Messages and Messengers

With Nyon in a blackout, it becomes harder to find people. Most people. Okay, people who aren't Hot Rod. Hot Rod's not hard to find with a little effort, although asking after him has become a little more complicated. With the Nyon Police after him, an innocuous inquiry can provoke a wide variety of responses, with the most common -- sorry, Hot Rod -- being confusion and disinterest, but there are also those eager to turn him and those protective of him, or maybe just sick of the police.

But it's certainly not impossible to find him when he's moving more widely than might be wise, and Hot Rod's right at the edge of the expanding circle of influence of the underground datanet that he and his friends are setting up. "So no problems getting it set up?" he asks, leaning in the doorway of a machine shop with his brilliant red finish and flash gold spoiler making him easy to spot from the street.

Asking around is not something Swivel would do too openly or blindly. She elects to only ask people she's seen around the mech before as well as greasing the palms of disposables most people would not even think to ask about due to their 'invisible' place in society. It comes down to her walking around the area someone had last spotted him - the street of the machine shop he was currently pestering - I mean - patronizing. And of course, the mech is unmistakable, and the femme wonders how he hasn't been hauled in already.

Striding up to Hot Rod, the Swivel who is covered in dings, scratches, bores, sloppily patched bullet holes, and otherwise looking like she may have been caught in the midd of a firefight, clears her vents and then tries to lower her voice to attempt to sound mechly and imposing (she doesn't). "'Ot Rod! Put yer 'ands in the air and slowly turn around!"

Yeah. She's not funny at all.

Sliding a step into the shop to put the door between himself and his attacker, Hot Rod lifts his hands -- but not as ordered. His weapons are hot, glowing on his arms and ready to fire. When he sees Swivel on turning, he falters and drops his hands so quickly it seems likely he'd dislocate his arms if he could, just to avoid an accidental shot. His weapons cycle down. He moves from surprise to dismay to irritation in a flash. "Swivel! I could've shot you--." He breaks off once he gets a good look at her, and his eyes go wide. "/Someone/ shot you. Are you okay? Is that from the NPD? Do you need a medic?"

Yeah. That wasn't bright. Swivel COULD have been shot, but she would have taken that like a trooper. It seems to be what she does these days - get shot at. The femme seems amused nonetheless. At least, for a nanosecond. However, she then she looks minorly remorseful realising her sense of humour was not harmless. She glances down and to the side for a moment then up t Hot Rod. She rocks back and forth from her heel to her 'toe' a few times.

"Wellum.... medic kin wait. An' it wunt enforcers this time. Ju'some thugs wither grudge," Swivel respond honestly. She is still remembering the calls for help from a disposable they'd been beating. But more frightening was the red electricity... ah Swivel shakes her head to push that out of her mind. "'Enway," Swivel says after clearing her vents noisily, "I gotter sumtin' fer yeah." The femme digs around her person and produces a small digipad with a message on it. She holds it out to Hot Rod, "'Ere ya go."

Courier Message

Hot Rod,

I wish to meet with you. Pick a time and a place if you so choose. My name is Acuity, and I am an Autobot. I am NOT, however, a member of NPD. (Her personal contact is given.) I am coming alone; I highly suggest you do the same.

If the communications blackout is still in effect, simply have the courier send your reply via the same frequency outside the zone.

In the event that you choose to meet with me, I will see you soon.

Hot Rod glances from the digipad to Swivel and then back again. "You should really check in with a medic when you can. I knew a few that will treat you in exchange for running some errands if you need it," he offers, then looks back down. He is not the world's swiftest reader, but neither does he struggle with the text. He taps looks up after he has finished reading and considers Swivel with a tilt of his head to the side. He should probably give the message more thought, but instead he says, "Tell Acuity sure, and to meet me--." He looks back down at the digipad and scribbles a quick address. "There. If I'm not there, the femme who runs the place will be able to find me."

There is a tilt to Swivel's head. "Ooooh tha'd be 'elpful. S'not a'ways easy t'find valid medics in Nyon, yanno. Always re-workin' my list o' medics tha 'ent gunner salvage ya instead o' fix ya." Swivel beams at Hot Rod, tyhe previous poor judgement in pranks forgotten already. Really, the femme is incorrigible. Although in the back of her mind are so many dark and frightening things nagging to acknowledge just due to the last few cycle's of events. Between Ruiner and Starscream, some very bleak pictures had been painted for the cheery femme.

Swivel taks the address and looks at it, nods her head, and then looks back up at Hot Rod. "Good, good..." Swivel claps her hands together. Another job well done! And she got hazard pay upfront! Hazard pay is nice. Not a lot of people worry about that sort of thing. That was a really kind car. She has no idea what Acuity looks like in her root mode, but even if she did, she'd hardly care. Because, you know, hazard pay!

Laughing at Swivel's summary of Nyon medics, Hot Rod sounds as much resigned as amused. "Yeah. Well. They might not be exactly /valid/ or /licensed/, but they're good people and they'll help you." So, they are criminals, then. Of course. "Why would anyone have a grudge against you, anyway?"

"Uhm, did she pay you to bring the message back?" asks Hot Rod with the awkward reluctance of the forever-broke. "She said to send you but if she didn't pay for it--." He breaks off, willing if not eager. No hazard pay from /him/. Cheapskate.

"Eh? Grudge? I din d'enthin' t'earn it o'er 'en be wrong place, wrong time, an' sorter set thin's in motion tha' MAY 'ave lost some thugs their boss." Swivel shrugs. Same old, same old. Okay, maybe not same old. She's used to mugging, not getting indirectly involved with gangs and the like. But what can you do? "Eh, less worried 'bout license 'en I used t'be. Jus' a good word from summun I kin trust more or less is 'nuff f'me these days. I kint a'ways afford licensed medics, yanno?" Athough.... hazard pay! "But dun worry 'bout return pay. I'll take yer tip 'bout medics as pay, an maybe the cheapest, tiniest donation y'kin make to make it 'ficially business an' not a favour. Yanno. Cover me aft."

"Wow, less worried about licenses and consorting with criminals and terrorists," Hot Rod teases. "Terrible, the things we're driven to by society." The directions to his suggested medic are easy to follow, at least, and after he's given them, he adds, "There's a really /good/ free clinic in the Dead End in Rodion but that's pretty far to go." As he talks he pays out the shanix for what might be expected for an in-neighborhood courier message: not the cheapest, tiniest donation, but neither is it the full cost to take a message out of the city. He splits the difference between pride and practicality (and a practically empty pocket).

Swivel perches her hands on her studded hips and cocks her head to the side. "Oy, wot's tha' s'posed t'mean? I 'ent turned m'nose up at crim'nals... I jus din wanner be oner 'em." Swivel says pointedly. "Spritz on the o'er 'and... welll..." She eases into a mirthful giggle. Swivel waves a hand in front of her face a few times and then looks off to the side, smiling. "Enway..." she says, turning her attention back to Hot Rod, "'En I 'eard about the com blackout I came back soon as I coo. I was kinner 'eld up in Kaon fer a bit. I'm spectin' a LOTTER more work, so's much as I'd like ta stick 'round an' chat, maybe get shot at by a few more enforcers, I's shanix to make." She receives the amount he is will to pay with a gracious smile. "Thanks. I'da 'cepted less, but thanks! Yer sweet. 'Ot 'eaded, but sweet."

"I've gotta be." Hot Rod taps his chest with an easy grin. "I've got an image to keep up, you know? Can't be all calm and practical and boring." The fact that he automatically associates calm and practical with boring might actually have more to do with his hot headedness than his paint job. "What're things like in Kaon? Or the rest of the world, for that matter. This communications blackout is kind of disorienting. I've been so focused on Nyon that I haven't even though about what's going on elsewhere. I didn't even know they were blaming me for it for hours after the towers first went down."

"Ah... so ya weren't b'ind the blackout?" Swivel asks. "Din think ya were, but, 'eh, ya never know," Swivel says with a shrug. "Loik I said I kint stay an' chat much. I'll jus' say Kaon's as much Decepticon territory as ever it's been. I'm sure ya got lots ter say 'bout down wither gov'ment and 'ow ya was framed.... but this femme is slightly in debt an' needs ta jump on this opportunity t'get a'ead." Swivel wiggles her fingers as a sort of cutsie wave at Hot Rod, turning to leave.

Hot Rod's face falls in dismay at Swivel's very first words, and he doesn't recover his poise even as she goes on. It's obvious that he takes it hard that she could even 'ya never know' doubt his innocence, and he manages no more than an, "Okay. I'll see you around," as she turns to leave. He watches her go, working through his dismay to something a little more stubborn and a lot more determined.

The location that Hot Rod has suggested for the meeting is just on the edge of the expanding circle of rebel influence within the Nyon dead zone. It's a nicer neighborhood, for a given value of nice, where nice is enforced not by the law but by local criminals protecting their own turf. Ah, Nyon.

Autobots, Enforcers, and police are equally unwelcome, so Hot Rod's relatively comfortable when he settles at a stool beneath the awning of a hole-in-the-wall energon shop, dispensing slightly watered down but otherwise clean fuel to the low and disposable caste laborers. He's seated with a good view of the streets, and out of the view of eyes above.

Before coming here, Acuity ran herself through a fair amount of grime and dust to hopefully blot/mute out her Autobot symbol. Not that her goal is to decieve Hot Rod, which would be silly given the contents of her message, but because it would do her no good to be stopped by someone else before she even reaches the supposed 'mastermind' of terrorism.

As such, Hot Rod will see a rather dirty tech-cycle pull up, the pale gold and red colors peeping through the grime here and there. Stopping in front of the shop, she doesn't transform immediately as she scans the area.

There are more weapons in the area than there should be, including the weapons built in to Hot Rod's frame, but the only surveillance is that of the state. Given that the number of weapons that /should/ be in the area is /zero/, as these are after all low caste and disposable bots, it's hardly evidence that Hot Rod's not alone. It's just an indication of how far Nyon has fallen from peace. Hot Rod gives her a glance, but doesn't immediately identify her as Acuity. He just continues eye the street -- her, as much as those around her.

Well, he's not entirely alone, but it's hard to be completely by oneself in a city. Still, Acuity notes where people are and what they look like before she finally transforms. Quite likely, it will not be exactly what Hot Rod was expecting, but considering his dealings with Whirl in the past, her appearances will probably not be as startling as it is to some individuals. He may note that the Autobot symbol is lacking in her root mode.

Hot Rod just shifts over to the side so that she can place an order for a drink if she wants it, and continues keeping an eye out for ... her. Because how is he supposed to know!! He nods an absent greeting, but is otherwise distracted keeping an eye out.

Acuity approaches. She certainly doesn't look like a cop; her 'face' and 'hands' make her look like the exact opposite. Then again, if they can accept that crazy Whirl fellow, it might not be such a stretch. Sitting down beside Hot Rod, she inclines her expressionless face. There is no reason to ask if he /is/ Hot Rod; the mech is hard to confuse for anyone else. "I am surprised you agreed to meet with me," she says softly. "I am Acuity."

It couldn't be more obvious that she is the last thing Hot Rod was expecting. He glances at her once, twice and gives her a once over in obvious disbelief that lingers on her hands before coming at last to her face. "I'm -- surprised," he says, period, end of the sentence. "Also, curious. Hot Rod," he introduces himself, however obvious it may be.

"I have that effect on people," Acuity notes dryly. "It is a long story." She gives a half shrug and turns slightly to view the proprietor. "And you are...comfortable...speaking in here?" she asks Hot Rod, obviously referring to the presence of another person.

"Yep." Hot Rod makes a show of nonchalance: wiggling in his seat, getting comfortable. He doesn't look easily displaced. And truth be told, the other person isn't paying any attention to them at all except to see if Acuity will be ordering a drink. Then it's back to cleaning, and they are ignored. "You?"

Acuity holds up her claws. She doesn't order a drink; drinking like this isn't easy due to the whole 'no mouth' issue. She shakes her head and simply states, "No thank you." Then her attention is back on Hot Rod. "You are either extremely sure of yourself or the reports about you have been grossly exaggerated," she observes.

Hot Rod grins. He certainly /looks/ extremely sure of himself. "Why not both?" He gives her a once-over glance, searching for but not finding the Autobot insignia. "Exaggerated probably only just /starts/ to describe whatever reports you get, anyway. No lies like Autobot lies."

"Not even all Autobots," Acuity says with another shrug. "But, the way the world really /is/ and the way we are taught it is are two different matters. Some of us don't realize we /are/ lying." She looks down at her claws for a moment, then back to Hot Rod. "I wish to speak to you about the agent that you have with you, Arsenal. If she chose to go with you, that is her business although it sets her at odds with the law, but if she is there against her will, I wish to negotiate her release," she says, finally getting to the point of all this.

Blank disbelief gives way to a flash of hot indignation. "/Against her will/? How dare--!" Hot Rod half rises from his seat before sitting back down, hard. "I'm not holding her /against her will/," he says, low and intense. "I'm not one of /you/. She's free to make her own decisions, her own choices. Maybe she just believes it's more important to do what's /just/ than what's /lawful/. But, you know, if you think I'm capable of doing that, why bother to believe me?"

"Why bother?" Acuity asks. "I bother because I only know the reports /we/ have. I bother because I know that sometimes we spin our reports to show ourselves in the best light." She waves a claw impatiently. "Do you think they would easily admit that one of their own turned against them? No, 'obviously' it was a plot, or abduction, or whatnot." That single optic stares at him; good thing he's used to Whirl or it just might be intimidating. "Turn it around. If we are as bad as /you/ think, why bother meeting with me at all?" she challenges.

"She made a statement!" Hot Rod bangs his fist on the counter and says, "How easy /is/ it to discount what you hear because it's not what you want to hear?" He sits back and folds his arms. He steams. "The Autobots /are/ bad. I'm meeting with you because in my experience, the law will ask nicely once, and start shooting bystanders second, until they get what they want. Sometimes they skip the first step. Best to encourage it when they actually try."

Acuity nods her head slowly as she listens. "Now, let's say you actually were an incredibly devious terrorist mastermind. Such a person could easily wring a statement from someone by various means. However, you don't strike me as devious. Terrorist, yes, but devious..." she shakes her head. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't have any guns with me at the moment." She snaps her claws a few times. "Haven't quite figured out how to handle them with these."

"/Terrorist/. Because the truth is /that/ terrifying." Hot Rod's anger is an open thing, as vivid and lively as the false flames he wears painted across his chest. "I'm not the one taking down communication towers to panic civilians. I'm not the one harvesting sparks from the helpless. I'm not the one--." He breaks off before he can go on, settling himself with some effort. "They're feeding you a load of scrap. Arsenal is with me by choice." And as for her claws, well -- he's been around Whirl enough that her empurata is not something he pays much attention to, even in terms of her difficult with weapons.

"I'm stating it simply from a definition point of view. You /are/ doing things against the law in a particular fashion, so yes, you /are/ a terrorist. Probably not the most terrifying terrorist, and you may even be somewhat justified in your actions." Idly Acuity taps a claw against her thigh. "But I will take you at your word that she is there by choice. However, in the case that you were such a person that could hold her against her will, I felt it was prudent for someone to seek her release that was NOT a member of the NPD." She tilts her head to the side. "And, until I had seen you for myself, I could hardly know what to believe."

Hot Rod says, "No." He flattens his hands and braces to stand. "I reject that. The Senate are the terrorists. Intimidation and violence are their tools, not mine. Criminal, yes, I'll accept -- I'll even take that on gladly given the staggering injustices of our legal system. But I won't have my people be called terrorists." Something joked about with friends is very different from the mouth of an Autobot.

Acuity hmmms. "Perhaps my definition is flawed then: political, ideological or religious violence by non-state actors, often including unlawful violence?" She leans back slightly as Hot Rod seems ready to stand. "You are not entirely wrong in your...motivations. The system is flawed. However, the moment you start disregarding it entirely and fighting it is the moment you lose any hope of being listened to. Aggressive action against the State simply makes them dig in their heels harder to suppress people and ideas that are a threat." There's a brief pause. "You remind me of someone," she says, which isn't entirely sequitor to her previous words.

"Oh? Of who?" Hot Rod asks, clearly expecting an answer like 'A NO-GOOD BAD TERRORIST'. He goes on to say, "The only /violence/ that we engage in is /self-defense/." His words are fiery, filled with the heat of conviction. True or not, he believes it. "We are not the aggressors. We are defending our lives -- our /selves/ -- against a system that's not content to simply kill us. Do you know what they do to people who dissent, who question? They /wipe/ them. They /rewrite/ them. There was never any hope that they would listen."

"Yes, I have heard such things," Acuity says gravely. "But you also have to realize that the 'they' you speak of is not a single unit, a hive mind. There are many of us with many different views on things." Fitting the tips of her claws together, she goes on to answer the question. "I was arresting a young mech one time, he was quite similar to you in how he thought, and acted. His whole attitude. He told me quite frankly that I didn't know anything about what his life was like, what the lives of the lower castes and disposables were like." She pauses for a moment, optic staring straight at Hot Rod. "He was right."

Hot Rod scoffs, short and sharp. "Come on. I know that," he says, sounding aggravated she even raises the point. "But you're not making the decisions and you're not writing the laws." He meets her one-eyed gaze without flinching. "Yeah, he was."

"This," and she points to her one optic, "was not a punishment. It was my way of finding out how things really were from the other side. Which is another reason I was willing to hear your side. Because I know there is a reason people are angry, and it's not a small reason. However, I have faith in the idea of law, if not our specific laws. There is a need for such thing, and I will even go so far as to say I've served with some very good mechs and femmes." She sighs. "I can't say I know anything about the members of the NPD personally."

Considering Acuity a long moment, Hot Rod shakes his head. "No. It was your way of /pretending/ you understood," he says. "Slumming it. A little more /intense/ than most of the higher caste, but it's not the same. Whatever you tell yourself." His words are harsh, and his tone is scarcely gentler. "You got to go back. You don't have to worry about choosing between parts and fuel. You don't have to watch your friends declared redundant, then slowly starve offline because of the disregard of those who are supposed to care for them. You're not the one watching people boost themselves right out of their processors so that they don't feel their frame dying around them."

Acuity shakes her head. "It was to observe, not to feel it for myself," she clarifies. "As for going back, perhaps, but my face and hands will not be restored; they were destroyed." Pause. "In a dissident attack." She waves a claw. "Those things you described, they are what I saw. What I learned. And don't strain yourself trying to tell me it's not the same; I never pretended it was. And I've already been told by an actual Empurata about how my 'undercover' idea was a slap in the face to the real suffers." She would frown if she could. "But I was rash; I didn't think it fully through." Sound familiar, Hot Rod?

A little. Hot Rod loses the edge of his moral outrage when Acuity undercuts it by granting that it's not the same. He sort of sputters to a pause and then just goes, "Well. Fine."

"As I said, it was the only way I could think of to really go by unnoticed. Or, rather, when I was noticed it was not as a cop, or middle caste. That is the point of a disguise, is it not?" Acuity gives Hot Rod a long look. "Maybe you've never felt the need to disguise yourself." After all, he agreed pretty readily to see her. "What the government does, it's wrong, but I don't have to tell you that. However, two wrongs do not make a right. You can't fix what is wrong by doing wrong yourself. Keep that in mind as you're fighting." She stands up, as though to leave, but she watches the mech to see if he's going to make any move to stop her.

Stop her? After all his outrage at the very /idea/ he might be holding someone against their will? Of course not. Hot Rod looks after her, but makes no move to stop her. With absolute conviction, he says, "I'm /not/ wrong."

"Your ideas might not be, and you might think everything you've done so far is right, but at some point, you will be tempted to do something very wrong. Be on guard." That's the last thing Acuity has to say before she walks out the door. Perhaps being here wasn't strictly following procedure, but at least her suspicions have been confirmed. The question remains: what shall she do with them.