A Cleaning Crew Walks Into a Bar And...

-A fight a night might be a motto for this place, but mostly it is an exaggeration. THat isn't to say that tempers did not run hot in this seedy bar, but that was then. Currently, the bar is in a post brawl lull where troublemakers have huffed and left, if concsious, and the staff are picking up broken items and hammering a table back into a roughly flat surface again, since replacing it is out of the question. Bolted down does not make it impervious. Perhaps if the bar were not so wont for money, they'd have closed the place off while they cleaned the spilt energon and other fluids from the furniture, floor, and walls. As it is, though, so long as there are customers content to stay put despite the danger, they are willing to stay open.

       One such customer is Detour. He had witnessed the brawl and had done nothing to get involved, occasionally sidestepping or ducking to avoid bringing harm to himself. Presently he is wiping something off of his arm, a half finished low grade sitting on a table in front of him. When finished, more or less, he stands up, picks up his drink, and steps over a mech presently curled up on the floor, sparking and crackling from an injury. He pays this no mind, but does shuffle his feet a bit just in case. He sets the unfinished drink on the counter and tosses the rag to the mech at the bar. "This isn't fit for a disposable, let alone a well paying customer. I know you have some /untampered/ low grade, not this watered down slag."

-With the current state of the bar -- what, with broken furniture and gory messes still about -- it's probably not the biggest surprise that the bar crowd is a little thinner than usual. Heck, some of the regulars might be too busy nursing wounds to GET drunk. It's probably for the best, then, that a group of disposables chose this day to come to the bar.

There's at least a dozen of them. Little disposables; some sort of cleaning crew, by the scrubbers on their arms. Which probably begs a whole bunch of questions. The first of which is: Why are disposables even there? Do they even have the money to GET drunk?

In the head of the pack, a little more shy than the rest, is one disposable who seems to be the focus of revelry from the rest. Lots of patting of his shoulders and a couple of cheers. This little bot -- YX-939 to those that may know -- is... Heading for the bar! DUN DUN DUUN.

-Panacea takes her work quite seriously, but even she needs to get out now and then. Since she stays in Kaon this bar is really the closest place th sit and relax, though often times she doesn't find it very relaxing given the propensity for violence here. Still, it doesn't do to get too homebound. People can go /crazy/ that way, and she isn't at all crazy. Nope. Stepping in just behind the little band of cleaning mechs she permits herself a little smile as they rally around a central figure. At least they seem to be having a good time so far.

Casually she walks up to the bar just in time to hear the last five words of Detour's complaint to the barmech. She flicks a glance over him and offers a nod of greeting since he's right there. But she waits for the 'tender to reply to him before she makes an order herself.

-The mech behind the bar was fixing Detour with something of a nasty expression before taking the discarded drink away and then bending down behind the counter. Detour takes this opportunity to glance about. He sees the group of cleaners enter through the front door, which causes the squinty mech to wear an expression of bemusement. He almost doesn't catch the femme nodding to him, and belatedly gives her a half- nod in acknowledgement. He then turns around and leans over the counter. "Hey! If you can afford that big and that prompt of a cleaning crew, you can afford to serve us better than liquid rust with a hint of energon!"

       "What're you--" the Bartender stands up with a bottle of unopened low grade in his hand and just stares at the disposables who are heading to the bar. "I didn't call for any clean up! HEY! Tell your supervisor I ain't paying for your services, especially if you go marching around where everyone can see you! We DO have a back door for you..." The bar tender trails off as he realises they might not be here to clean. He is in a stupor for a moment.

       During this stupor Detour reaches across the bar and grabs the bottle from the bar tender's hand, opens it, and takes a swig. "Better."

-At the yelling, YX-939 stops to a halt, a startled look on his face. The rest of his cohorts are a little slower in their reaction, but don't seem eager to rush ahead of their friend, either.

After a few seconds, 939 slowly, hesitantly, gets to the front of the bar. "W-we're not here to clean. We're not on a job." He does, however, hold up a cred card; not a thing disposables are supposed to have, really. If someone squints, they might be able to make out an Enforcer logo on it. "I'd like to buy a... A 'round' right? That's what it's called? For my friends." A vague gesture to the rest of his cleaning buddies.

-Panacea watches with mild amusement as the cleaning crew is mentioned, noticed, and yelled at. With interest she sees them answer back. "Well, come on up here then," she says, patting the seat on the other side of her. Whether or not they should have the card is not her concern.

Then she looks back at Detour for a few moments. Finally she says to the bartender, "Can I have one of what he's having please?"

-YX might have been having a very good cycle, but unfortunately for him, a very dreaded -someone- walks into the bar not long after he does. Yep, it's Blurr, the security bot at the Forge who had murdered poor little 452. But he's so rich, why's he slumming it? Perhaps he's looking for someone specific, or some-thing- specific. Or maybe he's just hoping to eavesdrop some useful information in Kaon.

No one pays attention to him here, likely because they figure someone like him would -never- come to Kaon of all places, and have just assume he's just some knock-off. It's just as well, however, he isn't looking to draw too much attention at the moment.

And ah, YX probably shouldn't be brandishing a thing like that around these parts! Several rough-looking mechs glance his way, muttering at the sight of the money. Taking notice of this, the racer is suddenly standing at the bar, next to Panacea and YX-939 as he orders a round. "You'd better not flash that in public around here," he says in a low voice.

-"Only in Kaon," Detour mutters quietly as he shakes his head at the idea of disposables coming in to purchase a drink. He then takes another drink, seeming to tolerate it better than what he was previously served.

       The bartender looks at Panacea and then lookls at Detour, and then looks at his empty hand. He shoots an annoyed stare at Detour, but acquiesces Panacea's order. After all, she's a medic. She could probably SMELL the crap he fills the drinks with to make them stretch. Or something. He quickly grabs another bottle, grumbling, and hands Panacea a glass and the bottle. While doing so, his optics are transfixed on the little disposables as a card is flashed. "Let me see that!" the mech demands, leaning over the counter and putting out his hand adamantly. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care about Blurr near materialising next to Panacea.

       Detour notices though. He leans back slightly in order to look beyond Panacea and raises his optic ridges at Blurr. He then leans forward, doing the same to get a better look around the obstructing femme. Darn those femmes. Always in the way.

-That voice causes YX-939 to jump in alarm. Somehow, he doesn't drop the cred card, but he DOES turn to stare at Blurr with wide, wide optics. If he heard the bartender, he shows no sign of it.

"What's wrong?" One of his other cleaning buddies asks.

"...That's the guy that killed 452."

"WHAT." "GET HIM!"

With that, the other dozen or so cleaning bot attempt to look VERY MENACING. Most of them look like they WANT to punch him. Look at them all GLARE at Blurr! ...But otherwise don't actually do anything.

-Panacea personally doesn't have anything to fear from Blurr...yet. Their interactions so far have been amicable, more or less, with the occassional side of 'weird'. Seeing him, Panacea nods her head and offers him a faint smile. "Good cycle," she greets, actually leaving his name off.

When she gets what she asks for she pays for it promptly and offers a tip that's the size of being nice enough to compensate for the 'inconvienience' of giving her the 'good' stuff, but not so much as to be 'flashy.' Glancing at Detour, she raises her optic ridges. "Only in Kaon...what?" she asks, perhaps a bit too sweetly.

Then the little crew get all fussy, and glarey, and murder-acusey. She blinks her optics a few times and smoothly steps down to stand between them and Blurr, though who she is protecting from whom isn't clear. Looking between the two parties, she puts her hands on her hips and demands, "What's all this about?"

-Blurr doesn't cringe away from them, because, well...he doesn't really have anything to fear from cleaning bots. He just shrugs. "Hey, I was just trying to help." he replies innocuously. "This city isn't exactly what you'd call a friendly place, a lot of desperate mechs out there are looking for an easy pile of shanix."

      He turns to Panacea and offers her a smile. "Hey Pan." As a medic, she might notice that he looks...duller in color, as if someone had mixed some grey into his paint job recently or something--one of the telltale signs of poisoning.

-The extra dose of sweetness, or in Detour's opinion, acridity, is not lost on him. He smiles pleasantly at her, although she can't really match her sweetness with his blocky, gruff features. "Only in Kaon is everyone treated like equals..." he then lowers his voice to a soft mutter, "...or thinks they are entitled to be." He takes another drink straight from the bottle, eyeing Panacea's tip, and he seems just ever so slightly interested in her more than he was a moment ago. He then looks at the angry group of cleaners, and does his best not to spit out his drink in laughter. Instead he makes a single snort, swallows to clear his mouth and raises his bottle. "And only int he Jump Joint would cleanes be looking to start a brawl."

       The bartender makes his payment disappear with amazing quickness that might almost rival Blurr's dexterity. Almost. It's his super power, and only works when it comes to pocketing his hard earned shanix. He also needs to deal with these disposables. He gives a side glance at one of the Decepticon logos on the wall and then back at the disposables. He reaches out to them again, looking impatient. "Your card?" he prompts with agitation.

-"Trying to help?! You shot him in the head!" A cleaning bot near the back calls out.

YX-939 winces a little, but look to Panacea. "We were on a job and he was hiding in the ceiling with the pipes and it's our job to fix and clean pipes so 452 went up and he came back dead...!" He still looks quite upset about it.

Oh, but then the bartender is asking for the card. 939 turns, looking surprised; maybe he forgot all about the drinking part of this trip. "O-oh. Oh. Right." The card is handed over; it has one of those 'Reward Program' signatures on it, the sort given to people that help Enforcers.

-Panacea peers a bit more closely at Blurr. "I think we might need to have a little talk soon," she says softly. She also flicks a glance to where she last saw him wounded, just in case he NEVER got that fixed.

"Well, times /are/ changing," she says to the shuttle-mech. She's usually pretty good at identifying what people turn into since she has to know the many facets of the Cybertronian body in her line of work, "whether we want them to or not." She's still smiling.

She watches warily as the little cleaning bot that could hands his card over to the bartender. Gently she puts a hand on the shoulder of the tiny mech. "I'm so sorry to hear that," she says very softly. "Is there any chance you were mistaken?" Not that she disbelieves him on principle; she just doesn't want to believe Blurr would have killed someone like that.

-"Huh?" Blurr peers curiously at Panacea. "Well I guess we can have it now." he shrugs. Oh how nice of Panacea to give the racer the benefit of the doubt....unfortunately it's misplaced. "What did you wnat to talk about?" He does his best to ignore the disposables.

-With haste, the bartender deftly pulls out a small machine that he waves the card in front of. A couple beeps later, his optic ridges rise in some surprise. He looks down at the card and then over to the disposables. He then glances at the group as if doing a headcount. He looks at the small monitor on the device again and finally shrugs. "It's legit. A round you say? For all of you?"

       "Hmph. Changing. Yes..." Detour grumbles and takes an exceptionally long drink, draining about half of the bottle. "And it all starts with Kaon." He raises his bottle in the air, trying hard not to smile. "To the revolution!" There is a cough following, and the mech lets out a laugh. It is not a light and pleasant laugh, but rather gravelly and, indeed, rife with mockery. He then looks down at the disposables. "Why up in a fuss about one of you being killed? You ought to be used to it, right? Disposables are just that, disposable. We'd rather recycle you than repair you." Detour takes another drink. "Not saying that's the way it ought to be, but that is how it is, and whinging to any bleedin' core of how you've been mistreated is more likely to get you ridiculed than pitied." He glances at Panacea. "In most cases." He sets down his nearly finished bottle and shrugs. "But why am I talking to you? If you were capable of understanding more than just how to do your job, you wouldn't BE disposable." He shoots Panacea another sharp glance.

-YX-939 somehow only looks more distressed at Panacea's question. "Not really, he held me hostage two days later."

"WHAT." That might have been the same cleaning bot from before, same tone and everything. "That was THE SAME GUY?!"

Oh, but that guy at the bar is talking now. Detour is given a few stares from the cleaning bots now. "We're not drones." One of the braver ones say.

YX-939 shifts in place, but says nothing. He does, however, glance at the bartender and at his precious cred card.

-Panacea gestures to the bar in general. "It might not be the best idea to talk about it here," she says, keeping her optics on him rather intently. It's not a look of admiration; it's the look of a concerned medic. Hopefully he'll know the difference.

Panacea keeps her hand on the little cleaner's shoulder for as long as it's allowed, but she's LOOKING at Detour for the moment. "But if people remain silent, nothing changes either. I'm no revolutionary; I'm content. But obviously enough folks aren't." She shrugs her shoulders. "As for me, I'd much rather repair anyone who still has half a spark left in them." Her tone is even, but there's an undercurrent of annoyance in it.

She looks back down at the cleaning crew and pats 939's shoulder again. "That sounds like quite an ordeal. But I'm pretty sure he's not here to harm you now," she says softly. She gives Blurr a direct look and says, rather pointedly, "Right?"

-The bartender busies himself with preparing a round for all of the little disposables. Rust filings mixed with oil for consistency, some other cheap chemicals, an addictive additive... and of course, topped with energon from his keg of lowest grade. He sets them all on the counter, giving a lopsided smile at the disposables. "Here you go. I'll just subtract that from your balance here - oh and look at that, you had just enough to cover all of the drinks. You are a very generous mech," the bartender says with a greasy grin.

       Detour chortles. "No, no you're not drones. I /know/ drones. You're just nothing special. You work hard to keep everything tidy so the high ups can focus on more important things with their superior minds." It's hard to tell if the mech is serious or being satirical. "When one drops, another is ready to take your place. Nothing special. Necessary en masse... but as individuals..." he shrugs his shoulders, "...you might as well be drones buzzing about the giant hive of civilisation." He waves a dismissive hand at Panacea. "Speaking up can also get you disappeared." He glances back at the disposables. "Just remember that. If that there mech did kill any of you, it wasn't a crime. I'd just... keep quiet about your grievances if I were you and hope it doesn't happen again."

-If YX-939 knows that the bartender is robbing him blind, he doesn't show it. Instead, the group of disposables grab at all the mugs in a polite, orderly fashion. A few of them glare at either Blurr, Detour or both while doing so.

But at least now they're all a little more quiet, though the earlier revelry appears to have been muted.

-Panacea glances over at the barmech will a 'really' sort of expression, but doesn't say anything. Again, not her place. Ripping someone off doesn't usually cause bodily harm. Mentally she's trying to tabulate how much those drinks will cost so she can ask the cleaner about it later. Then she looks back to Detour. "I suppose that's true too," she says. "Some would say it's worth the risk, others will keep their heads down. Neither way's really right or wrong from where I'm standing; it just shows what a person values or not."

Quietly she watches as the small crew get their drinks, though her expression is somewhat sad as they had seemed so happy when they first came in. That dying joy makes her feel a little restless.

-"And weighing risks against their rewards is a skill most lack. Especially around here. I'm sure you would see evidence of that on a regular basis, you being a medic," Detour remarks. He glances at the now disgruntled cleaners and shrugs his shoulders.

-Panacea nods her head at this. "That's true," she admits. "It doesn't mean I think it's right. Honestly, it's those who are better off that /should/ be speaking up for those who would be in too much danger for doing so." She shrugs. "But I'm sure we both agree that the world is far from ideal, yes?"

-Detour nods his head sullenly. "Far from it. Not like the old days..." Detour remarks. He finishes his bottle and pays for his drink. He glances over to where the disposables are, and he's not the only one occasionally staring at them and their antics. Idly he thinks to himself that the barkeep did them a favour by ripping them off; now there's nothing worth mugging them for.

-Panacea arches an optic ridge. "How 'old' are we talking about?" she inquires. She's not a very old femme, but she's not really fresh out of training either. Every so often she looks over at the 'disposables' as well, though her expression is far more amused.

-There is a low chuckle from Detour as he stands up. "That would be telling," he says with a wink to the femme. "I've got business to attend to," he adds to make it clear he has no intention of lingering any further.