Aftermath to an Execution (Date)

The first place Shiftlock went when she was certain Drift was gone was to the Forge. As one of the Decepticons and one of their best couriers, she knew she could get the repairs she needed without any questions asked. Falling into recharge, she's lying on one of the repair berths on her side, patched up and, for the moment, peaceful.

It's quite some time later that a figure finally makes his way towards Repair Bay himself. Blast Off did manage to shake off Quantum, but only after getting nearly /exploded/ in several pieces for his efforts. It knocked out several systems, including his radios, and he's spent this time pulling himself together and making his way back to a place of relative safety and repair- namely here. He comes inside the bay, wing elevons twitching as he looks around, hoping to spot Shiftlock. He's worried about her.

And there she is. The shuttle's optics fall upon her form lying there, and he immediately heads over. Slowly and painfully- but he manages. He made it this far. "Shiftlock."

It's the voice alone that pulls her out of her stupor. "Blast Off?" she whispers, groggy from being under medically induced stasis lock for deep repairs. She smiles weakly. "It's good to see you're alive - you're alive, right? I'm not dead and this isn't the afterspark, right? Because that would really smelt."

Blast Off comes up to her side, his hands reaching down to lean and rest on the side of her table. "...No, we've had enough.... smelt to deal with tonight as it is, I think..." He looks around the room, "I hope it is over. Yes, if Quantum- or anyone else- tried anything \*here\* they'd be overwhelmed by security in no time. Slag, I could call my team from here... in fact, I think I'd like to see them try, just so I could DO that." His optics narrow, then return to normal as he looks down at the femme, assessing her injuries. "How are you? Where's Drift? Were you able to ...take care of that problem?"

"No. Drift chased me underground but then he just ... drove away," Shiftlock explains, reaching over to put a hand over Blast Off's. "I don't get it. I think he really -is- crazy." She's finally aware enough to notice Blast Off and her optics widen. "--Mech, don't waste your time talking to me, call Hook or Knock Out! you need fixed too!"

Blast Off doesn't pull his hand away. In fact, the other hand comes over to brush against hers for a moment. "I don't get it, either, but... I am pleased you made it back here." There's a quick glance down to his own shattered heat shields. "Well... yes, I suppose I do. I... tried to find you, but... my radio was dead and I wasn't sure where to look. I decided to come back here and get repaired, then resume searching." He looks down at her again, and his optics dim. "I'm just... sorry things turned out the way they did."

Rumble enters from the Warrior's Hall to the west.

"I had a great time regardless," Shiftlock reassures Blast Off. "Anyways, it doesn't matter. I just saw Clench's orders, I'm benched in here for awhile anyways."

The speeder femme is on her side on one of the repair berths with Blast Off near by talking to her - they both look like they've had a rough time of it, but Shift has been patched, while Blast Off is still injured.

Rumble strolls in. "Hey sweets!" he greets Shiftlock with a huge smile. "How you feelin'? They patch you up okay??" And of course, he never leaves his friend Blast Off ungreeted. "Heya, Blast Off, I brought you some recordin's of opera music so you can feel better soon. Don't ask where I got it from, just enjoy it."

Blast Off looks down, and gives her a small nod. "I did, too... up until THEY showed up. I intend to put a stop to that. They're BOTH crazy, and BOTH harboring dangerous vendettas. They won't rest until either they're dead... or we are. I know which \*I\* choose." Also, Shift was \*totally\* about to go over and spent the night at HIS place, and now.... they'd both be more likely to fall asleep on a recharge berth than anything else. Which makes him hate Quantum and Drift ALL THE MORE. He keeps his hand close to hers. "I... did want to say, that..."

Then Rumble arrives. The shuttleformer stiffens and straightens immediately. Oh \*great\*. Just when he thought his night couldn't get 8worse\*. His hand draws back to his side and he stares down at the smaller mech. Then what Rumble says registers, and he blinks. "... Opera music? How did you know I liked that?"

"I'll be fine, but chalk this up to having an insane stalker," Shiftlock replies to Rumble, cheered more by his presence. Now she can be happy since both of the mechs that are special to her are here. "Drift really IS trying to kill me, Rumble. He tried to slag me last night. I don't think I'm going to be safe unless I stay here for awhile."

Shift doesn't mean to be rude and ignore Blast Off's last statement - she's still just a bit groggy from coming out of induced stasis. Whoops.

"I heard you talkin' about opera one night when you was back at the tenament," Rumble tells Blast Off, "So today I did a l'il window shopping..." No need to let on that windows were actually broken, of course, "An' found the best hits or somethin' from the best seasons of some neopolitan cosmopolitan opera show thing. Enjoy."

Blast Off will discover a rather nice recording collection of some of the best operatic songs of all time. However, the store's anti-theft protection is still stuck to the side of it. Looks like Rumble tried hard to scrape it off but it remained on there anyhow. As they say, it's the thought that counts.

"If that fraggin' rustpile shows up here, I'll beat the <CENSORED!> outta him, cutiepie," Rumble tough-talks when Drift's name is mentioned. "He don't stand a chance!"

Blast Off's back to his more aloof, stiff self with Rumble around, anyway... he's still trying to figure the mech out. He doesn't like him, yet Rumble is still oddly... decent sometimes. It's... annoying. Then again, that's generally Blast Off's default approach to about anyone. The Combaticon glances to Shiftlock. "Well... next time I plan on being better prepared. I need better weapons in shuttle mode." He glances away, wondering how soon he might be able to get some weapon upgrades fighting in the Pits. Then back to Shift. He can't quite resist pointing out, "Well... you would be safe back where I am. Most of my team is nearby, and we... stick together. Attack one of us, and you've attacked ALL of us. You probably wouldn't want to stick around all the time, but... if you ever need a place for a night or two, it is there."

Then Rumble hands him a questionably-obtained copy of Opera hits. The shuttleformer stares at it, optic ridges raised as he takes in the anti-theft protection still stuck on the side. He holds it, not \*wanting\* to accept the smaller's mech generosity (?).... but...but... it's \*culture\*. It's class. It's... things that Blast Off sorely misses. He finds himself having to say, "...Thank you." Then he adds- not sure why Rumble's being nice to him, "Why?"

"Haven't you considered that he's not your enemy, Blast Off?" Shiftlock asks the shuttle concerning Rumble. She grins at the minicon's eagerness to fight. "You should have been there, Rumble. I ran him over." She giggles at that.

"Pssht, GOOD. He deserved that," Rumble exlaims, nodding in approval to Shiftlock's treatment of Drift.

"Okay, I gotta BIT of an ultimaterium...uhhhmm...a motive, I mean, for giftin' you," Rumble admits to Blast Off. "But I think you'll think it's a good reason. It's cause I want you to see that...Decepticons ain't all about low class or no class. It's a lot more than that. It's about a movement \*united\* against the corruption. I'm just tryin' to reach out an' show you how it is. We can find common ground. An' there's no reason for you to feel, y'know, unwelcome cause we ain't your kinda mechs. You are always gonna be welcome to join up."

Blast Off glances to Shiftlock, then to Rumble. He studies the smaller mech. Ok, maybe not that. Drift and Quantum are /enemies/. Rumble is just- well, a possible romantic rival, but not enemy, just....

The Combaticon stares down at Rumble, then finally acquiesces, giving him a small nod. "My... apologies, then, if I have come across as... boorish. The Decepticons have been far more civilized and thoughtful than any Autobot has ever been. I do appreciate the gesture." And he looks up at the music selection. "I shall enjoy listening to this."

"Get in touch with your inner rebel," Shiftlock encourages as she grins with Blast Off. "They won't let you have culture? Take it anyways. They gave you the piston shaft for no good reason, so what do you owe them? /Nothing/. You can be a gentlemech and a soldier at the same time. Slag, you could teach it to some of the other fraggers around here. They could use a few lessons."

The speeder attempts gingerly to sit up. "Oh man, I still feel like my backside's half blown out," she complains, rubbing her hip. "Guess since Clench owns my aft right now, I might as well get some practice in. Drift isn't gonna stop. He's just... " She shakes her head sadly. "I tried to help him, I really did. But since Gasket died, he's just -gone-. The Drift I knew is dead. He's just a monster now."

Rumble grins up at Blast Off. He doesn't always understand Blast Off's many mood swings, but he really does want the mech to seriously consider joining up. Perhaps if he's swayed, then some of his other friends and associates will follow.

Feeling some sympathy for Shiftlock, Rumble goes over to commiserate with her. "Hey, want me to get a buncha mechs together an' go waste him??" he offers. "Cause I got no problem doin' that."

Blast Off's optics narrow. "Indeed." He glances about the room. "I know I could. There aren't many High Castes here, and while they may not be very... popular around these parts, we do bring certain skills and knowledge to the table." He frowns as Shiftlock sits up. "Did you sign that agreement with Clench? That fool is full of hot exhaust..."

At Rumble's comment, the shuttleformer states, "If you do, \*I\* am coming with you. I will see an end to this. They \*ruined\* tonight- of ALL nights.... I OWE them." He lets out a slight huff, feeling sorry for himself again, then leaves Shiftlock's side to limp towards a medic and a nearby table for repairs.

"I need a job," Shiftlock explains. "Data smuggling is fun work, and it's not like I had anywhere else to go. I mean... get this: I don't have a caste. I was /never evaluated/, never saw a guild assessor, I have no identification, no records, no function card. /Nothing/," she says, becoming more energetic as her systems recalibrate. "You know what that means? That means -I don't exist in the system-. No assessment, no ID. No ID, no function. No function, no job, no job -no energon-. I'm kind of slagged."

"You are welcome to come along an' join the beatdown posse, iffen when we get it together," Rumble tells Blast Off. "Ain't gonna be pretty, but it'll be what this mech's had comin' to him for a WHILE." He peers over at Shiftlock curiously. "Maybe we can...get you set up with a fake ID? That's what a lotta mechs end up doin' here to get 'real' jobs, cause otherwise they gotta turn to crime."

Blast Off gets assigned a table, and lies down so that medics can begin working on his repairs. It's nice to have a place he can do this... there was a patch of time there where if he got damaged, he would have just been slag out of luck. The medic starts removing bits of damaged armor and heatshields, then connects the Combaticon to a intracircuit line for fuel and pain management.

Looking back at Shiftlock and Rumble, he states, "The data smuggling doesn't pay enough?" Listening to the rest, he considers that. "That's both unfortunate... and fortunate. Perhaps you can use that to your advantage somehow?" The shuttleformer tries to get a bit more comfortable. "I would offer a job with Swindle- he always has plenty of business, after all- but I'm not sure you'd like working for him."

He nods to Rumble. "Yes... I actually let Drift live once, because Rung asked for me to show mercy. Not soon after, Drift killed HIM, instead. That's what I get-what Rung got- for showing mercy."

"It's strange though - no one's /defective/. If your spark is put in a malfunctioning frame they -change it-. No one is ever forged /defective/," Shiftlock muses thoughtfully. "It's.... it's like I was just culled for the benefit of...." She trails off, power lines brightening. Ratbat was the first to pick her up when she escaped the smelting pools. He was right there waiting. "... I wasn't defective. I was -stolen-."

Blast Off glances over at Shiftlock, taking note that she was forged, not cold-constructed. He doesn't say anything about that, but it's nice to hear. He was, too, though now he resides in an entirely different body than before. But... thank the Politics of the time and Garrus-1 for that. Sigh. He tilts his head slightly, at least as much as he can lying there on the table. "Stolen? By whom?"

"That's right, no one's defective, that's one a the big lies the cops an' Sentinel Prime tell everyone! Sure, sparks can go nuts, like that <CENSORED!> Drift. But no one's MADE defective, that's just...well, yannow," Rumble philosophizes.

"I don't know, but Ratbat's men were right there to find me after I got out of the smelting area. They were -very- understanding and immediately wanted to help me and get me a job," Shiftlock says. "That's pretty suspicious."

"... I wonder what I would have been assessed as."

Blast Off glances at Rumble. "True, but... some sparks start out a bit... off. And some are simply born to greatness." Spoken like a High Caste. He looks back to Shiftlock. "Ah... somehow I'm not surprised, if it's yet another thing the Senate was involved with."

He lets out a small snort, then contemplates Shiftlock's question. "Well... perhaps this is your opportunity to be whatever it is you want to be, without anyone \*telling\* you what to do. Many less fortunate individuals would have loved that choice. Pf course, \*I\* am quite pleased what I was- I knew it the moment I came online, no one had to tell ME." This might or might not be true, but it's the way he remembers it, at least.

Rumble smirks to himself. Blast Off is quite a character...he doesn't always agree with him, but right now he's trying to tone down his tendencies to argue for fun, in the spirit of 'winning over' possible valuable recruits. Perhaps he has a good point here when it comes to Shiftlock, though. "...Yeah, invent yourself! Just do it!" he encourages Shiftlock. "Pick out your own destiny. If you got a will for it, there's gonna be a way there, somehow."

"I still kinda wanna know," Shiftlock chuckles. "If only to satsify my curiosity. I have nothing to go on to invent myself - I just know that I can't stand bein' in one place for too long." She looks at the walls and ceiling. ".... Yeah, I'm gonna go nuts having to stick around here, but the alternative is go out and get slagged by Drift. I don't know how he keeps finding me."

Blast Off listens to Shiftlock. "Well... are there any... gurus of that sort still around? Someone who might have once addressed such things? You might consider looking for someone like that. Just... be careful, lest they cateogrize you and try to stick a label you don't like ON you." He nods to Rumble. "It is difficult to choose and then follow one's destiny these days, but... it's not impossible. I refuse to believe that, despite what the powers that be wish for us."

The medics keep repairing Blast Off, and remove the damaged armor, replacing it with new, fresh metal. A shard of glass from the Poetry Slam earlier falls out as the last of the damaged metal is taken off, and Blast Off catches it. He fiddles with it a moment, letting the light sift through and catch colors. Then he flicks it away with a sigh. After tonight, Shiftlock won't be hanging around with him anymore, he's sure. Too dangerous, it seems. He gazes up at the ceiling now. "I... don't know, either. For an idiot, he does a great job of tracking."

"So be a spy! You could like, re-fashion yourself any way an' invent yourself all the time, then. You'd be great at it," Rumble encourages Shiftlock. Then, he gets a mean smile when an evil thought occurs to him. "You could go undercover an' track Drift, find him, an' call us to kill the <CENSORED> outta him!"

"I dunno... I just ... I can't bring myself to slag him. Not even when he's hunting me down. I'd rather try to find out what's going on in that broken brain module and get my friend back." Shiftlock seems disappointed with herself as she looks down, bringing her knees up to her chest as she sits on the table. "I'm just not a killer... things here? Seems like we're gearing up for war, but what good am I going to be if I can't pull the trigger? I couldn't even kill Ratbat and I had him on the ropes."

Blast Off lies on the table as new metal plates are wielded in and fresh heat shields are fastened back on him. He remarks quietly, "Just because you do not wish to kill doesn't mean your opponent won't. When that happens... it may just be a matter of time. Sometimes it is "kill or be killed.""

"Yannow, that's a good point. Also think about this: not everyone around here is all about fightin'. I know a guy who ain't much into it, but he's got...some kinda mind power that makes him real different," Rumble says, naturally thinking about Soundwave. "If the warrior's call ain't for you, find another thing that is! There's nothin' sayin' that's gotta be your strong point."

Shiftlock is pondering. "I'd defend myself, Blast Off, no doubt about that. I have before. I guess... I don't know what I want."

Blast Off looks over at Rumble, and has to admit to himself that the small mech actually has a point. "He is correct. Find your strengths and use those to your advantage- and to your cause's advantage. You are fast, have a strong sense of justice, and like to think on your feet... er, wheels- find a job and a function that suits you. Something will click, eventually." Then he adds to Shiftlock, "That is good to hear, then. I know all too well that there are those who one must simply be willing to fight." The final fittings are fastened into place, and Blast Off is left to start some self-repair diagnostics there on the table.

"Think about it some more. In the meantime -- fight on the lower tier games for shanix, cause you're good at them. An' you can always stay with me if you want," Rumble tells Shiftlock. "I can make Frenzy take a hike for a while."

"I don't want to keep putting Frenzy out, he doesn't deserve that. I'm good to stay here anyways, I have to," Shiftlock says with a note of amusement. "But yeah, I'll practice at least. Maybe a few rounds with some sparring partners will help me figure out what to do."

"Pfft, Frenzy deserves everything he gets," Rumble grouses -- but there's no heat to his words, he loves his brother. "If you want me to hang out here with you or somethin'...just name it, okay? I hate that you gotta stay here."

Blast Off nods.. up until Rumble mentions staying at his place. Welp, looks like they've both offered, now. Unlike his offer, though, Rumble's gets a response... though it's "no". Blast off isn't sure whether to feel vindicated or unhappy. Ah well. He looks back up at the ceiling. "My offer for combat training still stands."

Shift is getting tired of the instability of her life. Time to lay some cards on the table. "Okay, Blast Off? Rumble? I like both of you. I'm just going to come out and say it, I like you both and I can't just pick between either of you. I don't want you guys to fight over me, but I'm pretty sure neither of you are gonna be real keen on sharing."

Rumble looks kind of confused. He glances over at Blast Off for a long moment, then he looks back toward Shiftlock. "...I'm okay with, uh, sharin', if that's what you wanna do." He's been forced to do just that for his entire life, so he's kind of used to sharing. Also, since he's never had a girlfriend until now, he doesn't really understand how things are \*supposed\* to work.

Blast Off blinks and his newly repaired ventilation systems stutter a bit at THAT comment by Shiftlock. He lies there for a moment, grateful he was looking at the ceiling when that happened, and continuing to do so. Finally, he speaks. "I... uh..." There's a glance towards the other two, then back to the ceiling. This is a fine how-do-you-do on what WAS supposed to be their date night. "I just thought... tonight, we were..." His optics dim and he waves a hand with a subtle sigh. "It doesn't matter. It's /your/ choice, not ours."

"Why does it even have to be a choice?" Shiftlock says throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. She slides off the berth and starts walking to the side of the room where she can pace like a caged tiger. Movement movement gotta go fast gotta go faster are the walls closing in or something CAN'T VENT.

Rumble just stands there looking confused. "You want me to go?" he asks. This whole 'femme having emo moment' is beyond his realm of comprehension. "You want us --" he indicates Blast Off -- "to fight it out or somethin'? I don't get it."

Blast Off, on the other hand, just comes to a complete standstill. His response to stress is freeze, if he can't just escape to the stars (not an option at the moment). "Everything is a choice. Even choosing /not/ to make one." (Blast Off is really big on choices, in case you can't tell.) He listens to Rumble, then turns to see Shiftlock's reaction... in at least one brief moment of male solidarity with Rumble.

Shiftlock stops in mid-pace and turns around, feet shoulderwidth apart, hands on hips. "Okay, have either of you two ever been in a relationship with anyone prior to me?"

"Uhhmmm...weeelll..." Rumble rocks on his feet servos slightly, then looks down at the floor. "Not as such."

Blast Off blinks. "Me? Well of COURSE, I didn't just come out of the foundry!" Primus, as if she'd suggest he'd be so ...inexperienced or something. HIM? Bah. There's a pause, then a glance askew. "Well... sort of." He returns to staring at the ceiling. "Well.... maybe an... encounter here or there." Hard stare at the ceiling. "I'm a SPACE SHUTTLE, Okay? There aren't actually a lot of Cybertronians OUT there, you know."

Shiftlock buries her face in her hands. "Oh my primus it's worse than I thought," she whimpers. No no no, this is not how she wanted things to turn out. Not even in the SLIGHTEST.

With a heavy vent, she leans forward, putting her hands on her knees and staring at the floor. You can almost see the curse line wafting up off her as if she were in some anime version of the MUSH. "Okay, see, I was actually expecting both of you to treat me as a one night stand. Rumble, you gave me the impression that you were a real femme-killer mech about town, so, I figured you'd probably just hardline me and go on about your business. Blast Off ... I thought I had a couple of days at most to live and I just wanted to feel like someone somewhere cared, even if it was just for pretend. I never -- I didn't expect the both of you to be the ones who still had their warranty stickers. Primus on a piston I was comfortable with being used and now -I'm- the slagheap lowlife bouncing from one frame to the next!"

Rumble has changed slightly from looking lost and confused to now looking lost, confused, and embarassed. "Uhhhmmm. Wait a minnit...you ain't a lowlife. I don't think you are! Don't be upset. I ain't mad!"

Blast Off immediately lifts up to protest "I DO NOT HAVE MY WARRANTY STICKERS!" as his wing elevons twitch and click for a moment in agitation. "I'm not that... straight off the assembly line!" Egos must be soothed, here, after all. Then, calming himself, he sinks back down. But it's not like he's socially adept, or has actually ever gotten close to anyone. And he lost several millinia to Garrus-1, of course. He continues gazing up at the ceiling for awhile before responding.

"You're not a lowlife. I can assure you \*I'd\* have no interest in one. But I am not sure what the problem is... do you WANT us to treat you like trash to be used and discarded? One minute I think you like me, like... well, earlier /tonight/, then, the next I...I..." he blinks. "I don't know." He frowns. "I do not know what you want, or what you expect. But I am a gentlemech, and I am not like...well, /that/. Nor will I ever be so... uncouth."

"I know you're not mad, Rumble, and believe me, I'm grateful. Drift just decided to MAKE me the object of his affections and then told me to leave - so I did. It's what he asked and out of respect for his wishes, no matter how it hurt, I did. Nex thing I know, he sees me with you and Blast Off and now he thinks I betrayed him and broke his heart, and he wants me dead!" Shiftlock stands back up, and starts pacing again. "I don't really know what I'm doing either, not since Mercury left me; there's just this empty space where someone else used to be, something that made me feel complete and connected to something larger than myself, and now that's gone. It's gone -forever-. I just wanted to ease the hurt and the loneliness an I thought that if I just let some mech frag me and walk away, no harm no foul - no one gets hurt. But... it's not like that, is it?" She starts to sound a little more desperate, a little more sad. "So here I am, I'm trying not to run away from my problems anymore by telling you both what's going on with me: /I love you both/. I don't know how it happened, I wasn't expecting it, but now I'm scared to death that I'm going to hurt you!"

"Ummmmm..." This is so much for Rumble to comprehend at once that he just utterly fails at it. He doesn't know who Mercury is. He gets the whole bit about crazy Drift getting jealous...that makes sense to him, but the rest of it is just too much for his processor to handle. "I don't want you to be upset," he says with concern. "Want me to just...leave you alone? Cause I'll do that if you want. Or if you want me to keep bein' here for you I'll do that, too. I ain't hurt, it takes a lot to hurt me, I'm tough."

Blast Off continues staring at the ceiling. "I still believe, like I told you earlier, that you are going through mourning after losing Mercury. Even if it's simply a physical loss...it \*is\* a loss. Losing parts of you... even..." His voice trails off a bit, because he's speaking far too much from his own experiences losing his entire \*body\*, "Physically.... does affect a person. You don't ever.... forget. Do you have any phantom pains? Phantom limbs or appendages that just aren't... there any more? I wouldn't be surprised." He certainly does, though he keeps mum on that.

"Drift is crazy. Neither of \*us\* are." He falls silent for a bit as Shiftlock says she LOVES them. At the moment he doesn't know how to respond. Glancing at Rumble, he feels some of the other mech's confusion.

Then he turns his head and looks directly at Shiftlock. "I would say the same thing. And again- the choice is yours. You can decide to send us away, and I think we will both honor that. I certainly will. Or... if you are struggling, you can ask us to help. We're strong... well, at least \*I\* am. And as important as it is to be able to stand alone... sometimes one needs one's team nearby." He lets out a small huff, glancing to the ceiling. "As \*annoying\* as my team is, still... we watch each other's backs. Always have... always will." Then he looks back to the femme. "We could be your team, if you so chose."

She stops pacing long enough to listen to them both, and is a little relieved, at least for the moment. Rumble's confusion elicits pity so she relents on her nervous breakdown. "No, I don't want you to leave, Rumble. You're too much fun to be around, I really enjoy that." She goes back to the berth and flops up on it, sitting, kicking her legs back and forth. Maybe the hyperactive little hypercar is just getting stir crazy from not being about to run around. "I definitely don't want to send you away either, Blast Off. I like being around you, too. Despite the attempt on our lives, that was pretty fun."

"Slag in a sluice, femme." Barricade is walking in from the Hall. "You got less control than a cycle with a blown out tire. You don't need a team. You need someone to grab hold of the wheel and steer."

Rumble is silently contemplative as he nods while listening to Blast Off. Then, he seems to struggle with his thoughts as he watches Shiftlock struggle with indecision...until Barricade comes in and says something that resonates with him. "Yeah, I kinda agree with that," he speaks up. "Shifty...anytime you wanna talk to me? You know where I am. Anytime. I don't like seein' you like this. Feel like I'm makin' it worse by standin' here, like I'm pressurin' you or something like that. But that ain't me, that ain't what I'm about. You think about what you wanna do, okay? All I want...is for you to be happy. That's it. No pressure an' no drama." With that, he strolls off. He doesn't seem to be angry or agitated, but he probably thinks that standing there isn't making things any easier for Shiftlock, and this is something she needs to figure out without feeling pressured.

Blast Off listens to Shiftlock, and he too feels like he's just making things worse by being here. When she says their evening was fun earlier, he can't help but give her a glance that conveys just a bit of disbelief. He returns to looking at the ceiling, listening to Rumble speak. Barricade gets a small \*huff\*, "Spoken like a true Kaonite..." he mutters.

The shuttle places a hand up on his face, pinching the bridge of his nose wearily before letting it slide down again. "I... have to concur with Rumble. I think I've made it worse, just like I did when I lived with you. That... was NOT my intent. Not then, and not tonight."

"That wasn't -- I wasn't trying to--" Shiftlock looks at Rumble and Blast Off helplessly. She thought it would make things better if she came out and just said what was going on, she didn't want them to assume she needed help or space - she just didn't know what to /do/.

"I'm Iaconian, mech," Barricade grunts at Blast Off. He walks over to Shiftlock and folds his arms, looking down at her. "Y'see that? I'm gonna clue you in on somethin' girl: You're gonna hurt people. You're gonna hurt a LOT of people in your life, and you'd better get used to that fact right now. Sometimes you won't mean to, and sometimes you will, but it'll happen. The only way to stop yourself from hurtin' people is to /die/."

Blast Off is a /mech/... which means if you tell him a problem he wants to \*solve\* it- right then and there. Since no matter what he said didn't seem to help... it leaves him feeling frustrated and unsure. Also- this \*talking\* and \*socializing\* business? SO NOT what he's good at. The shuttle keeps looking upwards, and once again the wish he could just vanish among the stars crosses his head... but he's soon pulled to reality.

Blast Off snorts softly at Barricade- Iaconian doesn't sound much better. Then he listens at the mech speaks, and there's certainly a ring of truth. He lies silent for a long moment, but finally speaks himself. "He is correct. You seem... frightened of.... I'm not sure. Life? I've tried to help you- Rumble tried to help you... but... we're not sure what you want us to do? How do we... solve this problem? ...If we even can?"

Barricade taps his chin with a clawed finger. "How old are you, femme?"

"... Couple hundred years?" Shiftlock asks meekly. This draws a frown from Barricade. "What's your caste? Function?" She looks down. "I don't have one." Cue further frowning from the police enforcer. "How the frag do you NOT have a caste and function?

Shiftlock quickly explains to Barricade the unusual situation surrounding her creation: Being marked defective, being used as part of a container/combiner experiment with a mutacon, assaulting a senator, and being chased around by a crazed assassin. The more she says the greater the expression of disbelief grows on Barricade's face. "So what you're tellin' me is that you never had a function, never went to primary programming school, never got assessed, and the only trainin' you got was from bein' merged with a Shifter?"

Shiftlock nods yes, glumly.

"I know what your problem is then. /You're a fraggin' baby/!" Barricade snorts, incredulous.

Hearing Shiftlock called a baby just makes Blast Off pinch the bridge of his nose again... and suddenly feel really, really OLD. Of course, he's physically much older than he is /mentally/- since spending a large portion of his time stuck in a box in Garrus-1 left him decidedly short on actual life experience. Still... the shuttleformer sighs and just lies there awhile. She doesn't answer his question, either, which still leaves him at a loss how to help.

But finally, slowly, he pulls himself up so that he is now sitting up. He glances to Shiftlock and Barricade. "I suppose she needs to get out and experience the world, then. Or... I \*would\* suggest that, except the world's gone just a bit... crazy lately."

The Combaticon then swings his legs around to hang over the table and starts straightening armor plates \*just so\*. "My ...offer still stands. ....All of them." He glances at her. "But you must start making some choices. I... don't have the energy- or the place- to make them for you. Go out, find a job... see the sights, maybe learn something new- or stay here, fight, stay where you at least have some backup should Drift appear." Then he goes back to aloofly picking stray pieces off the table- or off him. He finds another shard of glass from their earlier evening- BEFORE it went to slag, and stares at it a moment before placing it aside.

"She ain't qualified to make decisions right now, Blast Off. She's a raw rookie softer than talc," Barricade states. "She's stayin' here until she gets some trainin'. You wanna help? Be my guest, but she's an embarassment to the badge until she's been dealt with. If I'd have known she was greener than a Constructicon I wouldn't have let her run data." He grabs Shiftlock by a door wing and simply /picks her right up/, like a mother cat grabbing a kitten by the scruff of the neck. "I'm takin' her to see Megatron, he'll know what t' do with her."

Shiftlock erks as she's hauled up off the berth. "... Megatron?" she squeaks.

Blast Off's metal plates raise a little at the sight of Shiftlock being manhandled like that. His words are polite ones, but delivered with a hard tone, "Pardon me, but that is NOT how one treats a femme..."

"Eh, cool your jets, mech. I ain't hurtin' her, this is a control hold. Standard police grip for a speeder," Barricade dismisses casually. "Don't worry, she'll be back in one piece after she's had a -real- assessment. You should be thankful it ain't someone like Motormaster. Speeder like her? Yeah, he'd claim her as a Stunticon and break her worse than the rest of his whippin' mechs."

Blast Off doesn't really care what Barricade says. He looks to Shiftlock and radios her, <<Should I just shoot him? Really, it wouldn't be a problem.>> He \*might\* be joking. /Might/ be. He does look a bit repulsed by the description of Motomaster, though. "Then make sure he doesn't go anywhere near her... or me." Thank Primus Onslaught's not like that. "She still deserves more respect than \*that\*. She's a recruit, if anything, not a criminal. Well, at least here. No need to treat her as such." No more a criminal than any of THEM are, at least.

<<N-no, it's okay. I should probably see what Megatron's all about anyways,>> Shiftlock radios back, reassuring.

"You ever dealt with twitchy untrained speeders? I used to have to deal with rookie cops back when I was IAPD. They'll bolt and do something stupid if you don't have a solid grip on 'em. C'mere rookie, you're seein' the boss." And with that, Barricade carries her out of the medbay.

Blast Off looks annoyed, but he relents as Shiftlock radios him. The shuttle's armor plates fall down again and he simply watches them both head out. Well, maybe Megatron will be able to help her more than HE could. The shuttleformer glances down, catching sight of that shard of glass again. Picking it up, he examines it as it catches light... then in a rare mood of sentimentality, he subspaces it... a reminder of happier moments, even if they all seemed to turn to dust in the end. The confused, slightly annoyed, and still rather achey shuttleformer then gets up to head back to his quarters- alone.