Compromised

++ Jump Joint ++

The Jump Joint. There's a line about wretched hives, scum and villainy in
here somewhere.

The place is obviously a dive bar; no one can afford to make it nice - but
it is very durable, and the furniture is almost all bolted to the floor to
prevent it from being used in the repeated bar fights here. The lighting is
all red against dull metallic gray walls, floor and bars, and there are
scorch marks and dents in the walls from scuffles. Rust has gathered in
corners and is often tracked in, along with rocks and other debris from the
boots of the miners that live in the area. The place looks rough, and the
clientelle looks even rougher. You can get low-grade energon in here, mixed
with everything from illegal additives to industrial chemicals that you
probably shouldn't be ingesting if you care about your health.

Decepticon banners have been hung on the walls in places, a strong
indicator of the feelings of the local populace.

Contents:
Shiftlock

Exits:
O [Kaon]

Blast Off has no idea what he's doing here. Well, actually, that's not true. He does... he just doesn't want to dwell on it. It would mean admitting he's not as in control of his situation as he'd like to be. Or have to admit to the chain the Senate holds around his neck right now.

He shoves those thoughts aside and focuses on his job... sniffing out and assassinating members of this new Decepticon movement the Senate is currently so riled up about. And he's looking for his latest lead right now. She's got to be around here somewhere.

Shiftlock sitting at the bar, near the door, where she can see who is coming in. As soon as Blast Off steps into the area, her optics are on him; he's recognized, and she gives him a smirk - it's friendly enought, but not too friendly.

Blast Off spots her as well and gives a small nod of acknowledgement. He pauses to scan the bar and its patrons, his distaste for the area evident as he does so. Then he works to maintain a more neutral expression as he approaches Shiftlock. "I've been looking for you."

"Oh have you?" Shiftlock asks. "Have a seat then. Here I am." She regards him cautiously as she pats the seat near her at the bar. A few of the miners - most all of them larger than either Shiftlock or Blast Off - glance over at the pair, before returning to their drinks.
Blast Off glances at the miners... but if he's fazed by them it doesn't show. He has a certain confidence about him, as if he's no stranger to combat and not easily cowed. But that's not possible, right? He seems to be just a quiet astrophysicist from Vos who has never known anything except a pampered high society existance....

He accepts the offer, sitting down besides Shiftlock and looking for a bartender to place an order for a drink. "You come here often?" He glances sideways at her. "...Or is that a poor line to choose when first addressing a lady one has just met in a bar?"

Shiftlock just laughs at that. "I come here as often as I need to," she explains. "What's a polished guy like you doing in a place like this? You're gonna standout like a rivet that hasn't been driven."
Blast Off turns to face Shiftlock fully before scanning the room again. "Yes... I cannot argue with that. This is hardly my cup of enertea, after all. However..." The drink he ordered arrives and he breaks away long enough to lift it up and swish the liquid idly as he talks. "I've been thinking about what you said." He stops to look at her again. "To my surprise, you were almost making sense."

"Almost, eh?" Shiftlock says, taking a drink of something that looks caustic. "Looks like I need to step up my game." After taking a sip, she grins lopsidedly at Blast Off. "Nah, I'm just kidding on that. If I can just get you to look around and really stop and think about what's going on around you, then I've done my part. It's not my job to push politics. I just want people to be free."

She gestures to the bar with one hand, "These guys are barely able to see sunlight most days, and some of them don't even get that. There are miners that have only seen the sky ONCE. ONCE. Think about that. What kind of society does that to bots?"

Freedom. If only she knew. Blast Off stifles a wing elevon twitch and concentrates on taking a sip of his drink instead. He gives her a small, lightly amused huff at her quip and then listens intently to the rest. "But I am sure you realize that politics are heavily involved in all of this. They are what determine whether people \*can\* be free. They are what affect people's ability to make a living and express themselves, which is what leads to being free... or to being a slave to the system."

He looks to the Miners, then back to the femme. He's not sure he \*cares\*, not being the most empathetic of individuals, though he can at least relate to one thing... being unable to access the sky is indeed a crime as far as he's concerned. This ban on space flight has him unable to reach orbit, and has created an almost physical \*longing\* to get back out where he knows he belongs.

"That is almost a ... crime. And once people are victims of such crimes... sometimes their only discourse is to respond in kind." He swishes his glass again. "Unless that society wakes up in time."

"I heard about what that cop Orion Pax did on the floor of the Grand Imperium," Shiftlock relays with a note of admiration. "He challenged them - the whole Senate, right there. He believes in justice. \*Real\* justice." She looks at her glass. "I don't want some kind of violent civil war. I just want the chains gone."
Blast Off nods. "I heard of that, as well. He is either foolish or exceptionaly brave... I haven't quite decided. It shall be interesting to see how the Senate ultimately reacts to him." The shuttleformer glances at the Miners again, then back to Shiftlock. "Indeed. A war could be devastating." He brings his glass up to his face again, and his voice drops down, "However... sometimes in order to get rid of chains... one has to \*break\* them."

"I know," the fembot quietly replies, suddenly serious. "I broke mine.

Blast Off 's head tilts slightly in curiosity as he regards the femme sitting beside him. "...Oh?"

"Do I look low-caste to you?" Shiftlock asks, looking over at Blast Off, staring him in the eye.

Blast Off 's gaze sweeps up and down as he regards Shiftlock for a moment, then shakes his head once. "Certainly not."

The fembot looks around to make certain she will not be seen, and then pushes aside a transformation plate on her torso. There, on the mesh underneath, is the Elite Guard insignia. It's faded and not cared for, but it's welded into the mesh, and won't come off without cutting.

Blast Off can't quite hide his surprise at that revelation, and his optics flicker a moment. Then he, too, casts a glance around as if afraid of being seen before leaning in to look at the emblem- and then up towards Shiftlock. "Just ...who \*are\* you?"

"I was a senator's bodyguard. MTO," Shiftlock says very quietly. "Right up until I saw what they were planning to do down here. The automation of the mining systems wasn't done to conserve energon. It was done for profit, at the expense of those who work here. They didn't care that it was going to leave hundreds of thousands of workers homeless and empty. It was all for their fragging -greed-."

Blast Off realizes now that he may have found an even bigger fish in this little pond than he had anticipated. This femme isn't just an ordinary rabblerouser. No... this is becoming more interesting. He's learning enough to think that ....technically... he should just find a way to get her alone, complete this execution, and be done with it. Then the Senate will be off his back, for at least while longer.

But... no. This is becoming more interesting, and why not learn more? If for no other reason than to see what all he can learn, and just how deep her connections might extend through this fledgling Decepticon network.

Blast Off leans back a bit. "That... does not surprise me. I am an astrophysicist in Vos. You'd think our finiancial backers might be interested in scientific discovery for the betterment of Cybertronian kind. You'd be wrong, in my experience. Scientific research is encouraged... but only so long as it profits someone. I do believe that if we found the cure for cybercrosis tomorrow... it would only be allowed to come to light if there was profit to be made. In fact, I'd think our sponsors would prefer a long session of expensive treatments as opposed to any outright cure. But that is simply the way of things today."

"An astrophysicist, eh? I'm surprised your job still exists. We don't go to space anymore. We should, but apparently no one seems to think we have a need to even check on what became of all those colonies out there. If anyone even believes they still exist," Shiftlock snorts, before taking another gulp out of her glass.

Blast Off looks down at his glass, trying not to appear glum. "It... still exists. It's just not what it used to be. You can study the planet and the space around it without actually going up into space. Also..." He hand grips the glass more tightly. "We manage to find work... of sorts." There is a darkening of his mood, despite himself. "I'm sure those colonies do still exist... at least /some/ of them. And if \*some\* of us were allowed to do the function we were \*built\* for, then the knowledge and resources that we could bring back would..." His voice grows more bitter before trailing off entirely. He lets out an exasperated sigh and takes a large swallow of his drink.

"They say the act is going to become forced," Shiftlock says, nosequitor.

Blast Off looks over to her. "What act?"

"The Decepticon Registration Act," she replies. "It's not going to be voluntary. They're just going to start marking anyone that resists."

Blast Off casts a side glance over to the femme. Then returns to his glass, idly swishing it again. "I see." There's a long pause. Of course, he's not a bit surprised. If the Senate brought him back to assassinate Decepticons, then they obviously mean to wipe this new threat out... in any way, shape, or form. "You really think they'd go that... extreme?"

"If they cared about what happened to the lower castes, they wouldn't have shut down the mines," Shiftlock replies. She vents a heavy sigh and finishes her drink. "Proteus' Promise seemed more like a trap."

Blast Off tilts his head again. "And yet you do." He states. "You cared enough, in fact, to leave..." His optic ridge raises up as he considers that Elite Guard insignia again. "...An impressive position, and go... on the lam. For..." Another look around at the Miners and assorted "nobodys". "Them."

Then his gaze returns to Shiftlock. "I imagine the Senator didn't exactly look favorably upon that fact."

"I was very persuasive about wanting to leave," Shiftlock murmurs with a smug smirk. "Of course, that means I'm a walking target now, but I assume the incident was so embarassing they simply had my tenure among the high castes redacted. Wouldn't be the first time they decided to simply 'disappear' inconvenient military bots."

Blast Off has to admit that, assassination target or not... Shiftlock does have an ample amount of chutzpah. She defied the Senate... that takes struts. Slag, even \*he\* hasn't done that. But he can't. And besides, it's not really his concern. He's still feeling quite detached from all this anyway... he'd been gone for so long and now everything and everyone is strange and different. What does it matter whose side he takes? Except, of course, for those ever present \*chains\* he is growing to resent with increasing intensity... but again, no matter. He has a job to do, and he's always been a professional about that.

"No, it wouldn't be. But surely you realize they could come after you at some point? If they are as serious about controlling the populace and as dispicable as you say, I imagine anyone they see as a threat is in danger. And then you.. and those you are trying to help... may be at risk." Oh, the irony here. Blast Off simply sounds slightly concerned though, is all. Still making polite conversation.

"So, when are you going to kill me? When I leave this bar, or perhaps quietly now?" Shiftlock asks nonchalauntly, tapping the bar to get the bartender's attention for another drink.

For the briefest of moments, Blast Off freezes as his optics flicker in surprise. Slowly, he leans back, deliberately holding onto his drink with one hand as the other slips down closer to his side. Then, quietly, he asks, "... What do you mean, Shiftlock?"

"Exactly what I said," Shiftlock casually answers, looking at Blast Off. "So where's that other hand going?"

Blast Off stares at her a moment, then a very slow smirk begins to form and he continues leaning back. He appears fairly relaxed, but it's the kind of relaxed stance that can instantly change into something much more action-oriented. An optic ridge raises up. "... I haven't decided yet." The hand remains hanging down in the shadows.

"Very well, I shall not insult your intelligence further." He regards her a moment longer. "And I do prefer simply getting business done. All this subterfuge is not really my style. Not quite... /classy/, after all." Another pause. "How long have you known?"

"About a klik," Shiftlock grins. "You just told me."

Blast Off finds himself grinning just a bit as well. "Yes, I suppose I did. I see why you've survived as long as you have...." He regards her a moment longer, then shrugs. "But no matter. As I said, I am a gentlemech, and playing mind games with a femme isn't quite my style anyway." His expression hardens a little. "I tend to prefer the direct approach... well, direct... to me. My targets never see me coming."

Then he lifts the hand holding the glass for another drink. "I find I will miss our little conversations, though.... A pity. I meant what I said when I stated that you were \*almost\* making sense...."

"You realize they're just going to make you disappear," Shiftlock says, still keeping her cool. "Just like they did the Dynobots. You think Senator Ratbat is going to keep you around after you've had a chance to talk to his targets? You're fooling yourself."

Blast Off grins just a bit more. "Ah, and now you will try and convince me of the error of my ways, and why I should allow you to live." He takes another swig, then places the glass down, looking off to the side just a bit as his mood dampens. "I already disappeared once." He says cryptically. "I have no intention of doing so again."

He looks back to Shiftlock. "They need me. So much so that they went to extraordinary legnths to.... aquire my services. The Dynobots... were simply careless, and it cost them. Besides, they were unrefined. They simply did not fit into this... new world order the senate envisions. \*I\*, on the other hand, do."

"Oh you do. You're -exactly- like Proteus and his ilk. Have fun on your way back to the white-out chamber when they're done with you," Shiftlock states icily through a sharp smile.

Blast Off 's smugness vanishes and he turns sharply to glare at Shiftlock. "...What do you mean." His gun arm hanging to his side tenses, though he doesn't pull out any weapons. Yet.

"You could care less about anything other than your own hide - you give off that field-feeling of someone who's more interested in being comfortable than -moral-, and you don't have the slightest clue what you're being lead into. The senate \*uses\* bots. It chews them up, spits them out and smelts them when it's convenient to their own power plays," Shiftlock snaps. "Didn't it make you the least bit suspicious when the Jhiaxian Institute of Technology just 'happened' to catch on fire the moment Senator Shockwave just 'happened' to go missing?"

You say "Of course it did", Blast Off growls back. "I may have said a few things to lead you on, but I wasn't lying about all of it. Any intelligent mech can see that things aren't..." He stops and ponders whether he should even say this. Ah well, too late.

"...They are not quite... right, I suppose. The wealthy and powerful bend the weak and powerless to their will, and for their own benefit. But that's the way it's always been. It... may just be a bit more pronounced now. \*I\* intend to remain one of the powerful and not allow myself to be trampled underfoot. And what's wrong with that? Is self preservation passe' these days?"

"Not if it comes at the cost of thousands of other lives," Shiftlock says, standing up. She shotguns her drink with a disturbing ease, especially since it probably had half a junior chemistry set in it. "We have to be unified so we can -all- make it. If everyone just looks out for themselves, -there is no society anymore-. Civilized behavior won't mean anything if it's a survivalist free-for-all."

You say "stiffens as she stands up, and it may be apparent now that there is a weapon in his hand, if Shiftlock looks closely enough. It's still kept down low, where most of the bar patrons won't see it.

"What's wrong with survival of the fittest, if one /is/ the fittest? It seems to be the way this society has been shaping up. What I see around me now isn't particularly civilized under its surface, no. I thought and acted a little differently once, believing in a purity of Cybertronian ideals... but have been quickly disabused of any such silly ideas today.""

"So you compromised who you were," Shiftlock retorts.

Blast Off is taken off guard by that, and he finds himself leaning back a bit- though the weapon remains trained on Shiftlock. His optics flicker again as he glances away, then back to her, and his voice quiets down somewhat. "I... simply adapted. To... some rather... extreme changes. Sometimes one has to, in order to survive."

"You gave in," Shiftlock accuses, albeit more gently. "I refused to compromise my beliefs even when threatened with death - or worse, and believe me, there are worse things than death here - and that's why I'm wearing these colors."

"You follow what you believe most deeply. No matter where that goes, or what that means for me right now."

Blast Off 's optics narrow and his mood stays mildly sour as he contemplates what she says. Finally, he states, "I thought I \*knew\* what I believed in, once. Turns out I was mistaken. So I learned to believe in \*myself\*... for despite everything thrown at me, I managed to survive. Ultimately it was my unquestioned skill that... brought me back."

Of course... the way he \*survived\* for those millenias of limbo can just /barely/ be called surviving... but it was surviving, none the less. Now he's in some strange new world he's not even sure he belongs in. "So that is what I stick with, for that is what I know best. Not the nonsense that passes off for civilization today."

"And I have no issue with that. But our beliefs? Well, they're at loggerheads." She puts her cup on the bartop, and passes some sticks of shanix over to the barkeep. "So, now that I know you want to kill me - and that you're a flying type - it's doubtful you're ever going to see me again. Fliers don't go where I go."

Blast Off moves ever so subtly, but Shiftlock will see that weapon trained right on her. "...Who says you're going \*anywhere\*?"

"HEY FELLAHS," Shiftlock says loudly, "THERE'S A HIGH CASTE SNITCH IN HERE LOOKING TO KILL DECEPTICONS."

Suddenly all eyes are on Blast Off and the mechs in the bar start to growl.

Blast Off 's optics widen slightly, then narrow again as he glances about the suddenly hostile bar. Then he glares back to Shiftlock. "...Touche'." He relaxes ever-so-slightly again, shifting so the weapon isn't trained on her anymore.

"Very well, then. But you are /sadly mistaken/ if you think you can escape me, Shiftlock. I am a sniper... one who can lock onto and destroy you from orbit itself. But I can be closer than that and still offline you without you ever seeing me coming. And you are not the only one who comes from an... elite position. I will hunt you down... no matter \*where\* you hide. I've never had a quarry escape me before, and you will not be the first I assure you."

With that, he brings out some of his own shanix to throw on the bar, and quickly strides out towards the door, weapon still in hand in case it is needed. He turns back. "AND I already know you don't want to abandon... THEM." He nods his head towards the miners and empties, then turns away again.