Getting the Collar

A bulky mostly black police vehicle is cruising through the streets of Iacon; it's one of their members that hasn't been seen in some time, and those that know him are grateful for that fact. He's given a wide berth as he moves along the roadways, following the rules of the road with machine precision. He's on his way to the IPD HQ, not to turn in any reports, but to collect some of his things.

And guess who is at IPD? Yes, Prowl. Chief of Cybertron security. Second only to Sentinel Prime himself. He's scrolling through the rosters, keeping tabs on all police personnel, as well as staying up to date with all his contacts around the world. He stops when he comes to Barricade's name. Seems he's missed several reports in a row as of late, and hasn't shown up for the regular training exercises. Or meetings, or any of the other mandatory events. Where the slag's he been?

Barricade walks in, checks in, says nothing to anyone. He goes straight to his own office and locker, moving past Prowl without so much as a salute or even recognition of the other officer.

Opening the door to his office, he steps inside, and sits down at his desk, turning on his terminal.

Well, the timing couldn't have been better. Right as Prowl had been deliberating as to where in the afterspark Barricade could have gone off to, the mech walks right in the door. Soon enough, the officer is standing in the doorway of his office, a stern glare fixed to his face. "Barricade." he says, his tone clearly indicative of the trouble this guy is in.

Barricade looks up at Prowl, the expression on his visage inscrutable. Perfect poker face, showing nothing, giving away nothing. He pauses in what he's doing (which appears to be placing a few personal effects into a case). "Prowl," he addresses neutrally. No fear, but no outward disrespect, either.

"You missed the last few patrol reports." Prowl states evenly. "Is everything all right?" What a question.

"I haven't been patrolling in Iacon." Barricade's answer is as bluntly honest as Prowl's questions are subtly menacing. He finishes putting away the last of his personal effects into the case, and shuts off the terminal, standing up. "I've been patrolling in Kaon. That's where all the trouble is." Like Sentinel.

"Why haven't you been reporting it, then?" Prowl questions, still standing in the doorway. "All patrols are to be reported, -especially- if you modified the originally assigned location." Protocol, duh. "No one has had any idea where you've been for the past several megacycles, Barricade. If you think you can hide whatever it is you've been doing in Kaon, you're foolishly mistaken."

Arcee is visiting the training room in the police station, a favorite place for her since she's returned from Kaon. And especially since she heard the news about the breakout at Kolkular. Wow, did that ever anger her in ways she never even imagined possible. But no matter! These setbacks happen.

As she heads toward the armory area to check out some more ammunition and charge-packs, she overhears some sort of dispute going on, and she heads over to quietly investigate...

"Sometimes," Barricade says, as he rises up out of his chair, overshadowing Prowl, "You have to act on strut instinct. Slag the protocol. There are times when protocol gets in the way of justice, and gets in the way of the collar. I've been layin' low, workin' my way into those pit fights, and that was an opportunity I wasn't gonna miss. They're too jumpy for me to just come back here to punch the clock an' file a TPS report, and if I blow my cover with 'em, they'll scatter back underground an' I'll never make an arrest."

He walks over to Prowl and stands in front of his 'superior' officer. "It's nice of you t' be so worried about me. I bet it just kept you up at night, tanks all churnin' from the stress."

"Don't thank me. It's my job to worry." Right. Of course it kept him from recharge. Not. Prowl gives Barricade a long, suspicious glare, but doesn't appear to question his motives any further. "A single arrest won't do slag. We have to gather intel, and wait for the right time to strike--end it once and for all. But intel is no use if it's isolated, what if you'd been compromised before you ever got a chance to report back here? No, you need to find a way to report back on a regular basis. Either make use of encrypted frequencies or request a courier to be assigned." Arcee walks up, and Prowl nods in recognition of her presence. "It worked for Arcee here, so I don't know why it wouldn't work for you." He pauses, and folds his arms, fixing Barricade with a pointed look. "But since you haven't reported anything for the past several megacycles, and you've been lucky enough to make it back here, you now have some reporting to do."

Arcee nods to Prowl in acknowledgement, then looks over at Barricade curiously. He's been in Kaon? ...Did she see him in Kaon while she was there?? ...She saw a lot of mechs, but she's pretty sure she never saw him at the Forge, at least not while she was getting video footage there.

"Reports are a waste of time," Barricade states plainly, as he goes to his desk to get into a drawer.

"So you intend to keep whatever information you've gathered to yourself, then?" Prowl questions, because what is the point of undercover if you never even report the intel to your superiors?

Arcee figures she'll be dismissed if these two really need to have a serious discussion without her listening in, so for now, she's just loitering in order to listen. It's interesting!

"No," Barricade replies simply, getting a briefcase out, and putting it on the top of his desk, opening it up. "That ain't the problem. The problem is, I don't think if I filed a report, it would make it out of the station. Neither would the evidence I have in my hands."

"These pit fights? They've got weapons now, Prowl. Military grade weapons. Where the slag you think a miner's gonna get his hands on a scrapmaker or an ion rifle? Someone's feedin' 'em those weapons and the trail is pointin' to someone high in the ranks of power. Maybe Senate high."

He turns around. The briefcase if full of data sticks: records of matches, sales lists. "You an' I know that once it's that high, it ain't gonna get taken to trial."

Prowl glances down at the case full of data slugs. His expression is unreadable as he replies. "Perhaps."

"Do you want me to assign a courier to you?"

"That depends. Is your courier disposable?" Barricade asks plainly. "'Cause if they follow me into the pits, there's a good chance they ain't comin' out alive."

"No, but he has been there before." Prowl replies, nodding toward Arcee. "I doubt you will have any further reservations, once you have met him."

"Send me a memory stick then," Barricade says dismissively. "I can carry 'em in and out and leave 'em as a mobile dead drop. Safer all around, since they can dock with me and record what I'm seein' and hearin'."

Arcee very quietly heads back down the hall toward the armory. She'd love to stay and listen to this conversation in progress because it sounds like Barricade's been doing much the same thing she has in Kaon, perhaps even more involved. But when she was there, she didn't want someone there telling her what to do and when to do it, so she did the mission on her own terms. Seems to her like Barricade is much the same way.

"We'll see about that." Prowl replies. "I will give you coordinates for a rendezvous point." He turns to follow Arcee out. "And Barricade."

"Try to get better at communication. You must understand that simply disappearing like that is likely to arouse -suspicion- regarding your true motives."

Barricade smirks, picking up the briefcase of his own items while leaving the evidence behind -- carefully groomed so as to make his own fights look like a necessary part of a sting operation. "You know my record. I may not follow protocol all the time, but I get my collar."

"I suppose so." Prowl shrugs, and with that, steps out of the doorway and into the hall.

Taking his briefcase with him, 'Cade makes his way out of his office and into the hall, preparing to leave. "Just remember what happened when you sent that mechaforensics report to Flatfoot," he asides to Prowl. "And ask yourself - hypothetically speakin', of course: What would you do if it was your superiors that were corrupt? An' then ask, "What procedures are there t' do somethin' about it?"

Prowl doesn't reply to that question. "Sorry, but I'm done hearing about conspiracy theories." is all he says, before returning to his own office. It's his job to keep the peace and keep criminals and outlaws off the streets, not challenge his superiors' methods. He's tried to explain that to Barricade, but the mech didn't seem to get it the first time so there's really no point in trying to explain it again, is there?

"I ain't talkin' about sparkeaters an' the necrobot," Barricade grunts. "I'm askin' you about -law-. /Is/ there a law t' deal with a corrupt Senator? A corrupt /Prime/? An' if not, then how is justice done when there are those t' whom it doesn't apply? If it ain't happenin' now, consider th' future. All the protocol in the books don't matter if there are those above th' law. Y' might as well just be pluggin' in to a wall."

Prowl pauses at the door to his office, his face again unreadable. "Of course the law applies to them. The law applies to everyone. Now, as I said before, I'm done hearing about conspiracy theories." And don't you dare start talking as if you know the law better than Prowl does, because you are not Ultra Magnus and only Ultra Magnus is allowed to say that.

He turns and enters his office then, the door sliding shut behind him.

Barricade smirks to himself, shaking his head as he leaves the police station, never intending to return. "Never trust a desk jockey with a beat cop's job," he mutters to himself, stepping out of the doors.