Disposable

Blast Off 's optics dim a little at the mention of that particular "friend". He rolls his shoulders as if releasing tension at the thought of that street bum trying to land in his lap the other night, then regains his aloof state. He watches Arcee order the wine, and gives a small nod of approval. "I think you'll enjoy that." He regards her another moment, then asks, "You look fairly professional. Do you work around here?"

Then he looks over at Shiftlock faceplanting on the bar, and decides for a somewhat more direct approach. "Rough night?" He asks her.

"You try keeping a bunch of syk-heads out of trouble," Shiftlock murmurs against the bar.

Prowl doesn't usually go to bars. At least not for the same reasons most mechs do. Because to him it's just a waste of time. Just like any other leisure activity. No, he's got business to deal with. He strides in, and sits down next to Shiftlock, the fembot with her face down against the bartop. "Shiftlock, isn't it?" he asks, his tone completely devoid of any warmth whatsoever.

"I, um...yes, yes, I do, I work down the street," Arcee says to Blast Off. When Prowl enters and approaches Shiftlock up at the bar, her optics widen and she watches with interest.

"It might be," Shiftlock replies, still face-down against the bar, not allowing her face to be positively ID'd. "It might be a knock-off. Or it could be someone renting her frame out, you know how popular that is now," she mumbles a little louder in reply. She doesn't otherwise move.

Blast Off tilts his head at Shiftlock. "I... would imagine." Because that's all he ever PLANS on doing.. is imagining. Not like HE'D want to have anything to do with that kind of riffraff. BUT... he has a job to do. "You... were talking... the other night. About... things. Things I have noticed as well. I... was wondering if..."

Just then Prowl walks in, and Blast off immediately silences at the sight of the cop. Hmm. Not good. Certainly can't talk about... rebellion in front of THAT guy. He just watches the two, unsure how to continue.

Prowl's face hardens, if that's even possible, since the look he had on just now was already pretty hard. "Citizen, you will show the proper respect due by looking at me when I speak to you, and you will answer my questions directly and truthfully." he says, his voice still devoid of emotion. "I won't ask you again."

Arcee glances over at Blast Off nervously. Even though she isn't the one in trouble, she's nervous for Shiftlock, who could be in HUGE trouble if she doesn't comply.

Shiftlock sits up, reaches over to her drink, and finishes it calmly, before setting the glass back down on the table. She takes her time on purpose, adjusting her plates, and the fresh purple insignia on the center of her torso.

"Well, Officer, I'm not aware of any laws that require me to show you any respect, and until I see your identification and-or a warrant for my arrest, then I am under no obligation to either respect you or answer your questions." She smiles pleasantly, leaning one elbow on the bar. "If you want something you can ask \*nicely\*. Didn't they train you with any manners?"

Blast Off glances back at Arcee. He's not nervous... for anyone, really. But he's aloof like that. What he is is a bit annoyed that it appears his second attempt to see if Shiftlock is one of those Decepticon sympathizers is going to get foiled... again. She doesn't seem to have even noticed him. The pink femme at least has, so he gives her a slight shrug, leans away again and sips some more wine.

Prowl doesn't answer any of her quips. He simply presents his badge, which is quite genuine with its red Autobot insignia emblazoned upon it, and takes mental note of her disrespectful behavior for later.

He arches an optic ridge at her then, putting away the badge once she has seen it for what it is. "Who said anything about an arrest?" he says calmly. "I am simply here to ask you a few questions, and if you are cooperative enough, there may be no need for such a thing." Key word being may. "Now," he takes out a datapad. "Describe your exact location and activities, exactly three solar cycles and seven breems ago."

Arcee has heard about the Decepticon movement, she isn't as naive as she may look. However, she knows that passions for some ideals run VERY high, and she's something of a mouse at this stage in her life -- she has no motivation to rebel because she's kept busy, is compensated fairly and lives in reasonable comfort. But she's never really gotten a good look at what those in lower castes need to do from day to day just to survive, and the struggle is like nothing she's ever seen before. Right now, she's definitely worried for Shiftlock. To her, the other femme doesn't seem like some evil crime boss, especially because she cares so much for her addict friend.

Shiftlock smiles. Deviously.

"Exactly three solar cycles and seven breems ago? All right, let's see if I can pull it out of my memory files," she muses, tapping her chin. "Let's see, I was just this close," she says, pinching her fingers together, "to an absolutely \*fantastic\* overload with a couple of mechs. Or was it three? I don't remember, there were a lot of hands going everywhere, you know how it is," she explains casually, reaching over for a refilled glass. "You want more details for your records? Names? Turn-ons? Erotic sensor points?"

Prowl's face doesn't change, even as Shiftlock starts to describe something that she is probably hoping will make him uncomfortable or embarrassed. Nope. Not Prowl. Oh, he's a detective, he knows that devious smile. She's just way too obvious. Pff. Is that the best she can do?

But for now, he decides to roll with it, apparently doing just what she's suggested, taking down the details for his records. "Mhm. Yes, in fact, I would like more information for my records, not names or sensor points but more location. I asked you about location, but you didn't answer that particular part of the question."

"Recycling bin number three, back alley of Piston Drive, Dead End, Polyhex," Shiftlock replies coolly. She has to admit, she likes this one. He's got struts. "Want me to show you the stains?"

Blast Off tries hard /not/ to hear the things Shiftlock is describing, and goes back to reading his datapad, pausing only to sip his wine and glance occasionally around the bar in case that other guy comes in. At one point, he glances back to Arcee. "You said you work near here?"

Arcee looks back at Blast Off. Just...the look on her face, Blast Off can probably tell she has absolutely zero idea of what Shiftlock's talking about. Sounds like...a fight? She isn't sure, she just looks darned confused! Blast Off's question gives her a smile. "Yes! I'm a council aide," she tells him.

More notes are going down on the datapad, and Prowl's face is still severely lacking in any kind of emotion. "Uh-huh. Thank you." He inputs a few more things, then turns the datapad around to face her. It is now showing Sky Spy footage of a small group of mechs sneaking into a relinquishment clinic in Polyhex. And another, of the same group sneaking into a medical facility in Kaon. And another in Altihex. Presumably for energon, or supplies, but mostly for drugs, at least according to the police. The timestamps indicate that they occurred at the precise time Prowl is talking about. Three solar cycles and seven breems ago. A group of medical technicians are being assaulted and overtaken by Drift and a few others in the one from Kaon--and someone who looks very much like Shiftlock is with him. "This look familiar? Must have been a very erotic fight, given your description of it."

"So what do you do?" Arcee asks Blast Off with a smile. "I'll bet it's something pretty high-end and classy!"

"I dunno, that's a pretty grainy image. Looks like it might be digitally altered, too," Shiftlock smoothly replies. "You \*do\* realize there are a lot of knock-offs in the clinics these days, and it's not hard to look like someone else when you swap paint. If you're trying to say that's me, then I'm sorry, Detective, but you have the wrong femme."

Blast Off gives Arcee a small, polite nod. "Ahhh, I see. You work with the Senate, then." His voice is pleasant, if a bit flat. "...Enjoying your job? You must see many things as an aide..."

Arcee asks him a question, and he looks off to the side, gazing at a spot on the wall, then looks back to Arcee with an important air about himself. "I am an Astrophysicist in Vos. We're researching several important projects... all top secret, I'm afraid, but quite... exciting, really."

"Hmm." Prowl rubs his chin, though of course he's only pretending to look pensive. In his mind, he has already carried out the verdict. "You're right, there are quite a few knockoffs out there. Which is precisely why I need to sample your fuel lines, so I can cross-reference it with the body fluids found at the scene." He takes out of a syringe and sticks it onto a vial, then holds it up, waiting for her to comply.

"Yes! Maybe someday I'll be a senator, but...not yet. I'm still learning the ropes, and there's a lot of ropes," Arcee says, sipping the wine. "This is a really good choice, you are kind of an enerwine guru," she laughs. "And you get to study \*space\*, how amazing is that?? I love it!"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Drift wanders into the bar, still looking slightly haggard and discombobulated, but it's clear his current drug trip is coming to an end. He glances frantically around the bar, and his gaze eventually lands on Shiftlock. He makes his way over to her quickly, stumbling some. "Primus, I was looking for you..! I can't find Rustwax. The last time I saw him he'd was wandering towards the smelting pools..." A closer look may reveal that Drift looks like he's been trampled on and then some. There's even liquid leaking from the side of his mouth--but it's clear that this isn't some side effect of the circuit speeders...

Blast Off sips his wine, listening to the pink femme. He nods his head. "Well... politics... offer you a lot of ropes, all right..." Ropes to HANG yourself with, he thinks bitterly, but brightens at her next words... at least a little bit. "Ah, yes. Heh. I suppose I am. It's something I enjoy... a little class, a little \*culture\*."

Then she mentions space, and his optics flicker and darken before returning to normal. There's a longer silence, then he replies quietly, "...Yes. space. Well, I \*am\* a space shuttle, so..." His voice trails off, then returns. "Of course, deep space travel is forbidden, but..." He looks at her, and there's something there that wasn't there before... longing? "You have good taste, then. Space is a beautiful place."

Then DRIFT appears, and Blast Off winces inwardly....

Arcee smiles very kindly at Blast Off. That's what she seems to exude, more than class or refinement, she is...a very kind spark.

As Drift comes stumbling in, she squirms uncomfortably, then glances to see if the officer is still there in the bar. If he is, this might get...interesting, very quickly.

Prowl had been about to take the sample when Drift bursts in. Oh, what perfect timing. Shiftlock will have to wait. Besides, it's not like he won't be able to track her down again later, thanks to the Sky Spies.

Immediately, the detective is on his feet, his weapon trained on the drug addict. "Drift, you are under arrest for multiple counts of illegal procurement and usage of medicative drugs, multiple counts of assault and battery on medical personnel, and multiple counts of assault and battery on various law enforcement officers. You have the right to--" But then he stops himself, as if having just remembered something.

"--oh, I almost forgot. You're disposable class, you don't have any rights. In that case, surrender now or I will be resorting to lethal force."

Arcee is scared, and she doesn't have any idea WHY. She's not the outlaw, here. She's never even had a traffic violation. But the showdown between Prowl and Drift is making her so nervous, her hands are shaking slightly as she sips her enerwine. It's just too good to ignore, though. These are life lessons learned through observation! They're molding her into who she is.

Drift's optics quiver, and he looks dismayed. Then he sighs. "Look... just take me to a relinquishment clinic," he begs, "I've been meaning to go there and I hear it's much more peaceful and safe place than the dungeons.."

Blast Off glances back to Arcee, then stops to stare as Prowl stands up and tries to arrest the empty. He watches dispassionately... at least on the outside. On one hand, it's not like he cares about the disposables.. especially druggies like THAT one. But there is something about the smug righteousness of the cop... something that reminds him of the Senate, too... that just makes him bristle inwardly a bit.

He turns back to the femme, though. Her hands shake, and he offers to get her another glass of wine. "Don't let such things concern you too much. It is... simply the way it is..." Though Drift's mention of Relinquishment Clinics causes him to blink and ask the "bum", "You... actually want to GO to that place?"

"I've never seen anything like that before, Blast Off," Arcee admits. Sure, she \*knows\* about the disposable class -- who hasn't heard of them?? But the reality of who these mechs are and the difficult way they live is beginning to become apparent. Things have just gotten 'real' for her.

"That's against protocol." Prowl says coldly. "Now, hands behind your back." He demands, and takes out a pair of stasis cuffs. "I'm taking you to a holding cell in Rodion while we figure out what to do with you."

"Primus, in the name of Primus, please!" he begs. "I've known mechs who somehow managed to get out of those damned prisons and they were.." he drops his gaze. "unrecognizable physically and mentally." He grabs Prowl's arm. "Please, please... I mean look at me! The relinquishment clinic is really the only place where people like me can choose to stop existing in this miserable hell of a world.."

Blast Off raises an optic ridge at Arcee. "I take it you haven't been... out much, then? Not that you'd have any reason to WANT to go into HIS world.... I most certainly wouldn't recommend the trip. You look like this... bothers you, though." He stops to stare at Prowl and Drift as he begs for... death? Ok, it's a bit ...odd to watch for him, as well.

Prowl brushes him off, his weapon coming up again. "I said, hands behind you. Comply or I will resort to lethal force, and you'll have resisting arrest on your record as well." He dismisses Drift's further pleas to let him go to a relinquishment clinic, because clearly this mech had plenty of chances to do so in the past, and never had. So what makes anyone think he'd actually do it this time? Yeah, didn't think so.

Arcee begins wondering to herself if Drift's going to end up terminated on the bar-room floor. If her Senate boss got wind of where she was and what she had seen while she was out, she'd be in big trouble! She was supposed to be working, or being a nice femme tidying up the break room. Not in a filthy bar watching empties get busted. But she got to meet an astrophysicist! That was kind of interesting. And he was pretty suave to boot. Maybe he'd buy her drinks if he saw her in here next time around! "No, I'm not really supposed to leave the forum," she admits with a conspiratorial wink to Blast Off.

His optics widen with terror. "Primus.. n-no..." He mumbles, and completely disobeys Prowl. He struggles, trying to scramble away from Prowl. He stumbles over to Blast Off. "Please tell me you have a gun that you can blast a hole in my chassis with," he begs the shuttle former desperately.

Blast Off finds himself grinning ever-so-slightly at Arcee's confession. "A rebel, eh?" He asks, only half-joking. Of course... if she only knew... she IS talking to a rebel. Well... he USED to be. Before he got collared by the very Senate she works for. But she /might/ be an extra pair of optics and audials, so... can't hurt to be polite to her. Though this is taking a lot more socializing than he'd otherwise normally do.

Then... GAH. The bum is back. Blast off stops and stares at Drift, violet optics wide in surprise. He leans away, the glances to Prowl. Even if he DOES have a weapon, he's sure not admitting it with a Cop here. "Of... of course not! Why would a scientist need a weapon? ...Why are you in such a rush to offline yourself? More importantly, why are you in such a rush for ME to do it?" He looks annoyed.

Prowl doesn't say anything more, but fires the weapon, which actually wasn't a lethal one but more of a stun gun. A high-voltage bolt slams into Drift's back, electricity arcing over his body to force him into submission.

"Because--!" But he doesn't get to finish. Prowl's stun gun causes him to stasis lock, considering he hadn't been in very good shape prior to all of this. The druggie collapses onto the floor near Arcee's feet.

Once Drift is on the floor, Prowl forces his arms behinds his back, cuffing them before dragging him out of the bar without another word to anyone else.

Arcee gasps audibly, reflexively scooting back in shock as the empty collapses at her feet. "Oh dear...I know, I mustn't let it bother me, I..." She stares down at the mech, looking slightly relieved when she doesn't see him turning gray and in fact, realizes Prowl's only stunned him. "Blast Off...I think I need to get back to the Forum, before they realize I'm gone. This...this was...just..." She glances back over at Blast Off, optics wide and nervous. "I won't let it bother me," she repeats.

Blast Off jumps back, aloof or no... he's not sticking right there as Prowl starts shooting at Drift- and thus right near HIM too. "Watch it!" He yelps angrily at Prowl, "\*I\* am a fine, upstanding citizen, and I do not wish to be blasted into oblivion because an empty decided to stand next to me!" But Prowl heads off, and then so too does Arcee. He nods to the femme, "Indeed.", then goes back to his wine.