules before you break them."
"But there's the thing. Sometimes you *will* have to break the rules. Being a Decepticon alone already assures you of that. And sometimes doing the right thing means follwing not the law, but your own inner.... morality. Your own inner wisdom. What your..." he pumps at his helmet and his chest one at a time, "What your own mind and your own spark tell you you must do." Blast Off continues to listen, though her last few comments have him thinking again, gaze shifting to the side. "...Lesson you learned when you were two days old? You mean... in the Aubobot prison? You... remember that?"
"Are you sure you never read my masters teachings, unless he found the same material as you have," Sixshot nods as he listens to Blast Off's words. He doesn't ask about the 'lesson' Pursuit learned as that may be a private matter.
"I remember being in the prison, yes. I remember Whirl dragging me into the interogation room, clear as day. That table was highly uncomfortable," Pursuit states. "... You are rather fixated on me being capable or even desirous of breaking the rules. Are you trying to encourage me to be some kind of rebel?"
The six-changer's words cause Blast Off to look up and blink. "...Uh, no, I do not believe so? Though if my words are reminiscent of his, then perhaps I ought to. No, I speak from my own experiences. I was Primal Vanguard once. I am also a space shuttle- I traveled the galaxy and saw countless worlds, numerous people, all kinds of civilizations, cultures, poltiics and places. I saw how very different they could all be- and yet how remarkably similar, too. There are some constants out there I met again and again. Lessons *I* learned, and could predict with regularity each time they unfolded before my optics once more." He looks down to his glass of engex before taking another swallow. "And I had time to *think*. I... always had time to *think*. Even when many of my Combaticon collegaues were busy with... other things, I was often *up there*.... " he lets out a soft huff that corssed between a chuckle and a sigh, "...thinking." He doesn't mention the other time he had all the time to think: stuck as a bodiless mind in Garrus-1 whiteout cell. No, he doesn't ever talk about that.
The next words out of Pursuit's mouth surprise Blast Off greatly, and he doesn't contain that surprise in time. His head snaps to face her, optics wide. "You DO?!" Then he just stares a moment, confused. But... but Feint said she wiped Pursuit's memory of that. That...that she didn't remember a THING. It's deeply unsettling to hear that she does. The shuttleformer's violet optics flicker just a bit as he tries to think of a response. ANY response that won't give him away. "....I..I mean, well...it's just that I am surprised you remember something from that long ago. I..uh, heard about that. Something about him... slamming you against a table, then Feint come in and stopped that hooligan before he did anything further?" His hand starts rubbing the back of his helmet nervously, but he doesn't seem to notice.
Then he realizes she said something *else* after that. Oh. Yeah. Um. "Oh, well... I am simply stating that as a Decepticon you should be prepared to think for yourself, never to allow yourself be spoonfed what the status quo tells you to. Rebellion.... well, rebels are what we *are*." Certainly what Blast Off is. Down to his very core.
"I remember Whirl being exceptionally cross with me due to my relationship to Barricade, and then a blue femme came and shooed him out of the room, taking me back to my cell," Pursuit explains, one optic ridge raised as she views Blast Off with skepticism. She's aware of Sixshot, but Blast Off is so ... /there/, in her face, asking so much, she hasn't had time to properly respond to the sixchanger.
That last bit gets her attention, and marks the difference between them. "No, Blast Off. We are -not- rebels. We're *revolutionaries*."
Sixshot nods, "They are similar but as I said he may have taken them from other sources as he was well learned." He shakes his head as Blast Off talks of what happened to Pursuit. Picking up a glass of engex he takes a sip before nodding to the femme.
Blast Off almost wants to cry out... with relief. She *doesn't* remember... not really. Thank Primus. He relaxes now, becoming more aware of the generally *aloof* demeanor he's always trying to convey. His gaze falls away, as does his hand. "Yes... that was Feint. She... interrogated me later. Told me." He adds that- the truth, after all! So that there won't be further questions as to how he knew. Certainly not by interfacing Whirl later. No, definitely not. Much, MUCH later, given that the truth of what REALLY happened in that cell nearly ended his relationship with Whirl.
The Combaticon titls his head again at her last comment. "...What do you consider the difference between the two?"
He also nods to Sixshot. "yes... sounds as if he has also had some time out there, time to see the world as it is."
Pursuit defines herself. "A rebel is someone who resists authority in all its forms. A revolutionary seeks a swift and complete change of authority, with the intention of returning to the normalcy of society and obedience to the law afterwards."
Blast Off considers this, while trying NOT to look too amused at being told what he is or isn't by this fresh young upstart. He does lift an optic ridge, though, while idly swishing the dark engex inside his glass, gazing at it as if it will reveal the future like some alcoholic magic 8-ball. His head finally lifts up after a time. "Let us accept your definition for the sake of argument, then. I have defined myself as a rebel, and therefore that means I resist /all/ authority. The Decepticons as a group are Revolutionaries, and simply fight for change - to overthrow the government, then peaceably return to normal life and obedience to the law."
The Combaticon allows himself a small sip before continuing, raising the index finger clutched around his glass to emphasize his points. "First... you said earlier that you study the law, fully expecting that when this war ends there will be "rabid" Decepticons you will have to "put down". Decepticons who you already know will NOT fit in to this new, peaceful society. And I expect that will probably be a very good thing." A pregnant pause. "At first. This army of ours has attracted all kinds.... from truly struggling, downtrodden masses who simply want the ability to *choose* their life's path to the most vile and cruel heathens who see us as an excuse for carnage and mayhem. The latter's brutality is exactly the sort of thing that can win a battle or even a war, but will indeed never fit back into society once so awakened."
"However. Time will pass. Things will fall into a nice, pleasant status quo again. There will still be these "rebels" you seek to stamp out- those that threaten our new world order. A completely /just and fair/ new world order, of course!" He makes a little flair with his hand at that, then speaks again. "And many WILL deserve to be stamped out. But... can you guarantee that *all* of them will? That over time, there might not be a voice of dissention worth listening to once again?"
The shuttle's optics darken just a bit and his demeanor grows more serious. "Who do you think started the dissent *this* time around? How do you think your "revolutionaries" even got the notion there was something to have a "revolution" /against/?"
He leans forward now, optics piercing. "I'll tell you. The *rebels*. Those whose very nature is to question- to poke and prod and PUSH the boundaries. They are /always/ the first to know. They are the first to encounter resistance- and to feel the sting should that resistance be something corrupt as opposed to just or lawful. Why? They pose a potential threat to the status quo- and it instinctively knows this fact. Should the status quo be just and fair, its reaction will be mild. Someone simply voicing an opinion or being a troublemaker isn't a grave threat to that kind of system. But weak and shaky status quos- societies- know it doesn't take much to topple them... and thus they are quick to strike any resistance down."
Now Blast Off almost looks... is it slightly weary? "I have seen this... time after time, world after world. And here's another little secret. Eventually... no matter WHO is running things, or what noble intentions they might have... corruption *does* seep in. Individuals act selfishly or start a campaign of misinformation- much like our government has done to us."
His optics brighten and the weariness vanishes. "And do you believe everything this government tells you? More importantly, will you believe everything the *next* government tells you? Even if it's *ours*? Every government official? Every time? Every situation? Do you truly believe it's always that easy to tell the difference between a rebel and a revolutionary on one encounter alone? Or, should you hear rumblings from rebels, maybe even rumblings you've been ordered to quash as an officer of the law: will you remember revolution's roots?"
Pursuit puts down her work and folds her hands in front of her on the table, listening to Blast Off's introspective and highly informational monologue. He speaks of a perpetual revolution, perpetual chaos, perpetual unrest - an unending cycle of civilizations that rise, shine and then corrode back into the dust. It's a soul-crushing philosophy to someone who is devoted to maintaining order. She decides to speak her mind on the matter.
"Your argument is as old as the guiding hand - it's chaos versus order, the collective good versus self-interest. The world you speak about is one perpetually on the edge of suffering, misery and war. It is an eternity of endless rebellions, lacking hope for anything permanent, anything better."
Pursuit continues. "I don't -want- a world where rebels are allowed to instigate bloodshed whenever those that hold the duty and responsibility of leadership do something that does not agree with their desire for "Freedom". Total freedom is anarchy and no civilization at all. The fine wine you enjoy came from a world of order, reason, justice and efficiency. If you would prefer we descend into a mob of weak-sparked, barely cognizant barbarians, then there are other places to do it."
"I am a protector. I have a set of standards, of right and wrong, and I measure every individual by that set of standards. I do not care if they are high above me or far beneath me, when they violate those standards, they are to be corrected, either by mercy, or by justice. My intention is to be a pillar upon which civilization rests and is upheld."
"The revolution came because of stagnation and an inequal application of law and justice across the castes, because those in power were above the law instead of beholden to it. I will -always- remember that."
Blast Off did indeed lay out a lot of that which motivates and informs him. And he's had a long (and troubled) enough existence to believe every word he says. Once his speech is done, he takes another long draught of the engex, savoring it (as much as one can something like this, something hardly a fine wine but common mess hall fair) and listens. What he hears doesn't greatly surprise him. She may have been Shiftlock once, but now she is... well, he's still not exactly sure, but she sits here before him in the guise of a police car: the very symbol of law and order and the things that he as a renegade, merceneary and Combaticon has always been at odds with.
"You sound as if you believe that order can be maintained indefinitely. I would argue that it cannot. AND, in fact, some chaos is *needed*."
That finger comes up again. "Now don't get me wrong. I come from High Caste roots. I am trained as a gentlemech, and I believe very strongly that civilization- that *rules*, and etiquette, and certain... expecations are vital to keep a society running. The fine wine does indeed come from such order and stability. Many of the finer things in life come from time periods that are stable. War... well, war destroys those things. When survival is all that matters, you don't have time to enjoy wine and opera." Alas.
"That said, war and conflict DO have their place. Chaos has its place. How do you think that people and societies get stronger? It is because everything is peaceful for long stretches of time? No, peace is when people get *complacent*. It's pleasant, indeed..." His voice gains a strangle tilt to it as he recognizes HIMSELF in this example. "You put the blinders on, get comfortable, and don't want to see if there's a fly swimming around in your enerhoney." Blast Off pauses, gazes down at his drink as if checking for said fly. "You may have the most beautiful set of armor in the world, but without something there to test its strength, you don't know if it can withstand even the slightest hit. Is having beuatiful armor that has no functional strength or lasting power really something worth having?"
He looks up to the femme. "Or consider a virus. You may believe that you are strong and your firewalls are state of the art, but until you are tested by a virus you really don't know. And those tests of strength help a person- and a society- improve themselves. Chaos by its nature tests order, finding the cracks and forcing order to rearrange and improve. Even down to the microscopic level.... ever heard of string theories? How the splitting and recombination of strings correspond to particle emission and absorption, giving rise to the interactions between particles.... giving rise to energy? Chaos fuels the energy of the universe. Order ensures it doesn't tear that universe apart. Order and chaos have a balance to maintain."
Hearing her call herself a protector sends that pang of bittersweet familiarity coursing through the Combaticon again. She sounds like Shiftlock when she says that... though he finds it hard to imagine Shiftlock being so resistant to the benefits of at least a *little* good ol' chaos. A little flirting with danger. Does Pursuit even know HOW to do such a thing, he wonders? "Pillars are well and good. Just be certain the foundation you are built upon doesn't have cracks seeping in."
"You believe the revolution is a cracked foundation?" Pursuit asks.
"No." Blast Off corrects. "I believe in the cause we fight for. I believe we will win and we will set in motion a better future for our planet. That we can cleanse Cybertron of the corruption infecting it even now. Even that *test* will be passed. And we will be stronger for it."
"That said, corruption and chaos will stir again. And the rebels will likely once more be the first to notice. It's so easy to think that the group you are with is *always* right. Certainly it's more comfortable that way. I do believe that eventually cracks will appear in the foundation we've built, yes. In time. And we can either choose to be blind to that, convinced in our righteousness, or be alert for it. To even welcome those tests- those rebels- as the ....well, the sort of "protection" against complacency, if you will, that they are."
He leans in, staring at her optics as if trying to see someone in there. "Do you seek order above ALL else? Or are you capable of... allowing a little danger in?"
Pursuit looks at Blast Off quizzically. "It depends on what the danger is." What is he trying to get at? Does she have something wrong - a cracked optic she isn't aware of? "And what if it's the rebels that cause society to break down after we re-establish order? What if they desire to do things that are wrong - genuinely wrong - and they are willing to hurt others to have that privilege? Will you approve of this risk and danger?"
Blast Off continues staring, losing himself and his careful plans, insistance on not interferring, for a moment... losing himself to the frustration of wanting desperately to *know*. Of being SO painfully close to her and yet a thousand miles away... and not sure if there's any real *her* in there to begin with anymore.
"I don't know... Do you ever seek.. Excitement? Ever wonder what's out there? What it's even *like* to push boundaries, or why others might want to? Ever crave a little... adventure?" He stops himself there, hovering, wanting to press on but not sure he can without giving everything away.
The rest of her questions interrupt his quandary, and he pulls back now, trying to shift gears. "...I... uh, no. As I said earlier, most of the time you are called upon to provide your... law and order, it will be justified. Sometimes rabble-rousers only seek to...rabble because they are hooligans, plain and simple. Or Autobot sympathizers... which is about the same thing. I am simply saying that that is not always the case."
"What if the Autobots are actually correct in one or two details? Do we treat them all as objects to be destroyed because of the badge they wear?" Pursuit is keenly interested now in finding out what's on Blast Off's mind. He opened the door to his options, and she is walking right in with white gloves on look for any traces of hidden dirt.
"Craving adventure means you obviously don't have enough work to do. Craving itself indicates a deficiency of some sort."
Blast Off blinks. His gut reaction is to insist there's no way an Autobot could make any sense whatsoever. "Well... that's HIGHLY unlikely." He glances down the mess hall, wrestling with his own prejudices. "I suppose an individual Autobot, once in a *blue moon*, might actually have a point." The words don't come easily, but come they must. "...Alright. It would be logical to consider them, as well. I suppose they are a test in their own right. Usually a test of *patience*, but... I digress." His thoughts then drift to Whirl. "Not ALL Autobots are evil. Some are brainwashed, some are ignorant, and some are... Simply victims of circumstance, just like... some Decepticons are." His expression borders on wistful now.
That changes at her next statement, and Blast Off stiffens and straightens up. "Uh, no! I have plenty to do! Plenty. I am quite... invaluable to Onslaught and the other Combaticons, and I've been busy with a great deal many things." A wing elevon twitches and he leans back again. "They rely on me for sniping and scouting out aerial targets and..." Sigh, and his voices quiets a little, "..transport."
Did he say too much? Give himself away? He's not sure, and he takes the moment of doubt to drink from his glass again and try to mask his doubts. But while he ought to remain quiet, he can't quite resist adding, "I do not crave adventure because I don't have enough to do. I crave new things, excitement, because... well, to test *myself*. To see what's out there." He turns to stare at her again. "There's a great wide world out there, and an even greater galaxy. What's out there would probably blow your circuits. You..." He wants to say *used to* SO BADLY, " You *could* seek to test yourself against it, with it, enjoy the experiences out there and ...I don't know..." His voice quiets again, a note of sadness *almost* detectable, "Learn more about yourself by doing so."
"... It's as if you want me to be reckless, impulsive and irresponsible," Pursuit notes, blinking. "... is that what you want? For me to act that way, for some reason? You're absolutely fixated on this 'adventure' and 'testing' myself -- why? What is going on here, Blast Off? You act like you're trying to get me to come to some kind of internal revelation."
Smeeelllt. Blast Off glances away now, lifting his glass as if to drink but failing to do so. It hangs there as he stares at some random spot. "No. No, that's... why would I do that? I... hardly know you." The glass comes down hard- right on his hand resting on the table. There's a slight jolt at that, but the shuttleformer doesn't make a sound, save for a stifled hiccup that would have been a huff. "...No, it's just... it's just me trying to get a feel for the new law and order, that's all." He doesn't look at her.
"Whirl kept yelling about how I was a 'substitute Shiftlock' when he had me in that interrogation room. Said he wanted revenge on Barricade for what he did. I am aware that I am a recycled spark - something like that comes to the surface very quickly," Pursuit explains, finally smiling just a little. "But the spark doesn't hold memories, only personality and CNA patterns. Shiftlock had a completely different set of experiences that made her who she was. I've had another set that's made me who *I* am."
Everything sort of stops right then. Blast Off turns to face Pursuit and can only stare helplessly at her, all pretense falling away like leaves in autumn. For a long time he doesn't say anything at all. He can't.
And then: "You.... /know/ about that?"
"What kind of father do you think Barricade is?" Pursuit asks. "Yes, he explained it to me when I was ready to hear it. I saw the datalinks, the images. I've had a long time to come to terms with that."
This is yet another one of those times Blast Off is glad he's wearing a faceplate, so that the fact that his jaw has dropped isn't obvious to anyone but him. It just wouldn't do to look so dumbfounded, after all. It takes him another moment to digest *that* as well.
"How much do you know about her? About who she... was?"
"She was tormented from her creation, used and tossed aside, played as a pawn between those she thought would help her, always seeking to help selflessly, and never having that courtesy returned. She was restless, empty, haunted, undisciplined and wild. Death was the greatest mercy afforded her," Pursuit says.
Blast Off listens to that, and his fidgeting stops. His shock stops. Everything stops. The shuttleformer looks down at his glass, fingers tightening around its rim- and then relaxes and lets go, his hands coming to rest in his lap as he stares off into space somewhere in front of him. He waits for the room to stop spinning before even attempting to speak. When he does, his voice is lfat and emotionless
"She was a... candle in the wind." His violet optics have a faraway look as he attempts to contain the pain he feels at that statment. Not unexpected- he saw her contempt towards Shiftlock- towards herself- earlier, in Whirl's mind and memories. "You are partly correct. Tormented? Used and tossed aside? Sought to help others, restless, haunted..." He swallows, mouth suddenly dry, "....All true. She sought out... something. A place to stay, someone to count on, a cause to believe in." His gaze casts downward as he speak. "She suffered."
The Combaticon almost begins to sway a little before he catches himself, and his optics refocus as optic ridges furrow down. That violet gaze turns to look at her directly, and his voice strengthens. "You are incorrect on a some things, though. She..." He falters, feeling awkward. Suddenly he has a desire to admit this to Pursuit what he was never able to say to HER. "...There /were/ those who cared. There *were* those who DID help her in return. *Selflessly*." Another uncomfortable pause.
"And *I* was one. I...I tried to help her. Multiple times. I found her when she was my *enemy* and was completely lost and confused, completely at my mercy, and instead of taking advantage of that situation- I offered her a hand and a place to stay. Somewhere safe until she could clear her thoughts once more. I helped her when she ran, when she tried to find refuge first among the Decepticons and later in the town of Nyon. I *always* tried to do the right thing by her. Even when...." His voice cracks for the first time, "Even when it *hurt*. When it was difficult. When it would have been SO easy to give in to my own... selfish wants- and believe me, she *didn't* help me any there," ***Oh PRIMUS that time she knocked him over and was JIGGLING on top of him and... no no no no, don't think of that now*** "...I STILL always tried to do the right thing by her. Because *someone* needed to. She's experienced enough *slag* in her life, she didn't need it from the people who cared about her. Not when she was... so young."
He looks away, then, working to maintain control of his emotions and try to hold onto that semblence of *aloof* he always tries to. "And people DID care. Because she was *worth* caring about. She was a flickering flame that burnt out far too fast, but she did NOT deserve what happened to her- did NOT deserve to be snuffed out."
Now there's a sharp note to his tone. "Death was NOT a mercy. If this world had had any *mercy*, she would not have been tortured and killed by that nasty, rust-pitted excuse of a Senator. If there was any *mercy* in this world, then someone would have been there to STOP that. *I* would have been there to stop it!!" His armor plates begin to bristle. "I don't care if you are her, or aren't, or... or what you are. You must NOT be that connected to her spark, for if you were... you'd *know* the kind of person you disparage now. And know that she did NOT deserve that. Not at all."
"That nasty, rust-pitted senator is now my kin." Pursuit lets that one sink in on Blast Off: That's right - Ratbat is one of Soundwave's, and Soundwave is Dad #2.
Pursuit finishes the last of her paperwork, and sets the datapads and digital stamps aside, clearing the table of them in front of her. She folds her hands together, and looks Blast Off square in the optics.
"It's obvious you loved her - loved me - but you are not qualified to sit in judgment of what I am now. It's my spark, my former life; our personalities are exactly the same, the only difference between us is experiences and time. I am what Shiftlock would have become with proper training and normal upbringing. She likely would have been an enforcer or police officer in any number of polities across Cybertron, had she not been plucked out of nurturing in Nyon. I'll tell you this for nothing, sir: If I had been subjected to a life without hope, to being forced to choose between multiple people, multiple ideologies - I would have seen death as mercy too. I would have begged to have had my life ended, because a life without hope and purpose is the ultimate torture."
"I never said it was deserved - those are your words, not mine - I said that death was the greatest mercy afforded her."
Her words bring Blast Off's tirade to a halt. The armor stops bristling and smooths down once again as his entire demeanor goes from outraged to something more subdued. The sharp gaze drops away and he glances off to the side, now appearing a little chagrined. "I... I am sorry. I did not mean to... offend." One hand reaches over and starts absent-mindedly picking at the heat shield of his other arm.
He's never experienced anything quite like this, or had something like this happen to someone he loved. And now he's feeling as lost as Shiftlock once did. And knowing that Pursuit *knows* only makes it worse somehow. He finally looks back to the femme. "...I could see her as a police officer, yes. She... you... you both wished to protect others." he blinks. "Do wish?..." It's confusing. The rest of her words sting- from being called "sir" (normally something he *likes* being called, but it is also so... formal, too) to how she would have chosen death. A faint wince shadows across his face at that before vanishing again.
"...Again, my... apologies." His voice is is quiet, working very deliberately to stay calm and cultured. "...If it was what she felt, and wanted, that is... a tragedy then. A tragedy that she never really seemed to know how much she... meant to..." He glances away, "Well, to some people. What a ...void in the sky she left. The loss that is... still felt even today." His hand suddenly reaches up to scratch at his faceplate and quickly interject, "....Not that that's any of your concern. That's... the past, not the present."
Pursuit reaches across the table and puts a hand over one of Blast Off's, if he allows it.
"This is why I want to serve and protect," she explains very gently. "So that the sky doesn't become an empty void."
Blast Off freezes as she places a hand over his, his nervous scratching and picking ceasing as he finally stills. He simply stares at her for a long moment, violet optics locked onto her red ones. And then slowly the shuttleformer... relaxes, a sense of palpable relief washing over him. Tinged with bittersweet, but still there.
"She would... like that." He suddenly blinks and shakes his head. "I... I mean, well... *I* would like that. That is very much in her... her spirit. I mean..." Blast Off looks up once more. "You're not her, of course, but... then again you *are*, and I..." He seems to be searching for the words as if they might suddenly appear before him and spring into his speech, "I am sorry, it's a little confusing."
"I imagine it is. It's confusing for me to have people stare at me and expect me to be someone I only know of in videos and through the information of others," Pursuit says. "Just be yourself. Blast Off. Say what you mean, what you think. Be truthful." Ironic, seeing as how they're decepticons. "And then go from there."
"Yes...I imagine so." Blast Off still can't believe he's actually having this conversation. That she knows all this, and that he's finally been able to *say* some of the things that had bothered him- those things left unsaid- for so long. But he's also aware how awkward this could be for her. His spare hand comes up to rub briefly at the back of his helmet. "And- I do not expect you to be her, or... or to ever see me as anything except another Decepticon. I'm... not trying to dredge up your... her?... past." His gaze becomes thoughtful and the hand drops away. "You seem... happier than she did and I would not wish to ever change that by intruding on your life."
"I will... be truthful. I was... trying NOT to ...well, dredge up that past, but since you already know about it...I just..." His head tilts slightly. "I was just trying to see how much of her was still... in there."
"I'm not sure myself. Different experiences make different people, after all," she says.
And then she pauses.
"Truthfully, some part of me wants to take you to berth to console you in your grief. Is that the sort of 'risk-taking' you were looking for?"
Blast Off takes that first comment in with a nod. "...I can imagine that would be confusing for you, as well, then. Especially when faced with your... her... past." He's still not sure what to call it. "I have never... encountered this before ...it's uncharted territory for me. Though it must be even moreso for you."
And then she says THAT. There's a slight hiccup in his ventilation systems again as optics flare wide open and stare. The hand she's still holding twitches slightly. Gazing deep into her optics, he finds himself leaning forward before he thinks better of it. Before he thinks at *all* really.
"You have no idea how much I would like that, oh the things I'd like to /show/ you... the *adventure* we could have..." A grin starts spreading under that faceplate and his hand turns to hold hers as well. "There is SO much I'd like to say, to do..."
And then he stops again. A cycled suck of air, a stiffened neck as he brings his head up. As thought strikes again. His hold on her hand doesn't lessen, but his optic ridges furrow down.
Thought One: Barricade would kill him, for one.
PFFFT. Who cares. Worth it.
Thought Two: It's impulsive.
That does make him pause. ".... But... you don't even know me." More thoughts strike, all of them ones he doesn't want to think about- but he must. Because, slag it all, he /IS/ going to continue doing the right thing for her, even if it /hurts/. And oh how this /does/. "...Shiftlock was a little too... quick ... too impulsive, and I- I don't want to be the one to send you back on that path."
He's learned one lesson, and he's not going to blow it this time. He's spent 20,000 years thinking he's never get to say what he really felt, and he's not blowing this unexpected opportunity now. "And don't get me wrong...." He gives her hand a squeeze, savoring the moment- the fact that he /can/ hold her hand. "I would *love* to. I'm just... still trying to do the right thing by her..." He softens a bit. "By you."
A shadow flickers by, an unbidden thought, and he declines to tell her this one. For how can he say it? He carries Whirl's memories. What if she wanted to interface? What if they did? What if she saw those memories? What then? He's not sure.
"I... I do love risk. I do love pushing.. boundaries. But I don't love... hurting those I... care about."
And then... there's Whirl. Period. Speaking of not hurting those he loves..... what about Whirl?
"Me either. I was just curious if that was anything like Shiftlock," Pursuit states. "I know better than to act on impulse."
Blast Off is mostly relieved to hear this. Mostly. That part of him that still pines away over "lost love" laments just a little, if love is even what it ever was (though perhaps something /was/ there, if she carries some small thought of "taking him to berth"... well, she must not have hated him at least. He /hopes/).
Regaining a bit of his own senses, the Combaticon allows himself a small chuckle. His old desire to find love with Shiftlock and his current love for the cyclops swirl about in his head. It's an uneasy tango up there, and he was just now nearly swept away with hopes of following up on lost opportunities... but he really doesn't want to hurt either Pursuit or Whirl. "That is... commendable, Pursuit. Yes... Shiftlock was highly impulsive, and it brought her much grief."
He clears his throat a little, looking away. "I... anyway, pardon. I am not... impulsive myself." Usually.
"Very well. But I -do- feel sorry for you in your grief. It bothers me to know that I'm a source of pain in any regard. Yes, I understand it's beyond my control, but that does not stop the fact that I empathize with your pain, and wish to see it gone," Pursuit states. It's what Shiftlock had always felt, but could never quite express (or think through) as eloquently as now.
Blast Off is feeling like he's made a fool of himself now. The shuttleformer fights looking flustered, tries to stay aloof, though there's a slight wing elevon twitch and he rubs the back of his helmet again while looking away. When Pursuit speaks, his gaze breaks only slowly from that distant stare, eventually returning to look at her once more. His hand comes down and rests on the table.
"No, it's not your fault. It must simpy seem strange having people come up with certain.. expectations, or questions, or ...unresolved issue... and not even know what they're talking about. The memories you only ghost along the periphery of. It must be... extremely awkward." He finds another random thing to look at, feeling awkward himself. "I... I don't think there's much you can do." His face lifts up to hers once more. "Unless..." Another pause, "Unless you simply...." For an erudite and sophisticated gentlemech, why does he feel like a bumbling newspark all of a sudden? "If you ever wanted to... talk I... I would be around. I mean... as Pursuit, not as Shiftlock, I am not seeking something that... isn't there."
Pursuit gets up from her seat, walking around the table, and sits down next to Blast Off, right beside him. "Let me do this much, then. I'll be impulsive... within reason," she says gently, as she attempts to put her arms around Blast Off and pull him into a comforting embrace.
Blast Off is still certain he's made a huge fool of himself. Smelt, Pursuit must just be laughing at him inwardly right now but is simply too polite to let on. Yes, that's probably it. The shuttleformer's hand pinches the bridge of his nose briefly before flitting away again. "Anyway, I... I didn't mean to waste your time..." He's about to stand up and flee in embarrassment when she stands up instead- and comes to sit right next to him. He stares.
And then she hugs him. Blast Off stiffens in surprise, optics going wide again. In some ways, this should be extremely awkward, extremely... foreign. This is essentially a new person, certainly a new frame. It should just make the standoffish shuttle want to flinch away, right? And yet... there is something so familiar about that touch, that gentleness, that caring and that electrical field... that Blast Off's tense surprise soon melts away. His demeanor softens to a bittersweet wistfulness as his hand comes up to clasp gently onto her arm. Then, slowly, both arms come up and he returns the embrace. Ironically, his ability to hug, to love, to simply give in to an affectionate gesture has been nurtured by none other than Whirl, the mech who did such wrong to Pursuit once long ago. That thought adds a tinge of the sadness the Combaticon feels, but he lets those thoughts come and leave again as he finds comfort in this embrace.
"Whenever you need someone to listen and care, just ask. I'll do my best," Pursuit murmurs.