Prisoner Transfer

++ Nyon ++

  Nyon was the capital of Cybertron during the Golden Age, the rule of Nova Prime, when energon was plentiful and the planet's population was at peace. Now, with nearby Iacon the capital of the planet, Nyon has become a ghetto,and a shell of its former self.

  Temples, libraries, energon refineries and places of culture have been all but abandoned, left to corrode and rot away as their patrons moved to the newer, better capital city to the east. Left behind were the low caste and disposable laborers, who commute to Iacon to maintain and keep it, while being denied the privilege of its living quarters. Poverty and crime are rife here, with only minimal police presence to keep it at bay, making it a fertile breeding ground for rebellion and dissent.

It is sad to see what has become of Nyon. Especially for one who used to visit it quite often as a place to relax, absorb culture, and be around those of his caste. Now, Sky Lynx patrols a living tomb - a land that knows it is dead but has yet to recognize that the last rites have been given yet. As his shadow is cast upon the ground below, the massive Autobot cannot help but to feel a tinge of regret for what has been allowed to so heinously past into the very winds that blow through this once great polity.

Alas, however, waxing poetic over these ruins will have to wait for another time - for now, Sky Lynx has patrols and missions to complete. Stay busy, always busy. For boredom is the spark-killer.

Hot Rod whistles and leans back as he considers the scale of the bot that shadow belongs to. The shadow was big enough. Put to a bot -- an /Autobot/ -- and it's enough that he looks a little hesitant. But only for a moment. He then steps forward, moving from the shadowed interior of an old theater to stand where he's so, so easy to spot, all brilliant colors against the rust and wear of Nyon.

Hot Rod's an insurgent who has overthrown the city's order and cast down its law. By this measure, he's a dirty rotten rebel. But the tentative balance between citizenry, what passes for local government, and the planetary government has, for the moment, left him labeled mostly not a criminal. Mostly. Don't ask Prowl for his opinion. With the citizenry choosing to place their faith in the greater authority of the Autobots, what's Hot Rod to do but turn over Breach and the S.C.U.?

(Well, he could ignore what people wanted, of course, and decide that it's his way or nothing.) But he hasn't. So here he is, waiting for the Autobot transport that's promised to come take Nyon's corrupt cops -- ex-cops -- off for trial. "Hey, big guy!" Hot Rod calls with a wave of his hand. There is just barely room for Sky Lynx to land in the theater's courtyard, where the ruin of a once-grand mosaicked fountain is now just a bump and broken tile beneath his feet.

Making one more circle of the skyline of Nyon, Sky Lynx was preparing to initiate the next part of his patrol parameters when a shout up to him from far below is picked up on his enhanced listening systems. Swiveling around his head, the massive Roc twists and sets his golden visor upon the one calling out to him.

It seems that at first, Sky Lynx is just going to rocket away and let someone else handle this, but at the last moment, he dives towards the theater's courtyard. At one time, he would never have been able to land here due to the massive feature that once dominated the area. Now? As Sky Lynx rockets down, his wings flair out to catch the updraft his engines create from resistance and he turns up right just in time to land on all fours with a flourish in the middle of the courtyard. The ground shakes with the impact, sending up dust and tiles as Sky Lynx looks towards the resistance leader.

It only takes a second to pull up his file from the Autobot registry and run his identification. And while there is a capture on sight order for him, the Roc is more curious than anything at this point. "Ah. I expected you to be.. taller." Sky Lynx comments as he takes a cautious step forward, making sure of his footing in the ramshackle courtyard. "I am Lieutenant Commander Sky Lynx of Autobot Command, and you must be Hot Rod, as the only other mech that would match your rather flamboyant description would be Doctor Flame, who is currently Missing In Action and I doubt that with that spoiler you would protoform into a tracked vehicle." the Roc observes.

"I heard recently about you and your merry band's work to overthrow the corruption of the local polity's government. Jolly good, that. However, may I recommend that in the future that perhaps you leave such things to those that are properly trained to handle such matters?" he asks as he lowers his head down to focus his visor further on Hot Rod. "So, with the pleasantries aside for my part, how may I help you this fine cycle?"

...but not for long. "What does taller even mean to you, because you're like--" Hot Rod breaks off to gesture. BIG FISH. "So aren't we all kind of, I don't know, shorter?" He does not seem particularly offended by the comment, but he does straighten slightly and square his shoulders, spoiler all pointy and perky like he can make himself look bigger. Ish. Okay, he's still just kind of average.

"Two things, L.T.," says Hot Rod, thus proving his ignorance of military rank and courtesies by calling Sky Lynx Lieutenant rather than Commander. "One, it's funny that you think anyone properly trained even /cares/. And two, I'm not going to leave people to suffer when I can help. Not then, not now, not ever. But by the slimmest of margins people seem to think that we've got an actual chance at justice if we ask you guys to arrest the now ex-ed cops -- and it was law enforcement, not government. I mean, as much different as that makes, thanks to this whole fascist police state we've got going on. So you want some cops? Slightly used!"

Everything is smaller in Sky Lynx's optics, that much is true. Just Hot Rod isn't you know.. leader class sized. Poor kid. There arises a chuckle from the large mech as he considers the mech's first point. "I suppose it is all just a matter of perspective when it comes down to it. I however, still have to look up to the Cityformers, so there are even those that would call me small." he comments as he listens to Hot Rod continue.

"No no, Lieutenant would be Arcee or somesuch." the Roc admits. "Commander or just Sky Lynx will do." he corrects the flaming rebel as he looks down at the mech as he continues on the points that he has to make. "There seems to be much about the current system that you are irritated about." the Roc offers as he considers. Fortunately, Sky Lynx can't really frown, even with that large mouth of his, it just doesn't look right. "If I did not believe in justice and the pursuit of the truth behind that justice, you would have been the first one I would have rounded up, Hot Rod." With that point made, Sky Lynx bobs his head. "Ah. So they are nearby and available to be taken back to Iacon to properly interrogated, booked, and placed in a cell?" he asks as he continues to swing his tail back and forth, his wings flexing. A bundle of nervous energy, indeed. "I will be glad to take them into custody, so that is one less thing you will have to concern yourself with."

"Wow, really? I am /never/ calling Arcee Lieutenant." Hot Rod pauses a moment to imagine it, then shakes his head with a shudder that quivers to the tip of his spoiler. "Sky Lynx, then." He's friendly and agreeable, even if he is facing off against one of his MORTAL ENEMIES, an AGENT OF THE STATE. Is this the face capture-on-sight terrorist? IS IT?

Smirking up at him (okay, maybe smirking is annoying enough for a capture order), Hot Rod says, "Yeah, well -- come on, even you have to admit the system could use /some work/. You say you believe in justice, but how much justice do you see around you? How much truth do you really hear out of the Senate? These guys have connections. I think people are going to be disappointed."

Hot Rod is overly casual as he kills the urge to look back over his shoulder. He catches the twist of his head before he can look back, but his gaze still skips to the side toward the door. "Yeah, they are around," he says all easy and low-key. No prize for guessing that they are in the theater. "You willing to bet these guys make it to trial?"

Not only is he an AGENT OF THE STATE, THE MAN, but he's also an ELITE CASTE, so put that in your fuel and process it. "I believe that you wish so hard to believe that there is so much negativity out there that it cannot possibly be that someone may take the proper actions in a case like this. It sounds as though you are seeking shadows where there are none. I have served in the Autobots.. since creation, if I were to be honest. I have had travels with the Primal Vanguard and on my own to worlds that many here do not even realize exist. I believe in the system because I have seen the system at work. This mechs and femmes abused their position of power and took advantage of the system that was provided to them. They will face trial for their actions, and they will be punished in line with those actions. But these few that have caused commotion within the system does not mean that the whole system is pointless and should be taken down. It is my belief that if more Autobots were to follow the example that I try so hard to place before them, then they themselves would know that the system that is currently in place is a good and just system, one that allows and provides for all, should the need arise."

"Just as I recently provided in Perihex when the insurgent Combaticons attacked it and caused massive damage and harm to the local populace. With the assistance of the Arachnids at Yuss, we were able to provide aid that would have not otherwise been available. It gave every level - every caste - a chance to show their worth and shine. I know that it seems that with what the Senate has done there has been much that has to be.. closed down.." Sky Lynx states as he gestures majestically with his wings around him. "But I hold firm to the belief that perhaps the Senate's reasoning is sound and in the end it will play out properly so that all are provided for." Another couple of steps and nervous energy abounds within the massive creature as he tilts his head towards Hot Rod's query and comment. "I will make sure myself that they face trial for their charges, if you have the proof of them on a data slug that I can provide to our chief adjudicator, Ultra Magnus." Sky Lynx offers. "But if you are going to cause me to seek them out myself, I assure you, my superior scanners and systems will find them post haste."

-- Radio: A-Mission -- Sky Lynx says, "Hot Rod has offered to turn over the mechs and femmes of the corrupted Nyon PD. I am meeting him at the old theater to collect them. Such memories this place evokes. I remember many times being here to watch a show.. alas, it was one of the first places to be shuttered when supplies dwindled. Needed, yes, but still missed."
-- Radio: A-Mission -- Feint says, "Primus speed, Sky Lynx."
-- Radio: A-Mission -- Prowl says, "Sky Lynx, please limit your communications on this channel to that which is necessary."
-- Radio: A-Mission -- Sky Lynx says, "Every word that I stated was necessary, Prowl."
-- Radio: A-Mission -- Prowl says, "..."
-- Radio: A-Mission -- Prowl says, "Of course it was."
-- Radio: A-Mission -- Sky Lynx says, "I am pleased that we agreed."

There are just so many /words/. Hot Rod looks stunned, halfway to stasis lock. He wavers on his feet. So many words. "Is this some kind of cruel new weapon," he mutters to himself as the words flow on and on, passing around him with scarcely a ripple to show he's heard. "Maybe some kind of sensory torture." He clings to his own words as an anchor in the storm.

Then Sky Lynx stops speaking, and Hot Rod blinks -- once, twice. Now what did he actually /say/ again? "So ... yes?" he eventually parses his way to understanding. "Nah, you don't need to find them. Here. I've actually got all the data you'll want." It just so happens that /has/ a dataslug already ready -- because it's a copy of the one he passed to an underground pirate broadcaster. He offers it in smug challenge, as though he expects Sky Lynx was bluffing and he's happy to call it.

"Excellent, I am glad you are still amicable to transferring your prisoners to myself, even if we do not meet optic to optic on the issues at hand." Sky Lynx responds, as he shifts again, and then he pauses. "Pardon me, I came without support, so I shall have to provide for myself, as it is no trouble." With that, the massive creature splits along a seam running across his horizontal middle. The two parts of the form separate and a head from the lower half folds out as legs fold out from the upper half. Rising majestically into the air, Sky settles on a large building overlooking the courtyard to watch below.

Lynx, on the other hand, remains on the ground and shakes his golden head before turning his attention back to the rebel. "So, now that the formalities are complete and terms have been met.." the creature lowers his head and opens his mouth. "Please place the dataslug within my maw and I shall make sure it is placed where needed. After all, while I do not have hands, I have my ways." he comments with a rumbling chuckle. "And then you can escort your prisoners to me for transport."

"I think it's a mistake." Hot Rod is unusually sober as he says that, clear-eyed, clear-voiced. "But it's what they decided." He smiles, then, slight and rueful. Rolling his shoulders in a shrug, he strides up fearlessly to place the dataslug in Lynx's mouth. "Unlike some of you guys, I'm not here for the power trip. If you /accidentally drop/ that or anything," he says, almost like he doesn't trust Sky Lynx not to destroy evidence, "I've got backup copies. Just so you know. And you can tell Prowl that, too. I've got backup, and I'm backing it up all across Cybertron. You can't keep the truth down forever."

"Without truth..." It is Sky that speaks from above, able to hear what is spoken to his Lynx component, "..there is no justice." the wyvern offers from his perch as the creature looks down to insure that this isn't some dirty terrorist trap. Not that Hot Rod looks like he would ever do that. You can never tell when he will set up the bomb.

"I can understand your apprehension, after all, as one that is on the run himself from the Autobots - or rather, the Senate, then I suppose that you would have your reasons to be wary with any dealings with any of us. But rest assured, I am not your typical Autobot." As if Hot Rod could not figure that out for himself. "If any one of us can make sure to see that your cause here finds its way to the proper conclusion, it is I." the magnificent creature responds.

In the meantime, Lynx finishes processing the dataslug and sets it in quarantine. No installing it on him, it probably has nasty shareware on it that he wants no part of. Can never really trust dataslugs from unknown civilians, after all. If he installed it, next thing he knows, he could have datafiles full of Camien porn and running Internet Explorer 8 as his default. /UGH/. Lynx makes his way up to the doors of the entrance and settles down to await Hot Rod marching out the prisoners.

Believe it or not, but the file is clean. The recordings themselves are as vile as can be -- not on Hot Rod's part, or the part of his fellow rebels, but what they show proves there was more than thoughtless contempt for authority behind what has taken place in Nyon. The quality of the recording is quite good! You know, for a bunch of backwater malcontents.

"Okay. Great." Hot Rod grins. He seems to find the reassurance funny, as though it isn't even worth getting mad about the inevitable failure of justice which will surely occur. "Good luck with that. But -- I'll be back in a sec. You just wait here." Then he ducks into the theater, leaving Sky Lynx alone for a long moment in the ruins. Maybe he made a run for it.

When Hot Rod vanishes, the Lynx starts to pace, restless. The creature glances up towards where Sky is perched. The wyvern's tail quietly twitches in irritation as the two creatures await the return of the rebel, hoping that this was not a trap after all. He would surely regret crushing the flashy little bot should that happen. As he waits, he clicks on his internal vocoder.

"Entry 18.03.BZAE --" Sky says to himself, "This cycle I have found myself back in the polity of Nyon. Much has changed here since the cycles I recall fondly of my visits here. When I would visit the theater I currently stand outside of awaiting the transfer of these prisoner's of Hot Rod, I am reminded of better and fonder times. Hot Rod, with his quick wit and still slightly immature antics reminds me much of a young mech, after all, he is still not trusting of the Senate, as I suppose one of his age and stature within the system would be. But somewhere within, he does show potential to assist those that are willing to see past the brash and colorful exterior. I doubt I will have the time nor patience to work with him on this, however, there are countless others that could do so." the wyvern prattles to himself.

"Regardless, Nyon. I remember this well. The beautiful plaza that is now in ruins below me. There was a play I saw here once.. the name of it eludes me at this time, I have seen so many, but I remember the song that was the primary theme. A sentimental ballad about a spacefarer that was having to leave his cojunx endura behind as he ventured forth on an exploration that he was doomed to never return from.. oh, how did it go.. ah, yes."

As they wait, the two creatures sort of harmonize with each other as the creature warbles for a moment, and then begins to sing, seeing as he is alone at the moment.

"Far away,
This mission is taking me far away.
Far away from the memories,

Of the people who care if I live or die.

The starlight,
I will be chasing a starlight.
Until the end of my life,
I don't know if it's worth it anymore.

Hold you in my arms,
I just wanted to hold,
You in my arms.

My life,
You electrify my life.
Let's conspire to ignite,
All the sparks that would fade just to feel alive.

Now I'll never let you go,
If you promised not to fade away,
Never fade away.

Our hopes and expectations,
Black holes and revelations.
Our hopes and expectations,
Black holes and revelations."

Sky stops singing as he hears something from down below, his head snapping down to keep a more careful watch on the area below. "Foolish me, I should really pay more careful attention to my surroundings. Close vocoder." the wyvern settles down, his golden visor staring below as the red-opticed Lynx continues to pace.

That noise just might've been Hot Rod, who pauses in the entry of the theater to listen on his way back out. "You know, most of the songs around here are a /lot/ more rude," he says as he walks out. Is it rude of him to have eavesdropped? OH WELL.

If Sky Lynx expected Hot Rod to drag Nyon's former law enforcement behind him in chains and shackles, battered and shamed, then surely it's a little weird that they walk behind him free and unrestrained. The real miracle is that none of them -- cough, cough, Cuffs -- take the chance to take a shot at him. Some of them look cocky; some of them look resigned. Several of them look battered, but they aren't actually in bad shape, and appear to have received medical treatment of some sort. Hot Rod doesn't look that much better, with his paint all scuffed up from the same encounters. "Okay, here you go. To justice, or whatever."

Sky doesn't seem to care if he was eavesdropped on, he can sing as well as he can do everything else, after all. As Hot Rod leads the former SCU out, Lynx converts to his cargo pod mode and extends a landing ramp. "Please, femmes and mechs, step right up. No pushing, no shoving, there is plenty of room for all." And indeed, there is. Hot Rod could probably use the cargo pod as a home for homeless mechs. While not as plush as his shuttle pod, the cargo pod has firm and fresh seating, proper restraints, a small refreshment area, tac-screens (that are currently shut down) and enough room to load a small army and its supplies easily.

"Normally I have someone on board to show you where to sit, but sit where it is available and please place your restraints in position and prepare for transport to Iacon."

Hot Rod stands way, way, waaay back. Just in case it's all an elaborate trick to arrest him. Somehow. When no enforcers come boiling out of Lynx's belly, he relaxes a little. Signaling to whoever is left inside the theater behind his back, he says, "I guess that's that." He looks a bit confused by that, honestly: his expression is open and easy to read, certainly far easier to read than he would perhaps be comfortable with. Should he be trying to break them out. But wait, they are bad guys! This is too complicated for him.

Sliding the door close, Lynx seals the prisoners in tight. Swooping down, Sky merges with his Lynx form again, becoming his full magnificent self from two excellent halves. "Thank you for your cooperation, Hot Rod. It is my sincere hope that once this nastiness between yourself and Sentinel is cleared up perhaps you can find a way to find at least an aligned status with the Autobots. I believe that we could find ways that would be beneficial to us both."

With that, the Sky module protoforms merges into his Lynx module, becoming the space shuttle format. With a thrust of his engines, Sky Lynx rises off the ground and flaring his engines, rockets skywards, heading towards Iacon.

"Sentinel can--" What was it Hot Rod was saying about things being ruder in Nyon? Because WOW, his next few words are SO RUDE until he picks up again, "--until he starts /fixing/ some of the /problems/ in Iacon." Those are his words of farewell, with a last wave of his hand as Sky Lynx departs. He watches to make sure that the Autobot isn't going to return, and that no others come following after, then turns to head into the theater, "Okay! Let's clear out of here before they come back and arrest us, huh?"