Storytime

It's been a handful of days since Exoletus was exhumed from the living death of her rubble tomb, and the quiet of stasis lock was broken by makeshift repairs. No one understood her, and nothing was as she remembered it. After forcibly ripping information from the brain of an unfortunate miner in Tarn (who will nonetheless live to have recurring nightmares of the incident), she has learned that this is no longer her world. She went to sleep under debris, expecting death. She's been resurrected into a miserable ghetto full of slaves - slaves who have decided to oppress each other for lack of their original masters.
She sits at the entrance of the Acropolex, once the capital of Cybertron, a golden beacon of civilization and order, now all but a ruin. It's fitting. The two relics keep each other in silent company.
Quiet never lasts in Nyon. One might expect interruption of this quiet contemplation come from the city around, but it is actually from within the Acroplex that trouble emerges. The sound of Hot Rod's voice and flash of his paint job provide early warning of his arrival. "--just curious how much you got, I guess," he's asking Rewind as he walks. "I mean, we can tell people and we can tell people, but seeing it is different. And I want people to /see/ that the Enforcers fired first." He looks quite comfortable in the grand ruins, although perhaps not as respectful of the history suggested by its walls.
Did someone say silent company? Screw that (no) noise! Whirl is here to mess all of that up. The bulk of his alt mode casts a shadow over the ruins as he passes over head, rotors kicking up debris as he steadily lowers himself to the ground, his underside just barely touching down before transforming into the lovable (yeah right) weirdo cyclops we all know and love.
"Well well well, if it isn't my favorite squid lady," Whirl says ever so charmingly as he approaches Exoletus on his brand new, shiny, still unpainted legs. "How long have you been standing here in silence? That's kind of creepy."
Rewind is looking up at Hot Rod, scrambling to keep up with the larger mech (and his longer legs). Alas, the life of a dataslug. "Most of it, yes. I got some of the buildup to the big dramatic finale, including the fact that the Enforcers shot first. Moonlight was an immense help, too.... you should see the aerial footage I got later!" He taps at the camera on his helmet. "But I agree- seeing is believing. That's the power of the camera. It's a persuasive tool- which is why it's so important to show things AS they are, and not edit anything."'.
Exoletus looks over at Whirl. "I am uncertain. Possibly an entire day - I am still coming to terms with this place, processing the information given me. I am trying to decide what I will do now, as I have no purpose left to my existence," she explains, her tentacles wibbling a little in distress.
Hot Rod gives Rewind a broad grin of delight. "Awesome. I thought about maybe just cutting it for highlights, but you know -- you're right. I think it's even better if we can show that it wasn't edited. That we're actually telling people the truth, as it really is." Conviction shines: in his voice, in his face, reflecting off all that shiny gold he's slapped on the red. /Idealists/.
Not quite so blinded by his vision of truth, justice, and freedom that he fails to notice the others, Hot Rod slows. Yet with Exoletus such a /distinct/ silhouette and Whirl so very ... Whirl, a moment later recognition is followed by a wave. "Hey!" he calls, moving to intercept. His voice is bright in a way that is inappropriate to the distress and contemplation on which he imposes himself.
Another day, another ration. In a nearby alleyway, there has been a small commotion of work being done for quite some time. Some repairwork being done to the side of a building as well as cleanup for the subsequent debris; it's practically covered in disposables of all sorts just doing their jobs. 
Right now, though, it seems to be break time. A small group of cleaning bots -- covered in filth and dust and a black sort of liquid that isn't readily identifiable -- walks out of the alleyway, each carrying a small ration cube. Four of them, and they all look pretty miserable.
"Oh." It's all Whirl can say in response to Exoletus' extremely depressing situation. Seriously, what is he supposed to say to that? 'That's not true, you still have purpose'? That is obviously a lie. "That sucks," he adds, as if it would help at all.
Thankfully Hot Rod does what Hot Rod does best and rudely intrudes on this extremely awkward conversation. "Hey, look, it's Heated Cylinder!" Whirl waves his arms at the mech. "HEATED CYLINDER! HEY!"
Rewind beams right back at Hot Rod, pleased that he could be of help and that the other mech shares his convictions about the importance of honesty in reporting. "Yes! We can build trust that way, and trust is vital. As an archivist, it's important to me for people to always know that I'm giving them the facts- not just my slant on them. That way THEY can make informed choices. And that is really what we need to be striving for- a world where people can make informed choices- and have those choices respected." 
As they walk up upon Exoletus and Whirl, Rewind stops to take in the sight. "Oh! Is that... Exoletus, right?" He talked to Exoletus on radio, but hasn't met her in person. But one look, and he can guess it's her. He glances over at Whirl, too... he's heard about him but hasn't really met him yet. Poor mech. Yet another refugee of the corrupt government they are fighting against. But.... he glances to Hot Rod. "Heated Cylinder?" The dataslug doesn't notice the cleaning bots... yet.
Rewind beams right back at Hot Rod, pleased that he could be of help and that the other mech shares his convictions about the importance of honesty in reporting. "Yes! We can build trust that way, and trust is vital. As an archivist, it's important to me for people to always know that I'm giving them the facts- not just my slant on them. That way THEY can make informed choices. And that is really what we need to be striving for- a world where people can make informed choices- and have those choices respected." 
As they walk up upon Exoletus and Whirl, Rewind stops to take in the sight. "Oh! Is that... Exoletus, right?" He talked to Exoletus on radio, but hasn't met her in person. But one look, and he can guess it's her. He glances over at Whirl, too... Ah, /that guy/. Rewind edges a little closer to Hot Rod, just in case Whirl's in one of those moods. One of those moods he *always* seems to be in. 
Still, poor mech. Yet another refugee of the corrupt government they are fighting against. But.... he glances to Hot Rod. "Heated Cylinder?" The dataslug doesn't notice the cleaning bots... yet.
Four little disposables, all in a row. They don't move far from the work site; at the edge of the sidewalk, they sit down on the ledge and partake in their rations. 
They still look pretty miserable. They're even covered in dents and a few scratches. One of them looks like he's been through a grinder and put back together. Most pass them by and don't really seem to notice.
At Hot Rod's greeting Exo stands and bows to the flamey-chested mech. "Salutations, master. I had thought perhaps I had lost you. I was unable to deal with the fast intruder. I await my punishment."
She's good at making an awkward conversation even MORE awkward. And in sharing the fun.
"Yeah." Hot Rod looks delighted by Rewind's words: spark fueled by the better, brighter future they suggest. His expression tips smirkish as he adds, "It's great when they make it so easy for us, though. I'm just glad Drift got away okay." He buries concern as he glances over the passing cleaning bots with a searching gaze, looking for a more familiar face among the rest. His search is brief, and quickly falls away as he turns to Whirl in exasperation.
"Not you too, Whirl! It's Hot Rod! Ex, if I'm still being called that in, like, a million years--" Which is so far away, right? "--then I'm blaming you." To Rewind, he explains, "Translation error," on a puff of frustration that rattles through his vents to freeze at Exoletus's greeting. "Aw, no. No, no, no. Nope. We're definitely not doing the master thing, okay? Look, Blurr's fast -- /really/ fast. He gets paid to be fast. It's okay."
"Aw come on, don't give her a hard time. I think Heated Cylinder is a much better name than /Hot Rod/." Whirl says his name so sarcastically you can almost imagine him rolling his nonexistant pair of optics as he does so. Exoletus' awkward greeting to Heated Cylinder himself gets a disapproving head shake from the cyclops. "I understand that there's a bit of a learning curve here but I feel like you're not even trying."
Rewind ahs and nods at Hot Rod's response, "Yes... that whole situation could have been a lot worse." Then he blinks at Exodus's greeting to Hot Rod and... and what? The small mech then stares up at Rod. "/Master/?" 
Upon spotting the cleaning bots, Rewind stiffens just slightly. OOOO. THAT GUY. What... well... actually, guys that LOOK like that guy. The one who nearly decapitated him earlier. Though who knows if that particular cleaning bot is among this bunch. He studies the group, then turns to Exodus. "Hi, I'm Rewind. I believe we talked to each other on the radio... back when you were speaking Primal Vernacular. I was the one who translated for everyone."
Oh, hey, is that...? One of the cleaning bots murmurs something to his companions before getting up and walking towards the flame-bearing mech. The other three cleaning drones watch him intensely. 
Yup, that's YX-939! Frankly, he looks the healthiest out of the group, with only a couple of new scars here and there. "Hi again." He's a little quieter than he was the last time, but apparently no less daring. 
Hey, Rewind. It's THAT GUY.
"Small one," Exoletus states formally to Rewind. "Thank you for translating for me. I am in your debt - you seem to know more than the others. Are you a recorder?" She lets Rewind answer that at his leisure, while snorting at both Hot Rod and Whirl's disappointment in her response. "I am still uncertain as to why you are offended by the designations I choose. It's as if you are ashamed of the word slave or master - you should not be. I looked into the mind of a miner in Tarn, and from everything I saw in his head, you are all still slaves with masters, you've simply chosen different names."
Hot Rod holds up his hands in a silent protest of innocence. He fends off Rewind's stare with a shrug. omg he told her not to!!
Looking down at YX-939, Hot Rod gives him a quick, crooked smile. His expression is a touch wary. "You guys look kind of rough. You okay? Please tell me you're not going to shout for help again."
He might say more, but then Exoletus goes and gets him wound up again: "Okay, let's hear it," says Hot Rod. "How do you see /that/?"
IT IS THAT GUY. Rewind's fists (tiny as they are) clench as YX-939 approaches Hot Rod and speaks. "Hey! I remember YOU!" He points a finger at the cleaning bot. "You tried to BEHEAD me!" 
He is pulled from his *righteous indignation* by Exoletus. "Oh! Um, no problem." Now his hand is back behind his helmet, scratching sheepishly. "No, you're fine... I was just trying to help out. It's nothing." His hand lowers, then he answers, "Well... I'm an archivist. It's my job to keep records and a sense of history."
YX-939 looks up at Hot Rod; he looks a little... Haunted. More so than usual, at any rate. "...We had a problem with bugs." He takes a sip of his ration. "I'm not going to yell again. Is everything okay? You --" Then Rewind starts yelling. 
YX-939 jumps in surprise! He stares at Rewind in absolute confusion. "...I what?!"
Whirl crosses his arms and looks... well, like he always does. "Yes, I am also eager to hear your theory on how we are all slaves still. I assume it's going to be something along the lines of us being slaves to the government or society or something along those lines?"
He then looks down (and down and down, seriously they're so tiny~) at Rewind and the slightly less miserable looking cleaning bot. "Woah! You mean to tell me tiny guys try to murder eachother like regular sized guys do too? Do you guys use tiny guns and swords?"
"The Miner was what is called a 'disposable caste'," Exoletus begins, walking up a couple of steps to a minor platform on the Acropolex, before having a seat again. "From his mind, I saw that you are all divided into castes, and that your lives and functions are determined by a group far away, and enforced by soldiers and masters in higher castes. You are divided by your alternate moves, the skills and information you are allowed to learn are locked to those alternate modes, and you are not allowed to dwell, socialize or bond with those not of your caste or class. How is that not slavery? You have not changed at all since the Quintessons ruled this world," she both asks and states to Hot Rod.
Rewind and YX-939's argument catcher her attention, and Whirl's outburst only adds to the distraction. She chuckles faintly.
"Oo, yeah, Insecticons can be rough if you don't speak the language," says Hot Rod all casual like bug language is totally a commonly understood ... thing. (Spoiler: it isn't.) "Just don't try to behead Rewind again and we'll be cool." He drops his hand briefly on Rewind's shoulder -- as much reassurance and implied protection as an attempt to keep Rewind from leaping at YX-939 and tearing him apart. Who knows! Tiny people can totally be fierce, right?
Hot Rod's expression trapped somewhere between appalled and amused as he looks at Whirl, he then gives Rewind and YX-939 a thoughtful look. "Huh. /Is/ arming you going to be a problem?" he asks the former. Not that he's going around arming disposables for an uprising or anything. Noooo.
Glancing at Exoletus, Hot Rod points out, "Not everyone believes in that scrap. There are a good number of people working against it. I don't entirely disagree with you calling it slavery -- but it's changing. Like it did before, I guess."
Rewind points his finger at YX again. "Yes! It's GOT to be you! You threw that... that disc at me, nearly took my head clean off... why if I hadn't happened to sort of *duck* right then and there, it... it could have gotten very ugly let me tell you!" Then Whirl addresses the both of them, and Rewind looks up at the cyclops. "VERY FUNNY. Except it WASN'T, not if you LIVED it! ... I tell you, this guy isn't nearly as innocent as he seems!" 
Hot Rod's hand on his shoulder seems to calm him some, though. The small mech seems to relax a bit, then consider Rod's question. "Hmm. I don't think so. There are all kinds of weapons, after all. All shapes and sizes and functions." He seems to frown under his faceplate. "Do you... do you think I'm going to NEED a weapon?" The gray 'bot looks at his hands, as if trying to imagine holding a weapon in it.
YX-939 looks entirely taken aback. He just sort of stands there for a few minutes -- looking very much the part of the innocent! -- in complete flabbergasted confusion. "...But the enforcers gave us those to help them. They wouldn't give us something that... Does THAT." 
The other three cleaning bots all look VERY ALARMED.
"I don't know if it really counts as slavery if you choose to go along with it," Whirl says, leaning against a conveniently placed pile of rubble. "Yeah, it feels like you don't ave a choice sometimes because of how strictly the rules are enforced but it can be done. I mean, look at me! I actually changed my function. /Changed my function./ Seems unheard of, right? Well I did it and I turned out okay." He looks at his claws. "...Kind of. Anyway, I also said SCREW THAT to the whole 'caste system' thing. I've got some low caste friends, and a few high caste ones and that turned out-" He pauses as he thinks about Blast Off.
"..I'm going to stop talking now."
"Let me ask you all a question, then: What do you know about the Quintessons? Their empire? What happened to this world when they are here? The miner's mind held -nothing-. Have you all forgotten your past?" Exoletus asks everyone present.
"Okay first off, that was more than one question," Whirl replies and.. that's it. He just stares at Exoletus because he really knows nothing about the Quintessons or any history that the government hasn't spun to suit their own needs.
"You saw the fields those things put out, right? What do you think would've happened if something -- someone," Hot Rod adds with a nod at Rewind (and his head) "was in the way of them? It would've gone right through. Enforcers don't much care about collateral damage as long as they get what they want."
Folding his arms over his chest, Hot Rod looks back at Exoletus. "No one I know has ever heard more than rumors. From what I have heard, I'm thinking that maybe we weren't told because no one wants us overthrowing /this/ set of would-be masters, like we did before. Like we will again."
Rewind would /huff/ at YX if he was capable of it, but he isn't, so he settles for looking /VERY CROSS INDEED/ at YX and his fellow cleaning bots. "OH YES they would! Open your optics, there's suffering all around- and the Enforcers don't care! Sometimes they even ADD to it!" Exoletus gains his interest again, however. HISTORY, did someone say HISTORY? "We... know some things, but I am willing to bet that you know things we have forgotten. Please tell us! I have SO many gaps in my ancient history, I'd like to archive this for the future..." Hot Rod reiterates what he was saying, and he nods. "Yes, exactly!"
At first, YX-939 just blinks at Hot Rod and Rewind. Then, he frowns. "I... I thought they were... Containment... bubble things." Yeah, he has no idea. "Because it just made a bubble...?" 
Also, it took this long for YX-939 to even notice Exoletus was there. He blinks up, at first startled, then... Confused. "...I don't know what that is, sir."
Sitting on the steps of the Acropolex, Exoletus extends her tentacles (all ten!) and gestures for everyone to have a seat. "No need to stand. I will tell you what you seem to have forgotten, and if you can learn from it, do. Those who do not remember their pasts are vulnerable to be exploited again."
"When the Quintessons found your world, it was a ruin, the surface scorched, perhaps by some great solar flare. You were hiding underground, hibernating, perhaps having fled from what ever great cataclysm had assaulted your planet. When you awoke, you began crawling to the surface like timid retrorats. You were ignorant children abandoned by whatever had forged you."
"The Magistrates came to you as benevolent gods, a Hand to Guide you out of your barbarism. You were given civilization, language, writing, education, and given a purpose to your existence. In turn, you became servants of the Quintessons, a protectorate world under their authority."
Civilized. To bring a place to a stage of social, moral, and cultural development to be considered more advanced. That might be true of most Cybertronians, but there are obviously those that the Quintessons had to miss, right? 
Of course there is. There's always those stragglers. And well, those that are probably proud to be 'uncivilized'. Arriving on one of the side streets in the city of ruins, Slag looks around and scratches his chin in thought. A retrorat runs across the boot of his foot shielding and he gives it a kick, sending it flying with a flailing screech. 
"All ruins. All destroyed. Rust. Very messy. Easy to destroy. I like it. I like it very much." Slag says to himself, not that when he's talking to himself, he's very quiet. "I do not this wall." he rumbles and slams a fist into the wall, collapsing it and kicking up dust. 
"This is Slag's home now." he announces proudly with a snort. "Trespassers will be smashed." And with that, he starts to explore what he has claimed as Slagland and makes his way towards the gathering at the steps. Stomp stomp. 
Hot Rod gives YX-939 a pitying glance. "Yeah, a bubble right through his head," he mutters.
When Exoletus recaptures his attention, Hot Rod can't help but look at Rewind with a grin. "Eat it up, nerd," he says with cheerful teasing. And yet as she speaks, he looks offended on the planet's behalf. "Sounds to me like they found a people in need and abused that." After a brief pause for skeptical reflection, he asks, "Is this the history that /they/ told you? Because I've got a few reservations about this whole 'benevolent gods' thing!"
Hot Rod looks like he might go on, but then there's someone punching walls nearby and -- weirder yet! -- it /isn't/ Whirl. He breaks off to glance over. It's somewhat inevitable that the first thing he looks for is an Autobot brand. (Can't trust 'em.)
Rewind glares a little more at YX, but mostly focuses on Exoletus now. His camera is recording all this, naturally. Though his attention is diverted somewhat by Slag SMASHING WALLS with his fist. The small mech's optics widen, and he gets THAT on video, too. Then he glances up at Hot Rod, giving him a little *hmph* that sounds half-annoyed and half-amused before doing just that.
Little YX-939 doesn't look like he knows WHAT to believe, but he certainly looks distressed. He looks from Hot Rod to Rewind and back and -- Oh. The tentacle lady is telling a story. He turns to look. 
In fact, the other three cleaning bots have now wandered over. 
...And then Slag punches things. They all jump, turn, and STARE.
As the group gathers around Exoletus for story time, Blurr is busy searching for an access point into this datanet Hot Rod has up. How does he know about this network, one might ask? Well, as it turns out, one of those people sitting around in front of the Acroplex right now is an inadvertent spy. And it wasn't the first time he'd ever acted on the part of the government, either. Though last time was a bit more intentional.
But YX would always be happy to help bring about justice, right? Anything to feel significant. Well then he'd be delighted to know that the information he unknowingly provided to security while cleaning the back of an old dive bar in the Rust Narrows was incredibly useful!
So having identified the exact location of the bar, the racer had set out to find it--and attempt to use that particular access point to upload a series of malicious code to the network. If anyone is paying close attention to their surroundings, they -might- spot him walking into the bar across the street.
There's an Autobot brand alright, Rod. Except it's old. Scrapped through - practically looks like it was clawed out. Probably hasn't been cleaned up in a long time. As he hears and then sees mechs standing around on /his/ property - see he just claimed it - the large mech trundles forward, the hulking frame kicking up fine powder from the street. 
Noticing Rewind turning a camera on him, Slag looks at Rewind. His optic panel narrows, and his knuckle actuators crack as he flexes his fingers and stared down the small mech. "What you looking at?" he asks as he turns his attention to Exoletus. 
"You tell funny story. Keep telling Slag funny story." 
"Hah! So some of the beasts survived!" Exo states with no small amount of mirth at Slag. "Yes, there were many bleached endoskeletons of creatures like your alt mode. I am actually quite pleased to see that your frame still exists." The little mass of sad, sad, hungry cleaner bots gets her attention. "What the Masters found were like these," she says, pointing to YX's cluster with multiple left tentacles. "Oh yes, the Masters imposed order, but they provided for ones such as these. My very duty, in fact, was to tend to the maintenance and well-being of the chattel under my dominion. I would never have allowed such a sad state to befall my charges."
"But you are correct in your suspicion, Heated--" Ahem. "/Hot Rod/. As a member of the Quintesson Co-Prospertity Sphere, your kind were uplifted from poverty and primitivism to become servants - and merchandise. I do not know what gods you once worshiped, but the Masters successfully convinced you that their five faces meant they were five gods."
Rewind is still focused on Exoletus, though Slag gets his attention (because hey, Slag tends to get *anyone's attention, and imagine that "anyone" happens to be a very small mech). The archivist stares up at Slag's question... and knuckle crackling, and just sheer HUGEness, and.... Rewind finds himself sort of scooting a little behind Hot Rod for security. "I'm.... uh, just archiving! It's what I do! Honest!"
"He can look at whatever he /wants/ to look at." Hot Rod backs up Rewind without thought or hesitation when Slag stares him down. He stands solid in front of Rewind -- and never mind that Slag can punch harder. His gaze passes back across the brand and lingers there, unsure of what to make of the state of it -- but already obviously on guard. He misses Blurr zipping by in the background, rather more focused on the immediate threat.
"The only people the Senate provides for are themselves." Hot Rod glances down at YX-939 and his friends with bleeding spark dismay. "Bet they'd just love to pass themselves off as gods, too."
As Slag seems to be joining in on story time, the little disposables actually calm down. Though, they edge away and give him a decently wide berth. 
YX-939 looks at Exoletus with wide-optic wonder. "That sounds amazing..." As if wishing to live that time!
"Go film something else. Had enough cameras on me when Autobots thought to control me." Slag growls, and as Hot Rod steps in the way, the large mech looks like he is actually about to do some of that punching thing that he is known for, when something else is said that certainly grabs attention. "Beast? Smelter calling the furnace black, is what I see. You claim I am beast? I was not offered this mode as a /gift/. And if you want it, you can come get it from my deactivated carcass." he says in a direct promise, before stomping his foot. "More on story. Faces not gods. Faces funny." he rumbles, as he causes yet another tremor with a stomp of his foot and turns his attention towards Exoletus again, though a glimmer of something catches the corner of his optics and he glances in the direction of Blurr and a low growl rises in his vocals. Probably can smell the Prowlstink on him from here. 
'Prowlstink' might not be quite the right term there, but Blurr is certainly and very blatantly wearing the First Face on his chassis. He takes on a more casual stance as he enters the dive and walks up to the bartender. Instead of ordering a drink, however, he slaps a search warrant down on the counter and fixes him with an expectant look. Hopefully the mech cooperates, though with all the rabble rousing Hot Rod's been doing in this city, it seems hardly likely.
Whirl has been sitting with his knees crossed and his head held in his hands listening intently to Exoletus' story like it was the best story ever. In reality, he's only sort of listening, most of his focus on the odd femme's even odder tentacles. There's just something about them he finds hypnotizing, he can't even explain it himself.
"WOAH!" He looks around and notices Slag for the first time just now. "How long have you been here?"
Inside the bar, the appearance of an Autobot is met with little welcome. Conversations dry up. People find reason to finish their drinks. And there's a mutter in the corner, a mutter that goes, "You know they just shoot people if they don't like them now."
Mutter or no mutter, the bartender just polishes his glass, because that's what bartender's do, and gives Blurr an unimpressed look. "What's this about, then?" He glances past Blurr to the lone server moving between tables, but whatever passes between them is not spoken aloud.
"Yes, I know that I am a beast form, but yours is more ancient," Exoletus points out. "I was culled from the other slaves and the Masters altered my CNA into what I am now. Perhaps at one time I was like any of the rest of you, but no longer." She points to Hot Rod's chest, and then to Whirl's (at the same time). "These holes in your body - they were put there by the Quintessons. Your CNA was altered, like mine, so that you could serve as vehicles for them to travel in. It was once a high honor to carry a Quintesson master, and 'Cybertronians' did so gladly."
She continues. "When your numbers grew large, we separated you by your frametype into different areas, and trained you for your future work. Some we kept on this planet, and others we sold to other species aross the galaxies. You were invaluable in this means, fulling both the need for military hardware and consumer goods."
Rewind looks up at Slag, happy to use Hot Rod as a sort of shield. Hot Rod is pretty cool, the small mech thinks. I mean, he's COOOOL~ alright, yes, but he's cool too, you know what I mean? "Uh... I can uh, focus on Exoletus here.... Not trying to cause trouble...." Despite being a Team member of it. 
Then Exoletus speaks, and Rewind goes back to trying to listen- he is trying to record all this, after all. The small mech's hand subconsciously goes to his chest, as if trying to imagine *carrying* something- or someone- in there. "What about.... what about us?" He asks quietly. "The disposables..."
"What's it -look- like?" Blurr asks impatiently, pushing the document forward so that he can see it more clearly. "Or haven't you ever seen a search warrant before?" If this had been some other city besides Nyon, or really any city that wasn't chock full of dissidents and rebels, he probably would've gone the charm route, given his position and reputation. But here? It's not likely to do any good.
"Some of the intel I've come across pointed to suspicious activity in the area. So," he nods toward the door leading into the distillery. "Cooperate, and we won't have to make a scene."
The cleaning bots are just RAPT with attention on Exoletus. Do they even remember that they were only out for a short break? 
"Yeah..." One of YX-939's cleaning buddies mumbles. "What about us disposables...?" They are just so INTERESTED and AMAZED!
Despite the edge of almost-violence, Hot Rod's expression brightens as he regards Slag. "Definitely not an Autobot kind of camera," he reassures. "You're among friends. Well. Mostly." He can't help but glance in the direction of their resident persistent loyalist.
At the point to his chest, Hot Rod starts to cross his arms, then changes his mind and sets his hands on his hips. His pose is a posture of confidence layered confusion. "/Hardware and goods/? What a bunch of scrap. All of this -- separating, by frametype, by function. That's where it starts. Every time someone wants more power, they try to turn us against each other, tell us we're different, when we should be working as one, instead."
Exoletus breaks out the big words. "You said yourself you are from old time. Maybe you are the hole. Noone to serve. Why serve anyone? Serve self." Slag comments as he makes a noise akin to spitting on the ground. Glancing again at the bar, he makes a face. "You use too many big words. Boring story. Have better one next time." he comments to the femme as he turns his attention to the bar and stomps towards it. 
As he enters the establishment and looks around, his optics taking it in and then growls as he notices Blurr. "Autobot. You are not welcomed here. Take warrant, shove up your aft, ride it out of here. This is Dynobot land now. And you. And your ilk. Are /not/ welcomed. Leave. Or not. Please don't leave. Make me make you leave." Slag says with a smile darkening his features. 
Whirl STARES at the tentacle as it points to his unnecessarily large chest. He admits that before Exoletus told him the reason behind his, and everyone else's, hollow cockpit he had no idea what it was for. All he knew is that they made awesome places to hide things like drugs and weapons and bootleg energon. "This is kind of blowing my mind."
"Search warrant for what?" asks the bartender, all polish-polish-polish as Blurr speaks. Glancing past Blurr to Slag's entrance, he calls, "Free drink for you if you get him out of here!" Oooo. A free drink. Oooo. (What a cheap reward.)
The server slips by on his way through the door marked by Blurr's nod. Probably just to get more drinks for someone, right?
"What are called 'disposables' served positions higher than they do now. Personal servants were well valued by the masters. Beasts were kept as soldiers and heralds. I laugh now - the lowest slaves, the ones we sold? They now hold the positions of power in your heirarchy of functionism, while oppressing those who were once favored by the Magistrates," Exoletus says to the little cleaner bots and Rewind. She turns to look at Whirl and Hot Rod. "Rebellion and revolution came to the Quintessons who occupied here when it was discovered that they were not gods whose very touch unlocked transformation in Cybertronians. Oh yes, you had been 'had', and the information spread far and fast. The merchandise rebelled, and among them, somehow, a Light had come, granting leadership."
"Classified, sorry." Blurr smirks. He glances briefly behind him when Slag barges in and demands that he leave, then demands that he stay so that he can beat the scap out of him. Pff, what a brute. The racer also notices the server slip into the back, which had to have required the door to unlocke and open, right...?
Whoops, out of time! He suddenly whips out that same Techvolt he used on Flatline the other cycle and fires it directly at the bartender. Whether it hits or not is disregarded however, as the speedster dashes toward the door in an attempt to slip into the back before it closes behind the other bar worker.
Rewind listens raptly to Exodus, though he frowns under his faceplate. "That... does sort of make sense, in a way. Unfortunately. Sometimes those who have no control, no power, cling to it a little *too* tightly once they /do/ get it- and are so worried about losing it again they begin denying any of that power to others."
The lights are flashing with absolute wonder in these little disposables' eyes. They're clearly fantasizing about everything the tentacled femme is telling them. Servents! Helpers! Not the lowest of the low!? 
From the allyway that the disposables had walked out of to take their break, a tall, wide bot stomps out. He looks pretty mad. "Where the slag did they GO!? When I get my hands -- " He then notices the little hub-bub at the steps. He walks over, fury fading just a bit to include confusion. "...What in..."
"Drink. Don't need drink. On the house." the large dino starts to respond, until Blurr decides to go all gangster on the house. Slag is actually.. surprised at the speed of the little blue guy. But, as he shoots at the mech that offered him a free drink, the large dinobot growls and grabs the chair nearest him. As he does so, he yells, "BAR FIGHT!" in his loudest voice possible before he turns and flings the bar stool towards Blurr. 
He may be aiming to hit the little speedster. He may not be. Whether or not it does, he doesn't care - he just wants to watch the world burn in his optics after all, and this is a /great/ way to do just that! 
-Combat- Slag hits Blurr with a melee attack!
With the finely honed reflexes of bartenders everywhere, this particular one ducks. And stays ducked, because he's not an idiot, and a giant bot stomping in and throwing a chair and shouting bar fight is going to /ruin/ his profit margins. Most of the rest of the bar's occupants make themselves scarce -- but as for the server? He's gone, vanished past distillers and leaving Blurr to deal with his latest fan.
"The rebellion -- you missed it, right? I guess you don't really know what helped them finally throw them off, then?" asks Hot Rod. It's an inevitable question. WHAT IS THE SECRET TO WINNING.
The shout across the street draws Hot Rod's eye, but only for a moment. It's the one stomping after the disposables who earns a longer look from him, and he glances to YX-939. "Friend of yours?"
"I was buried in an assault on the Sharkticon conclaves, I do not know the end result of the rebellion - I can safely assume that since the Masters no longer reside here, you were victorious." Exoletus stands and puts herself between the disposables and their apparent keeper.
She grins widely at him, showing a mouth full of shark-like teeth. It's not a happy fun 'come on over and visit' smile.
Blurr makes it through the door and immediately starts searching for the access point. There's a lot of clutter back here. Figures. But a flying barstool interrupts his efforts, sending him to the floor. Ugh. What does this guy have against him, anyway? He doesn't -know- him. The speedster scrambles to his feet and slams a fist down onto the door control, quickly forcing it shut before the Dynobot can plow through. It might not keep the giant brute out forever, but it would at least buy him the time he needs to get to his objective.
Now, according to the footage from YX-939, the terminal had to be in a storage closet in the far rear of the distillery. Wasting no time, he races toward the back and checks -every- closet until he finds what he's looking for. Open, shut. Open, shut. Open, shu--aha. Score.
Rewind continues recording and watching... though he does look over towards the bar as loud noises start coming from there. Now what?
"What?" YX-939 blinks at Hot Rod. Then, he turns to look. 
"Oh no!" One of the other cleaning bots yelps. Then, all four of them are shaking and very visibly frightened. 
The supervisor/keeper/whoever he is stops to a halt at the grin on Exoletus's face. He still looks angry, but now he just looks confused and startled. "What... What the scrap is going on here?!"
Slag considers pursuing. Really, he does. But instead, with Blurr locked neatly inside the room that he just smashed the panel closed to, and most of the patrons out of the way, Slag does what Slag does best. 
Taking out his cannon, he fires around the place indiscrimintantly, setting anything alight that can be burned, and then turns around and trundles his way out, like the oversized brute he is. 
This is indeed Dinobot country now. And Slag just trundles on his merry little way. 
"YOU!" Exo snaps commandingly at the YX keeper. "Are you responsible for these little ones?" she demands of him, getting right in his face about it.
There's a fair amount to burn. This is terrible. Worst day ever. The bartender pops his head up over the bar and shouts, "YOU AUTOBOTS!" while whatever the server was going to do back there with Blurr becomes a rather hasty flight, instead.
Ancient history, half of it mystery, is a bit above Hot Rod's paygrade. A big bully coming stomping out after a cluster of disposables who shake in fright, though? That's a little more his speed. He almost visibly relaxes, and then takes a few steps forward to put himself between YX-939, his friends, and their not-so-friend. "Hey, I don't know, why don't you tell /me/ what's going on here?" (Other than what sure /looks like/ a legendary bar fight across the street.)
"Uhm... Uhm..." The keeper stammers, but doesn't back down. "...Yeah, what of it!?" 
Now, the four disposables are cowering behind Hot Rod.
"I would gladly accept orders, Hot Rod," Exoletus asides to the smaller mech. "Perhaps you would like me to -eat- this incompetant? He obviously cannot properly care for his charges."
"Look at them!" Hot Rod says, waving a hand back behind his shoulder and then spreading both arms to give the disposables more room to cower. "You're doing a terrible job of it. Maybe she /should/ eat you." Rather hastily, he asides, "Don't, actually," to Exoletus. "What do you guys want?" he asks the four without looking back.
"OH!" Whirl jumps up onto his feet and sidles up behind Exoletus to be her evil little shoulder devil. "Yes! You should definitely eat him! Bite off his fingers at least."
And then suddenly the bar's on fire. Rewind looks at Exodus and the cleaning bots, then at Hot Rod. The archivist walks over and pokes at Hot Rod's leg. "Um... Hot Rod, the bar's on fire. Shouldn't we, like, call someone?"
"EAT him?!" One of the four yelps in alarm. 
"No no no no, that would be VERY BAD." 
"We'll all be on the streets!" 
Have you ever heard a group of disposables wail? Well, now you have. 
"Look, it's not like it's MY fault insections attacked my operation! Repairin' em ain't cheap!" The keeper takes a few steps back. "And what kind of glitch EATS PEOPLE?!"
It would appear that Blurr has lost the big clumsy brute. Apparently he doesn't do doors. Or the speedster isn't worth it. He smirks and pulls a dataslug from subspace, swiftly sticking it into a socket. The upload begins, but it's then that he realizes the bar is on -fire-, and it's quickly making its way back here. Hmm...eying the engex dispensers and distillation equipment, he decides to make the best out of this situation. Once the virus is well on its way into the network, why not make sure no one could ever trace it back to this particular node? Why not make sure it'd be that much harder to find the source code?
So he starts gathering up the purest grade engex containers and bundling them together with stray pieces of wiring. It's -really- a good thing he can move so fast. Once he's finished the setup, he punctures one of the containers, causing it to leak just a little.
Ahem, and now, the matter of getting -out- of here. Before the explosion, you know. He searches for a window to break...
"--what?" Hot Rod rather reluctantly pulls his gaze away to follow Rewind's gentle redirection. Yep. That's a bar. On fire. With flames and everything. He drags his hands down his face. Those flames are even bigger and bolder than /his/. Rude. "Yeah, call who, exactly? We /are/ the someone."
Hot Rod glances from Rewind to Whirl, who is all bad-ideaing at Exoletus. "Whirl! With me, let's go make sure there's not anyone trapped. Rewind, Exoletus, sort this out, would you?" He gestures between YX-939 and their handler. "Uhm -- Ex, maybe take your cues from Rewind." So no one gets eaten. Then he starts across the street. His first steps are reluctant -- he was so busy heroing! -- but soon he perks up, because he can totally hero over there, too.
"I used to feed criminals to savage, barely-sapient sea beasts," Exoletus explains to the Keeper. "And I was capable of dealing with said sea beasts when they got unruly. These teeth are not purely decorative." She whip-snaps a tentacle idly, irritable. "And why would you have trouble with insecticons? They are the most peaceful, docile creatures on the planet."
Whirl just wants to see someone get hurt, damnit! It's been all talking and no stabbing, it's making him antsy. His attention is pulled away from Exoletus (and those tentacles) when Hot Rod yells his name and asks him to run into a burning building with him. "WHAT? Now why in the hell would I want to do something like that?" He shakes his head. "No, no. Someone set that fire for a reason and who are we to try to interfere?"
The keeper stares at Exoletus as if she were completely insane. "...Docile?! You kiddin' me!? Some of those insecticons ATE my disposables! ATE 'EM!" 
"It's truuuee...!" One of the YX's wails.
Unfortunately, there aren't very many windows in the distillery, especially not in the storage vault. Perhaps Blurr should have thought about that before he built a makeshift bomb. Not that it would have mattered, really, the place was still going up in flames.
Okay, there's a small window in the hallway outside the vault, so he heads for it, however, a burning support falls from the ceiling and lands on top of him, trapping him underneath it and also knocking him unconscious. Looks like it's up to Hot Rod to do his heroing!
Exo scowls. "What have you done to make an Insecticon attack! GAAAAH!" She raises all of her tentacles in disgust, shooting a rapid gust of wind from the thrusters along her back. "This whole planet has turned into a [translation error]-hole! Insecticons are vicious, minicons are disposables, tanks and jets living together!!!"
Rewind suddenly finds he's been left in charge of Exoletus and the cleaning bots. "Uh..." He blinks and looks over at them, then raises his hands as Exo keeps talking about eating people. "No, no... really, we don't eat people anymore. Or feed them to anything. It's not... it's not polite." He looks over at the Keeper. "Oh. Uh. Yeah, the Insecticons can be kind of scary, honestly. But... I don;t know, they aren't ALL that bad...." His hand goes to his cheek as he remembers his encounter with Harbinger. "No... not entirely all bad. But edgy- defintiely edgy."
The four disposables are still wailing, cowering behind Exoletus. 
The keeper looks from the disposables to the tentacle'd femme, jaw hung a little in incredulity. "...'Kay. Uhm. These are my minis, and we gotta finish that job back there..." Suddenly, he blinks, and looks over to the bar. "...Huh. Maybe we aughta wait for that to not be on fire." Considering they were working in the alley just two doors down, probably a smart idea.
"We're the /only people who can help/," Hot Rod snaps at Whirl. Rather than waste time arguing, he keeps heading toward the fire: like to like.
The last of the bar's patrons trickle out to stand across the street. Hot Rod shoves through them, the only one foolish enough to head in. He sweeps the bar, finding one femme trying to steal a few bottles before they all go up in flames, and sends /her/ on her way. This is why Whirl should've gone. IT'S A FIRE SALE.
Hot Rod /nearly/ leaves, then, but one last impulse causes him to glance down the hall, where he sees someone pinned down and unconscious. It's not immediately clear who it is, but who cares. He's a hero. Hot Rod's gonna go pull this mystery victim out of the fire and to safety. It'll be awesome.
Exo grunts. "Come, we all need to move to a safe distance." She transforms.
Into a SQUID JET. Is there anything as awesome as a giant antigravity hoversquid with jet wings and engines? NOT LIKELY.
Blurr is still pinned there, stasis locked. As Hot Rod approaches, he'll clearly see who it is, even through all that smoke. He'll also see that there's a pile of leaking high grade in a storage vault nearby, just waiting to be exploded. NOW I WONDER WHO DID THAT.
The four little sewage bots were still wailing. 
"HEY. SHUT UP." Yells their keeper. 
It works; they all stop with a sudden halt to their squealing little voices. 
"Finally." The keeper grumbles. 
Then, Exoletus transforms. 
"...Oh, c'mon, I don't even know what you turn inta! What IS that?!"
Exoletus transforms and... well, yeah, gotta admit that IS pretty awesome. Rewind just stares- and happily gets this all on video. At least it seems like she isn't threatening to eat anyone now. Hopefully. "....Wow. That's amazing."
Since Whirl isn't heroic enough to run into a burning building like Hot Rod, he focuses on crowd control and making sure everyone gets their rubbernecking afts out of the way. "Hey HEY! THIS IS A STATE OF EMERGENCY! Everyone get the hell out of the way!" His voice goes unheard and everyone seems to ignore him
Until he pulls out a pistol and starts firing it randomly.
"I SAID GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! DISPERSE, JERK WADS!" Whirl bellows over the sounds of his weaponfire and the ensuing screaming from the crowd around him.
Exo still has those tentacles, which wriggle in a steady stream behind the engines of her jet-shaped mantle. She extends them out and gently attempts to wrap them around the waists of Rewind, the YXs and their Boss. "No more questions. We need to move. I will carry you to a safe distance should this feeding hovel detonate."
"You little slagger," Hot Rod mutters under his breath. He looks briefly furious as he studies Blurr. Yet even in his anger, he's reaching to pull him out of the way and over his shoulder. As fast as he was to get in, he's quicker yet to get out, with the image of the leaking high grade burned in his memory and a mental countdown hovering somewhere between 'too soon' and 'maybe if I'm fast enough'. He's going to be so impressed with Whirl's crowd control when he exits.
The four YX bots are quiet and subdued and allow themselves to be carried without struggle. 
The keeper, not so much. "H-hey!" He flails at the tentacle grab. "This is REALLY WEIRD, just so ya know!"
Blurr is really easy to carry, thankfully. That might make Hot Rod feel really strong. Psst Hot Rod it's because Blurr is really light because he's the fastest bot in the world you're not actually that strong.
Rewind gets grabbed by a tenctacle and... oh my~. This sounds like it has the makings of some very bad fanfiction. The little 'bot's optics widen as he's lifted up by Exoletus, then he holds on for dear life. "Woah.... Ok, this is.... interesting." Yeah, *that's* the word. "This is also the *second time in a cycle* someone's given me a ride..." Of course his camera is still recording everything. He looks at the tentacle. "Uh.... what ARE those for, exactly?" He's not nervous, really!!! REALLY.
"So is your entire society. I'm sure you'll adjust; I'm having to." Exoletus has little patience for Grumpy Keeper.
She lifts off.
Going straight upwards (not too fast, can't scare the adorable little YXs which she will totally steal at the first opportunity), Exo is moving the group at least three blocks away, which SHOULD be sufficient distance. "What are they for?" What a question to get about her tentacles. "For manipulation of objects of course!" Meanwhile the little radial suckers on the undersides of her tentacles have magnetically locked onto her cargo. They aren't slipping out any time soon.
The four YXes are quiet. Super quiet. They might be in some sort of shock. 
The keeper is honestly not much better; he doesn't seem to have a flight mode, judging by the large wheels on his shoulders. "AAH DON'T DROP ME AAAHH" He yells THAT the entire three blocks. 
When they DO land, the four little disposables cuddle together, the lot trembling just a little.
Emerging to find the street pretty much cleared, Hot Rod goes, "Wow." He is so impressed by Whirl. *SO IMPRESSED* He doesn't have time to linger and compliment, though, because there's a ticking bomb at his back. "Whirl, time to get going!" He follows his own advice, carrying Blurr clear in his STRONG, SO STRONG arms.
Whirl fires into the crowd until his entire clip is empty and only a quiet 'click click click' is heard from his pistol. Just in time too because Hot Rod comes running out with... WAITAMINUTE.
"Is that /Blurr!?/" Whirl runs after Hot Rod and away from the potentially explosive building. "Did you SAVE him? WHAT THE HELL HOT ROD? WHAT THE HELL!?"
Ok, /JUST CHECKING/ Exoletus. Rewind gets carried away by means most modern Cybertronians probably haven't even consider, much less experienced. "Yes. This is definitely interesting." He comments as they get whisked away and he watches the flames and flailing figures flicker and fade far away. "Yes, you're definitely interesting." He looks over at Exoletus. "And thank you, by the way."
Hot Rod makes it out of the bar -just- in time. The building explodes rather violently, fire and hot gases expanding rapidly away from it in all directions as smoke mushrooms into the sky. Burning debris also goes flying. It's a good thing the others handled the evacuation, especially the disposables because they're likely to have been the most vulnerable to the blast. Hot Rod and Whirl -might- get singed...but thankfully they shouldn't sustain any serious injuries unless they just stand there watching the inferno. But not even Hot Rod is that stupid...right?
And safely landing, Exoletus releases her captives I MEAN PASSENGERS, transforming back into root mode. "What a miserable world I've awakened to," she grunts. "I will have to do something about it."
Tempting as it may be ... no, no Hot Rod doesn't actually stick around. "Of course I saved him!" he says, as though it were obvious, self-evident, unavoidable. There's no other answer. "Complain later. For now? Let's go find the others."
"...That was weird." The keeper mumbles as his property trembles. "That was jus'... WEIRD." He looks at the four bots, then to Exoletus, then back to the disposables. "I don' even know how t'react, that was jus' WEIRD." A pause. "...I'm writin' this off as 'act of Primus'."