Missing Person

OOC Note: Old log, but I went looking for it today and couldn't find it, so I don't think it was posted before!
Not far from the Acropolex sits the burnt-out shell of a bar. The damage to the building suggests that no one will be using it for a long, long time -- not when there are so many other abandoned spaces that might be suitable in the city. Hot Rod stands outside of the building talking to another mech. Holding a few scorched bottles under his arm, the other mech is shaking his head about something. Hot Rod's holding a half-melted bit of metal and circuitry. The booze looks better.
It had taken some time to track down Hot Rod, but not an unreasonable amount of time. Swivel had been skirting around the area until she cam across the charred ruins, and of course, Hot Rod and his current company. Last time they'd seen each other she had not been on her best behaviour, and got a bit bent out of shape (figuratively and literally!). But that doesn't matter now. Swivel strides right up to where Hot Rod is standing, glancing edgily at the other mech for any indications that she should turn around and walk away instead.
"--probably in Kaon," says the other mech, to Hot Rod's obvious dismay.
"Come on, Kaon? What've they--." Hot Rod breaks off when Swivel walks up to give her a quick smile.
That pause is enough for the other to firmly repeat, "Kaon. Sorry, Hot Rod." Then he (and his bottles) transform to drive off.
Now alone with Swivel before the wreckage of the building, Hot Rod sighs. "Hey, Swiv. What's up?" He glances to see if she's carrying anything -- ANOTHER LETTER FOR HIM? The last one was so great. -- and pockets the half-melted bit of ... whatever that he's holding. He's in better shape than the bar behind him, but his paint job is rough again where he's taken damage in a recent fight. What a hoodlum.
Naturally, the empty handed Swivel is curious as to what they are discussing. But, Swivel knows it is not her place to pry, and furthermore, it would detract from her mission. Sure it's a personal mission, but a mission nonetheless. "Oy, O'Rod," Swivel greets with a casual smile. No. She hadn't called him worse than Megatron last they spoke. Actually, she would take that back after seeing his frightening visage recently. "Been lookin' fer ya coz I gotter questions."
Gesturing over his shoulder with the dexter half of a smile, Hot Rod says, "Well, let's go have a seat, put our feet up." He walks into the ruin over the bar. He crunches across rubble to right an overturned table and pair of chairs. The chair that he takes wobbles a little, one leg partly-melted, but it is stable enough that when he does, in fact, literally put his feet up -- on the /table/, even, where was he /raised/, in a /barn/ -- it holds steady. "Okay, hit me."
After examining the state of the chairs Hot Rod pulled out, she puts a hand out and indicates she is going to remain standing. She is most definitely lighter than him, but she's had enough of ending up on her aft lately, thankyouverymuch. "Well.... ya remember YX-939, l'il disposable cleaner insistin yous a crim'nal all the time?"
"Starting to think I should just stop protesting that." Hot Rod draws a simple utility blade to carve a few doodles on the table next to his thigh as they talk. "Yeah, of course I remember the little guy. Why?"
Smiling, Swivel clasps her hands together behind her back and proceeds. "Wellum! See, somer 'is buds were given sum large sum 'o money. Bet if 'em higher ups found out, it'd be taken. But they's wund'rin if they pooled together, mebbe oner 'em could be bought outter th'contract, yanno? Not tryin' to buy a new life er nuttin'.... but mebbe if they was bought to clean fer summun 'oo could give 'em th'spect they deserve? I mean, sorter give 'em freedom 'coz n'one needs t'know oo'ever bought 'em let 'em run their own lives, right? BUt I dunno if tha's 'ow it works.... an' I know ya'd jump at the chance t'elp summun at the bottom o' th'system become more, uh, equal, yanno? Live life like 'enyone should 'ave the right to, yeah?"
Hot Rod grins. "Large sum of money, huh? That's -- what, second, third time? I need to get me some of that luck. Y's just got shanix /pouring/ in on him and I'm always pouring it out. Mostly to medics," he admits. He flicks metal shavings away from the minor acts of vandalism he's marked on the table. "Just bought of out his contract? Employed somewhere else? Yeah, probably. I mean, that's mostly up to his, uh, employer, I guess. If he's willing to let him go." He waves the blade of the knife at Swivel and says, "Although letting them run their own lives sounds dangerously criminal." And his tone is /warmly/ approving.
"Well, yeah, I'm wun'ring if ya got any 'igher situated s'pporters of yer, uh, ideals tha'd be willin' an trusted 'nuff t take th'money, buy one o' 'em an' own 'em in name, bu' pre'much let 'im live 'is own life. Not jus' that, but 'opin' you 'an yer network could... uh... yanno, 'elp 'im adjust. Not bein' in control o' yer life, it's not easy t'start makin' a bunch o' decisions fer y'self suddenly, so, e'd need summun ta kinner... 'elp him transition, yeah? I mean, I dun mind 'elpin' there, but it would take several peeps, I think, to make 'im feel accepted as n'jus a drone..."
"We can help," Hot Rod agrees, but as quick as he is to say that, he's slower to think about the rest. "I -- maybe. I think Nautica's technically high caste. Ratchet. Pax, of course. I wonder if -- but then, Decepticon, whole bunch of trouble there." Some people think things through and then talk. Hot Rod talks things through. There might be some thinking in there, somewhere. "Then there's Feint, but that risks IAA oversight. I guess it depends on what he'd want, Swivel."
Rubbing her chin thoughtfully, and she doesn't mind things being talked through. It helps her to see other people's thought processes. "Mmmmmm...... I guess I'd gotter ask more... or 'range t'meet with you 'an 'em. but, I know 'e kin be a bit skittish 'round ya an' worried ya'd be all 'fronted cos o' th'ole crim'nal labeling and th'loik." Swivel paces a little bit in thought. "Guess this is most t'figger out if this is iffin possible. Yanno. Sendin' out feelers 'n such."
"Possible? Sure. Legal?" Hot Rod makes another gesture, wobbling the blade back and forth in a silent 'not so much'. He drops his hand to carve another line into the table. "Worth doing? Definitely. Not such a bad thing being called a criminal, I guess, when the laws are so bad. But it's the way he said it -- and why. That's what bothered me. I'm not -- fronted, or ... whatever that means. But slapping the label 'criminal' on someone is what the Senate does to stop people from doing what's right."
"Eeeeeeeeeh i's 'fective," Swivel says. "I dun wanner be labeled crim'nal. Whether's right or wrong, I jus' dun wanner make waves.... but I wanner 'elp me'friends. An' thye are that - friends. N'some project'r pet'r sent'ment. Twobit an' Spritz, as I call 'em, are me'friends. Iffin Twobit dun 'stand me moster the time an kin be a bit surly..." Swivel idly looks at where Hot Rod had been carving. She'd probably point out that he isn't helping his image as anything but a hoodlum if the place wasn't already ruined. "Bu' I also know they dun wanner do 'enthin' tha'd get 'em 'unted down an' rounded up 'n make life worse for th'others. Say if oner 'em went AWOL, the rest'd suffer, I think, but bein' put on tighter leashes or given less rations. But if one were bought 'en any changes t'ow they was treated 'appened 'way from 'oever gives 'em their orders 'en rations 'n the loik, 'en it might not 'fect th'others badly 'en summun found out they was bein' left t'their own d'vices, yanno?" Swivel isn't sure she is making sense, not because of her choppy speech, but just by the very notion she is trying to get across.
Hoodlum through and through, Hot Rod keeps doodling. Criminally!! He gives Swivel a brief, blank look. "What? Uh -- sounds like what you really just want is for them to have a better contract, right? Better care? Keep doing what they were doing, same function, just -- safer?"
After a moment of thought, Swivel finally nods. "Yeah, mebbe tha's what I want. Safer, but more... uh... leeway. More.... individuality..." Swivel says gesturing with her hands as she tries to grasp for really what she is searching for. "Mebbe one day freedom, but mebbe thin's otter be done slowly 'n carefully, build 'pon stuff.... an' legal f'now. I dun wanner.... like I said, I wanner REALLY 'elp 'em, no'jus do wot I think is right an' blindly end up makin' their lives worse." Is that a passive aggresive criticism? Probably not. Swivel is just learning that she has tried to help and made matters worse for other people.
"Try Ratchet. Pax. Wheeljack, even. Actually, I'd trust Arcee, too -- or Jazz. And they are both security, so anything that they do would /definitely/ be legal," Hot Rod says as he finishes carving a crude (and rude) little sketch of Sentinel. He looks down at it and then smirks, pleased with himself. "You're not really working outside the law. You're just helping them find ... employment. Within their function. Totally legit. Even grumpy can't frown about that."
There is a slow nod. "For now, I think. I bet they wanner jus buy freedom, an' tha's wot I'd like for 'em 'ventually. But As I b'gan talkin' wi'ya, I b'gan thinkin'.... mebbe caution best. Better life by, uh.... bits an' pieces. Mebbe I'll talk t'Jackie. E's real nice. Kinner quirky, but I think 'is 'thusiasm would be great!" Swivel rubs the side of her cheek for a moment, then tilts her head. "I dunno Jazz... met Arcee once.... she seemed real sweet." 
Swivel looks as though she were ready to leave, but then she glances down at the doodle. "B'the way, if ya 'ear 'enthin' 'bout a bitty bot named Turntable, lemme know. 'E was 'auled off by Blurr some time ago jus 'fer bein in possession o' stealed goods, but I saw 'im jus stumble cross it.... an said 'e was jus' in fer questionin'.... but I 'ent seen 'im since and 'ginnin' t'worry."
Hot Rod leans forward. He rests his arms on the edge of the table and looks over and up at Swivel. "Just don't be so scared to grab a little bit of freedom that someone's grabbing even more of it away from you. Doesn't take much for caution to turn into cowardice. Maybe they aren't ready to throw it all away, but they shouldn't be willing to /give/ it all away, either. Not just because that's what people with more shanix and more power are telling them to do."
There, good. He was sounding too reasonable. Now Hot Rod sounds a little more hot-headed and some measure of order is restored, right? Sitting back, Hot Rod says, "Who's Turntable, anyway? I'll keep an eye out -- and an ear out -- if you want."
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh........ I 'ent 'fraid o' bein' called a coward. Rather that 'en die," Swivel admits freely. She has no shame in her fense sitting, weathervane ways in regards to the big debate of the state of Cybertron's social order. "As for 'em I'm impressed they've e'en 'sidered tryin' te get oner their own a better life. It's all they known, 'en 'ey was all.... complacent, I guess. Jus' as I been complacent.... but.... I think there's only so much one kin take o' being mistreated." Swivel thinks back to some of the mistreatment she has received, which she feels is nothing compared to that of those lower than even herself. "Just askin' me fer 'elp is a big step for 'em, ya gotter admit. An' as fer Turntable, 'es jus' a scavenger I met, but 'e seemed 'armless 'an not really d'servin' the treatment 'e got from Blurr.... but I SAW wot 'appened an' 'ported as much... so I figger by now 'e ooughta been let go.... but I 'ent seen 'im 'enwhere near where I found 'im."
Hot Rod heaves a sigh -- deep, profound, /teenaged/ -- and says, "Fine, fine, it's a big step for them, whatever." He crosses his arms. "When has anyone ever deserved--." But before he get wound up and started again, he breaks off to say, "Let me ask Arcee, actually. Like I said, she's security. She might be able to find out what happened to the guy." No sooner has he offered than he's reaching out to send Arcee a quick call: << Hey! Arcee! Got a question for you. >>
Arcee is not in the *immediate* area, but she happens to be out patrolling, so she takes the call. "<< Hi Rod, everything been alright? What do you need?? >>"
As much as Swivel would like to be focused, she suddenly becomes very distracted and fidgety. "Fertheluva...." She mutters a few inaudible things and begins to pace. However she does glance up with a bit of a hopeful expression when he mentions contacting someone about Turntable. It's one of those things that had been nagging her for a while.
<< Friend of mine is worried about this scavenger she met that got arrested. Can you look up what happened to him? Mech's name was Turntable, >> Hot Rod asks. He ticks a finger back and forth in a waiting gesture as he sends the request along. << Arrested in Nyon, of course. Just asking for public record, >> he adds hastily. "She might not know. Or might have to look it up."
"<< Sure! >>" Arcee answers helpfully. "<< I'll get you whatever I have access to, here...just a moment...Turntable, you say? >>"
"<< Hm. >>" Arcee hesitates for a long moment as she looks things up. "<< Brought in on possession. But he's no longer in custody. Not released, though. 'Custody Transfer'. >>"
There is a definite amount of fidgetting going on with Swivel, and obvious agitation, with the occasional grimace. She keeps telling herself to just turn off the global band, but she can't seem to bring herself to it due to her woefully curious nature. Instead she just paces while keeping an optic on Hot Rod, awaiting some information.
"He was brought in, but he's not in custody," Hot Rod faithfully reports as soon as he gets an answer. He looks confused, however, by something that he does not immediately pass on but as a, "Transfer?" which isn't very helpful. << Custody transfer? To who? Why? >>
With a few nods, Swivel indicates that she is listening, although she seems otherwise distracted, occasionally muttering something. It takes her a moment to realise ths significance of what she heard. "Not in custody? So 'e was let go?" She inquires.
"<< There's a lot of police-code stuff here I'm not completely familiar with, >>" Arcee admits, as officers seem to have their *own* lingo and reference different facilities in ways she hasn't yet figured out. "<< Looks like the transfer went to Ibex, but I'm not familiar with any official detention facilities there... >>" (None that are *legal*, at least,) she thinks. "<< Hey, quick question, was this guy affiliated with racing at all? >>"
Swivel puts up one finger as if to say "one moment" and takes a few paces off in another direction, and begins to speak into her wrist.
"No," Hot Rod answers Swivel, sounding a bit distracted. Then he starts swearing, creative beyond probability in his invention. << I really doubt it. But you know what the IAA is like behind closed doors. He might've just been /convenient/ for whatever the-- >> More swearing follows. He needs better role models. He cuts himself off. << Do you have any more specific address? >> he asks for totally innocent and legal reasons. He throws himself back in his chair and drops his feet to the ground. He looks over at Swivel, but doesn't interrupt her.
Whatever conversation Swivel was suddenly entrenched in, Hot Rod's colourful language certainly alerts her. She lowers her wrist and looks at him for a moment or two. She then remarks, "Th'dun sound good..." apprehensively. She is getting this sinking feeling that she was lied to by Blurr. But then again, that was his prerogative.
There's a significant pause following Hot Rod's question, then she radios back. "<< Yes and no, >>" Arcee says secretively. "<< If this mech is being held in the IAA offices, then he's in a lot of trouble. If you decide to go there, it's going to be perilous, because...the place he's likely being detained is not an 'official' floor on the IAA tower; it's a secret floor, accessible only by private elevator or perhaps through accessing that same gravlift shaft somehow and climbing it. >>"
"IAA." Given the name clipped by anger, Hot Rod shifts in his chair as though he wants to leap to his feet. << Of course it's not an official floor. Why should it be an official floor. No, of course not, it's all hidden secret labs and evil awful things and -- UGH. Okay. Thanks, 'Cee. Owe you one. >> Disgust etched in his expression, he glances over at Swivel. "Probably being experimented on by some mech who cackles and rubs their hands together when no one's looking."
It takes Swivel a moment to connect IAA with the place in Ibex, but then she slowly nods her head. How odd. The femme doesn't know what the IAA really is, so him being taken there just catches her off guard. But as Hot Rod explains AND expresses the sort of danger the mech was in, the femme looks appropriately mortified. "But 'e din do 'enthin'! The law's s'posed t'protect.... 'e.... tha's not.... it's not...."
"<< You're welcome. If you're crazy enough to go into that place, I'll try to give you a guide, but they have the place under some major security, >>" Arcee lets Hot Rod now.
<< Good. Wouldn't be any fun if it was easy, >> Hot Rod banters. Glancing back at Swivel, he watches her fumble with something not far from satisfaction. He can't help it. He laughs. It's a muffled little snort, first, which breaks into a sharp chuckle and then he throws his arms wide in an exasperated gesture as he launches from his chair. "Swivel, come on! Open your eyes. The only people the law protects are those with the shanix and the power to make sure it happens."
"'En I better start makin' more shanix!" Swivel retorts. She really resists the idea of becoming a dissident or revolutionary. She's seen how they are treated and wants nothing of it. But on the other hand, if even being innocent but under slight suspicion can get one in a bad situation with no one to protect her BUT revolutionaries and dissidents, then what good is obeying the law now? She looks very uncomfortable and then peers at Hot Rod, asking a question that seems to come from nowhere. "D'ya.... d'ya know much 'bout 'em Relinquishment Clinics?' Swivel says the term very carefully.
Arcee is out to the southeast, closer to Nyon than she is to the Narrows. Currently, she's in vehicular mode, out patrolling for...trouble, most likely. She wonders to herself if Hot Rod really is going to try and break into the secret dungeon at the IAA.
Does Hot Rod look like the kind of mech who'd just go recklessly charge a /secret dungeon/? << Hey, what kind of guide? >> he asks Arcee after a moment. --uh, never mind. Moving on.
Humor -- brittle, sharp humor, but /humor/ -- wiped from his expression by Swivel's question, Hot Rod pivots to face her. He sits on the edge of the table. "Why?"
There is a bit of stammering from Swivel when the humour drains from his countenance. "I..... was.... at th'one in Praxus recently..." Swivel begins to say. However, she doesn't say much more, not without some encouragement.
Three jets, two Triorian Guard Enforcers and a...something, fly over the skies of Nyon, "Watch this!" the jet in the middle, flanked by the two guards, suddenly dives down along the highway and buzzes whatever vehicles are there. Laughter erupts from Quickswitch as he does so, completely oblivious to just who Arcee is, or her alternate mode, "HahahahahaHAHAHA!"
When Arcee sees the new arrivals, she feels really, really insenced about what they're doing, but she doesn't really have the authority to make them stop. Also, she's outnumbered. She does radio them, however. "<< What do you think you're doing?? >>" she asks.
<<Hahaha. Just having a bit of fun! I never knew it was possible!>> Quickswitch radios back, <<Oh, who are you, if I may ask?>>
"Please don't tell me there were secret horrors in the basement," Hot Rod says, rolling his eyes and then returning his gaze to Swivel. He holds exasperation at the edge of his tone -- not really aimed at her, true, but how could she tell? "Because let me tell you, the /last/ time I saw a relinquishment clinic--! Horrors everywhere." The sound of jets in the sky above Nyon is just rare enough to draw his eye past the broken window without sending him outside.
"<< My name's Arcee, and...I don't really understand your idea of 'fun', especially when it comes at the expense of others, >>" she admits. Wait, she knows that voice. Maybe she doesn't recognize the guards who followed him in, but she sure knows that one mech. "<< I know you. You were in Kolkular. With the prisoner. >>"
The sound of jets also gets Swivel's attention, and she had her mouth open to say something, but it sort of hung there as her train of thought had become interrupted. There is a moment or two of her standing there with her mouth hanging open like some sort of piscean creature, but then she shuts it, taking a moment to remember what she was going to say. "Oh, uh, n'quite. I was 'ere 'en Megatron stormed th'place..."
That gets Hot Rod's attention: his gaze sharpens, studying Swivel, despite whatever it is that is going on outside. "So what actually happened?" he asks.
<< i didn't realize-->> then, a starkness to his tone, <<How do you know that? Who are you? Yes, of course, you're Arcee, but that doesn't explain how you know that!>> The jet climbs again and the other two follow, << Explain. please.>>
<< Wait, I remember you... You were there also, talking to him,>> Quickswitch radios Arcee after a moment.
"I dunno everythin'.... but I kin tell ya what I did see. See, I was, uh..." She takes a moment thinking of where to start. Then she smiles and nods. "I 'ad a 'livery. The place 'ad a BIIIIIIIIIIIG line up... which kinner made me sad. But I din' go in tha' way, I went to a side entrance." Swivel idly scratches the side of her snubby nose. "I was taken to, uh, Pharma 'coz 'e 'ad t'sign fer the d'liv'ry 'imself. Nunner the other staff was auth'rized," Swivel explains. Pharma. Now there is a name to get Hot Rod boiling over. "'E told m'ta sit down an' rest while 'e got me a bonus fer bein' really fast. An 'en suddenly th'was a lotter noises out where the peeps were lined up, the, uh, wotter callit... reception? Summun changed their mind 'n I think mebbe they did somethin' t'scare peeps, so security got 'volved... 'en it jus got all chaotic... 'en power went out an alarms were all blarin'...."
"<< I was. I wanted to see if he had anything left to confess before judgement was carried out, >>" Arcee admits. "<< I just didn't feel the need to use torture or coercion to do it. You see...this is why we have an image problem on Cybertron. Torture, and secret prisons...it's kind of sickening, yeah? Well, that's the impression it leaves on me, anyway. Oh, and if you ask your new best friend, Rung? *I'm* the monster, just for wanting a better future for Cybertron. But if you want the real truth without all of the drama, just ask me. Not him. >>" She accelerates back toward Nyon. "<< But getting back to the point. Do you see what I'm trying to say? Torture doesn't work. It does. Not. Work. >>"
"/Pharma/," Hot Rod repeats in a low and emphatic growl. He fairly bristles, hackles raised. "No wonder they Decepticons hit the place if /he/ was there. What were you taking to him? Do you know?" he asks without any particular hope that she'll have an answer. Or be willing to give it. "It's okay if you can't say. Were you able to tell what they were after? Or how much damage they actually did?"
Hrrrrrrnnnnn.... Quickswitch groans, anger rises quickly as fast as he climbs, <<You SAW that?! THAT was a closed interrogation--and Rung, leave Rung out of this. Listen, I don't KNOW you, but--but--ARRRGH-->> Quickswitch just totally decompensates with sudden wrath, <<...It is what it is...I cannot change the system we work for.>>
Swivel can see the response that the name gets. This does not wholly surprise her, as she'd seen a similar bristling from him before at the mention of the name. But more in the context of Shiftlock. "I dunno wot it was, but it was express an' marked fragile s'well as volitile, so special special care t'be taken'. 'Enway, I saw somethin' small movin' bout durin' the chaos 'en I followed it to a lab wi'some computers 'n'such. There was this cat, see... an' I was trying t'get it out 'fore it got caught in th'middle oh thin's. 'En Pharma came an' gave me my bonus. I was scared 'e was gunna get mad at me fer wanderin'.... 'en... I 'unno, Megatron kicks down the door an' 'im an' Pharma were 'avin' words. Pharma shot 'im first with sumthin' that... uh.... jus' sorter... glowed.... it din' leave any marks're anythin'. I mean, Megatron looked like 'e mighta bin in pain, but I kinna tell f'it was pain 're anger 're both. I don't really know what they was talkin' 'bout, but Megatron pre'much accused Pharma o' ther sorter thin's ya was mentionin'.... yanno, them doin' thin's other'n wot the clinic is fer.... An' I was scared we was, the cat and I, gonna get 'it in crossfire, but Pharma escaped right quick an Megatron jus' went all destroyin' 'enthin' in sight. Scary mech, tha'one! Oh, but 'e din try ta 'urt me, told me an th'cat t'get to safety, which we did. Smart kitty knows its way around."
"<< Well, whatever. I mean, you did nothing...illegal. So nothing should be on your conscience. Right? >>" Arcee radios. "<< Think about it. Do you know what's right...in your spark? When it all comes down in the end, you need to be right with yourself. And you won't be able to find that in any rulebook. You'll just know what it is. >>" She continues heading off in the direction of Nyon... 
"I guess that's about all I can expect you to've seen," Hot Rod admits despite the disappointment that flickers across his features. "It's just so frustrating sometimes that all we get is the Senate's version. I guess I could ask the Cons what /their/ version is -- and I bet it'd be closer to the truth, but. Might not be the whole picture."
After a moment of thought, she then adds, "Pharma said sum'tin 'bout wipin' th'computers.... so obviously, there's sumtin' t'ide," she remarks. Hey, she's starting to catch on to that good old suspicious thinking and putting two and two together.
"I /bet/ he did." Hot Rod makes a frustrated noise, aggravation snarling through his chest and simmering low as he sheds it into a long-vented sigh. "Okay. I think I'll go run this by some of the others, see if they have any bright ideas, because right now all I'm doing is imagining how nice Pharma's face'd look with the imprint of my fist in it. Let me know how things go with Y and his friends, okay? If I hear anything about Turntable I'll let you know."
All Swivel can do is nod and smile, for she still doesn't know the depths to which Pharma has sunk and why exactly he earns the ire of so many. HOwever, she is starting to get a glimpse of it... but... he did give her a rather nice bonus. "I'll let ya know!" Swivel says cheerfully, unabashed by how that cheer would seem in contrast to his aggravation.
Hot Rod tosses off a wave with casual ease before heading out the door. His aggravation shades into determination, even if he hasn't quite decided what to do with it.