Psykeout Intrusion

MAY 29 2011
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Psykeout Swivel
Huddled in the low cover of the poorly constructed metal shanty is Swivel. Although there is a table and chair in the diminutive room, she is sitting on the floor, writing away on a data pad with a chewed up stylus. She's covered in a great deal of grime that desaturates her usual vibrant colors.
Psykeout pushes open the door and given his shorter stature, he doesn't have an issue getting through the opening. His vocoder resonates throughout the room, as he notices Swivel on the floor. He pulls the chair out from underneath the table and sits down, completely disregarding any sense of decency or manners, "Swivel. I assume you've heard what everybody has been saying. I also have to assume that you realize that there are going to be consequences for pushing me off the top of the building. Is that why you've been doing nothing but hiding in here?"
His armor is dented where he hit the ground, obviously not taking the time or the energy to fix it. There is a bit of grime from the 'accident,' but nowhere as thick and disgusting as Swivel.
Swivel glances up abruptly when she hears someone entering, and just stares as Psykeout enters. Despite all the grime, her optics are as clear and vibrant as ever, casting indigo halos about her face in the dim lighting. Her hand fidgets, and she quickly writes something and then flips off the data pad. 
Swivel slowly rises to her feet, fixing Psykeout with a look that seems unnaturally devoid of expression. She's silent for a moment longer before she crosses her arms over her chest. "I don't mind playing your games, Psykeout, but maybe this time you can set some ground rules? You know, change things up?"
Psykeout waves his hand, "My games? What games? I don't play games. I speak reality. Why have rules for something that I don't even do?"
He leans forward and laces his fingers together, "Why must you ignore my original questions? Why must you act like nothing happened?"
Swivel lifts her chin, momentarily glancing towards the slanted ceiling and then sits down on the makeshift bed across from Psykeout's perch. She places her hands on her lap and stares at him for a moment longer. "If I were doing nothing but hiding in here I'd have been found sooner. I've been away. Exploring tunnels. You know, having some fun. Call it a little vacation," Swivel responds, giving a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "And what about you? What happened after Wrench dragged you off?" Yes. Swivel is artful at pretending things didn't happen, or rather, seems to be good at pretending they aren't happening to her.
Psykeout snickers, "A vacation before you have to face the harsh reality that you have made for yourself? Interesting..." He drifts off and considers what to say next. "Well...Wrench dragged me back to Dead End, where I was reactivated by one of the medics that I trained cycles ago. After that, he explained what happened and I have come here to exact my revenge," He moves towards the door, standing directly in front of it and making sure that there is no real escape for Swivel and pulls out a pistol, aiming it towards her, "It will give me great pleasure to finally experience this moment. I shall enjoy it for as long as I function."
Swivel watches Psykeout as he speaks, one of her knees occasionally twitching as she tries not to shake. She maintains a carefully conservative expression and body language, which, really is a give-away since she is usually very expressive. 
"Revenge for what?" she asks innocently. "You are the one who jumped. If I were to try and hurt you, I wouldn't shove you off of a building, and I wouldn't jump down after you to see if you were okay. Nor would I try to protect you from being taken away, although, due to my own injuries, there was little I could do for you," Swivel says, staring past the pistol at Psykeout's optics.
Psykeout snickers, looking around the small building and not moving the pistol at all, "What the frag, Swivel? Are you posing for a camera or something? Trying to make sure that if anybody is listening, that you come off as innocent? You and I both know that you pushed me off of that roof. You and I also know that you feigned interest in my well-being, in order to save your own pathetic aft," He shakes his head, "It's not going to work, Swivel. For mega-cycles, I have dreamed of the day that I could fire on your pathetic frame. For mega-cycles, I have dreamed of the day when I get to dissect you into the smallest possible pieces. Oh, you will function for most of it and I will wait until the last possible moment to remove your pain receptors."
He doesn't move from his place in front of the door, "You will feel my wrath, Swivel. You WILL pay for what you have done. Primus commands it..." His finger twitches ever so slightly.
Swivel stops the slight shaking she was exhibiting before and remains sitting, her optics level with Psykeout. She idly allows a lopsided smirk to crawl up her cheek at Psykeout's remarks. "What... I haven't already felt your wrath time and time again? Heh, Psykeout... I think you just want to believe I betrayed you because then it would further prove how everyone is, deep down, as miserable and alone as you." Swivel slowly rises to her feet, her optics shifting to the twitchy trigger finger. She slowly raises her hands with her palms out. "You and I know what happened. It's pointless to insist it happened any other way... unless... hitting the ground futzed up your memory circuits... in which case I am vastly disappointed in how GULLIBLE you are to believe someone else's story. I mean, you, of all people? Falling for rumors?"
Psykeout snarls, a sound that almost sounds like a cyber-rat being sent through a grinder, as he pulls the trigger. As the shot is fired and hits, his voice fills the room, "HA! It starts, Swivel. It starts so quickly and ends so slowly," He takes a step closer, "This is only the beginning of what I am going to do to you. You shall feel the punishment...You claim that you didn't throw me off. Then how did I end up at the bottom? Wrench told me it was you. Not a rumor-monger. Not a random civilian who was paid to talk. Someone that I know and trust," He raises the pistol again, taking a step back towards the door, "Wrench doesn't lie, Swivel. You, on the other hand, have been known to tell a fib from time to time. Now, it is time for judgment."
BANG-PING! Swivel starts from the sound of the gun firing, but doesn't make any effort to move out of the way, taking a shot to the shoulder. She takes a bracing step back, her hand going to the site of the wound. She glances down at her hand before glancing back up at Psykeout. Her grimace relaxes into a smile, but there is almost something rueful in her expression. "Wrench isn't lying about what he saw. He's just mistaken. You jumped. I followed. We both sustained injuries." She glances at the pistol again, spreading her feet just a little and leaning forward slightly. "Why not give me a chance to regain your trust, Psykeout? Think back... is this behavior from me REALLY in character? You're the psychologist, tell me why I would do it."
Psykeout's optics flicker softly, the hoods of them closing and opening rapidly. He shakes his head, his hand wavering, "What...why are...who..." His words are cluttered and his voice strained, "Trust...earned, not gained...You changed...bitter..." Psykeout's hands continue to shake and he drops to his knees, the pistol falling to the ground and his head dropping into his open hands. He continues shaking and trying to put words together in a complete sentence, "What...you...pushed me...Wrench doesn't lie...why would he...different than truth..."
Swivel watches Psykeout very carefully as he falters. By the time the pistol drops the floor, Swivel cautiously advances two steps and then stops again. She lowers her voice, trying to make it sound more... soothing than... squeaky. "No one is lying, Psykeout. It's just all... a misunderstanding." She doesn't say anything more, not wishing to further overwhelm the situation. However, she does tentatively reach her foot close to the pistol to try and kick it out of Psykeout's reach.
Psykeout catches movement out of the corner of his eye, grabs the pistol and aims it towards Swivel, "YOU LIE!" He pulls the trigger...
Swivel takes a halting step back and gasps as she feels a biting sting in her upper thigh from the second shot. She freezes in her position. Too soon, Swivel, too soon. She remains standing there, hastily shifting her weight to her other leg. "Psykeout..." is all she says, maintaining a lower, calmer voice. "There are no lies. Not in this."
Psykeout snarls, raising the pistol again, "There are always lies, Swivel. It is my responsibility to get to the bottom of those lies. Why did you push me? Why did you try and kill me? What reason drove you to do such a thing? Why do you honestly believe that I would jump off the top of the roof? WHY?!" He jabs the pistol in her direction at the end of each sentence, in order to drive his point home. His finger twitches, "I will continue to fire at you until you tell me the reasons behind your attempted murder of me. The sooner you tell me, the sooner that you can go on with your life in peace...Continue to lie and your life becomes exponentially shorter.
Swivel raises her hands, palms outwards as Psykeout jabs the pistol at her, waving it threateningly, putting on an eerily pleasant smile. "Would it make you feel better if I invented a story as to why I tried to murder you? Because, if so, you'll have to give me some time to think up something riveting. I mean, it might as well be full of suspense and emotion, right?" She dips her chin. "Or maybe you'd rather comedy?"
Psykeout snarls and leaps across the room towards Swivel, his mouth open and seemingly aiming at Swivel's head. However, a minor miscalculation sends him directly into the bed and his head slams against the corner of said aft-rest. The top of his optic catches the corner piece, ripping out a grouping of wires and part of the harness in Psykeout's helmet. His hand lets out a crushing sound as it hits the wall, various pipes popping out of his forearm. The gun explodes on impact, shrapnel from said weapon jamming into the other side of Psykeout's face. A scream of pain and frustration fills the air as Psykeout injures himself, fluid pooling around his head. The scream dwindles off as the fluid continues to flow and Psykeout begins to go still, with only a few appendages twitching softly.
Swivel lets out another shrill gasp as the mech lunges for her, quickly going to move aside from him. Where he misjudged and slammed into the bed, she ends up tripping over her own chair and stumbling to the ground, landing hard on her left arm. There is a loud clatter and thud. 
By the time Swivel manages to pick herself up off the floor, she is surprised to find no one looking over her. Confusedly she glances around, until she sees Psykeout's twitching form on the ground. "PRIMUS!" she bellows and crawls over there to check on him. "Not again!" She doesn't touch him. Nope. She's not a medic. She doesn't know if she'll do more harm. So she just sits there, crouched, her hands hovering over him and glancing about him.
Psykeout's fingers twitch softly, his vocoder flips on and off, but otherwise doesn't move.
"Hang on there Psykeout... I'll try and get you some help!" Swivel says, not sure if he even can hear her, or even really cares. After all, he's got it in his head that she's apparently homicidal.
Psykeout stirs, his vocoder clicking on and off, "Swivel...you tried to kill me again..." He pushes himself off of the ground and looks around, slowly realizing that one of his optics is gone. He manages to stumble towards the door, but can't seem to grasp the door's handle, "Let...me...out...NOW!
Swivel quickly moves away when Psykeout stirs. "You lunged at me and clutzed out," Swivel protests, her tone more irritated than before. She stalks over to Psykeout, her footsteps very loud due to her agitation, and she makes a grab for his arm. "Oh no you don't! This time we're doing things MY way!"
Psykeout drops to his knees again, as Swivel wraps her hand around his arm, "Fine...do what you wish, Swivel. I...I give up."
Swivel stares down at Psykeout, no longer holding back her emotions, and shows complete agitation, exasperation, and something.... hard to make out. "Give up? Hardly. On your feet. I'm taking you to get fixed. I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do Psykeout, and I will do anything I must to convince you I don't want you to die." Her tone seems uneven as she tries to regain control of her emotions, messed up as they are. Thanks to SOMEONE.
Psykeout snarls, "You will NOT fix me. You don't have the strength. You don't know anybody that I actually trust enough to do any work on me. The survival of you depends on my getting fixed, so I know that you're not going to bring me to someone that can actually fix me correctly."
:He pulls against Swivel, managing to finally get out of her grasp. However, given the damage that he took only a few moments before, the tear in his shoulder becomes larger and eventually his arm is completely ripped off and hangs in Swivel's hand. Finally able to open the door, he pushes it open and hobbles towards the exit.
Swivel tried her hardest to keep her grip of Psykeout. However, perhaps she was trying a bit TOO hard, and in a moment she is thrown back a step or two from a release and left with an arm dangling in her arm. This is NOT making her look any better. "Right, and I'll bet you'll blame me for this too!" Swivel yells after him, waving the arm. Angrily she takes a step back, and then charges through the door to tackle Psykeout, wrapping her arms around his torso...
Psykeout feels Swivel wrap her arms around his waist and he tries to jump out of her grasp, but only manages to fall flat on his face. Somehow, he manages to turn over and bring his knee up. He aims it towards her head......
Not this time! When Swivel feels her arms around Psykeout, she tries to hold him immobile, but not before he manages to swivel around and try to kick her. She moves her head to the side, and now, well, it looks quite awkward. And through all this, Swivel has been keeping a hold of Psykeout's arm in one hand. With her head cleared of any (further?) damage, she squeezes Psykeout as tight as she can. "Listen here, I'm not going to have someone FIX you wrong. Get over yourself and your paranoia and let me help you!"
Psykeout stares down, taking note of Swivel's face in his crotch-plate, "Boy, oh, boy, Swivel...quite a predicament we have ourselves in here," He tries one last time to try and get out of her grasp, "My paranoia has helped me to survive this long. Why do you feel all high and mighty that you need to control me and what I do?" He snarls, wiggling around in Swivel's grasp.
Swivel makes a plaintive noise when Psykeout wiggles free. "Hey, at least I'm not exacting judgment on people for things they didn't do! You wanna shoot me, fine, well not fine, but, do it honestly! Don't hide behind false... false... injury! Don't make it sound like revenge or justice because it isn't! I'm not the liar, Psykeout, you are!" Swivel rants as she waves his arm in childlike franticness, finally reaching anger, ready to chase him down if needs be to keep yelling at him!
Psykeout waves his hand, turns over his shoulder and smiles, "I am no such thing. By the way, check that arm you're holding..." The end of Psykeout's arm twitches softly, wrapping it's fingertips around the mid-point of Swivel's chest plate.
Swivel curls in her lower lip. "Well maybe not a liar... but you--" she breaks off suddenly when he tells her to check the arm. She stares down and just... stares. "Wha..." she slowly pries the arm away from herself, holding it at arm's length.
Psykeout chuckles softly and takes a few steps towards Cubicron, "Goodbye, Swivel. The next time we meet, I shall not be so kind. The arm has a mind of its own, so be mindful. It could do things that you never dreamed of," His smile grows, his destroyed optic still sparking, "Just like I plan to. You and I are going to finally get our time together..."
Swivel stares at the arm for a little longer, then glances over at Psykeout. "Great. Yeah. Sorry you feel that way. You've been really kind... it's been fun... can't wait..." she says, each sentence a gradient from loud and clear to a mutter, clearly relying heavily on sarcasm as she squints at the arm, tentatively poking it with her other arm. She winces, her injuries screaming at her for attention, and she turns towards Cubicron.
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