| abstract
| - Arena - Tarn The gladiator tradition has been long banned in Tarn, and while this once impressive arena is occasionally used for events, it has long fallen into disuse. It's uncomfortable being in an area so big that seems so empty. At the center of the arena, a large statue of Optimus Prime was erected where a statue of Megatron once stood, as a reminder to Tarn that their loyalties are no longer predominantly purple. Locals suggest that the arena is haunted by the ghosts of the first Decepticons killed in Megatron's revolution. Of course, those are just foolish stories. Or are they? Change is not only an inherit aspect to being a Cybertronian - it's an expectation. The times when stagnation has plagued them it lead to come of their darkest hours, and yet the same can be said when change came upon them, violently fast. This place it is a testiment to both which is exactly why Chromia wanted to come here. It is after hours, well after, and this place should be mostly vacant which suits Chromia just fine for her purposes. She wants to reflect in relative solitude. She's thrown herself into the efforts in Tarn, so much so that it has distracted her from her own more personal desires in the area. In her experience it's best to know who you are fighting for to have that why, to try and put yourself in their tires, to envision the roads that must have been taken and what can lie ahead. She's about to go political, in a sense at least, and approach the governor of Tarn but before that she wants to be sure of those he's meant to represent. IN the morning she'll talk to locals, see what they think, but for tonight she wants to try and put herself into the mindset of a Tarnian. Before it was Defcon and now it is Trailbreaker that she is destined to work with. The first she looked forward to, respected, and the second... she's unsure of. That's why she asked him to meet her here. Chromia sits in the area facing the pits below, her eyes ont he statue. When she hears another bot approach she assumes it's who she asked to be here. "You know," she nods her chin towards the statue, "I wonder if that only makes things worse here." Blast Off finds himself back in Tarn... his pet project, as it were. Pet project that has become become quite the monumental task. With giant potential rewards- and rather dire punishments promised for failure. But this is *Blast Off*... he's far too excellent for anything like *failure* anyway. The first time he set foot here he knew this would be... something important. The people of Tarn, disgruntled, oppressed, clinging to imagined glory days of Megatron and unhappy with their current lot in life. As a former Renegade Decepticon, he *knows* a place ripe for rebellion when he spots it. And once again, he slips through a city street, spying on the place, wearing his customary scarf to hide the Decepticon badge on his chest. Things are quiet, and he slips through a plaze with... oh, how TACKY. He stops to look up at the statue in some disgust. You've got to be kidding. ESPECIALLY in a place like Tarn, that's just... ugh. Suddenly, someone asks him a question, and he spins his head around to look. He stares at Chromia in surprise. "I... Well, of course it does. it's postively TACKY." Wait, he shouldn't have spoken at all. But... c'mon. TAAACKY. It was his intention to meet Chromia here and being the very definition of punctual and reliability, Trailbreaker made a point of arriving early. When he bored of studying the blast marks from his battle (or lack therof) with Bonecrusher a few days prior, the Autobot Defensive Strategist had taken to the stands. Here in his solitude, Trailbreaker was allowed to drop the charade. Charade isn't quite the right word for it, in his core he was the enthusiastic attention giving Autobot he's been made out to be for millions of years. Is a Cybertronian allowed only one facet? Is a person more than a personna? Is a living being more complex than a summarized personality? These are the questions that plague Trailbreaker, alone in his solitude.. attempting to go over defensive tactics for the Govenor of Tarn's protection. But alone, he cannot help but let his mind wander into the great black abyss.. the one question that haunts him during recharges. Is he a one-trick pony, in personality and deed? While Trailbreaker is on high in the stands, pontificating, the exchange between Chromia and Blast Off goes unnoticed. "I was thinking more... inappropritate," Chromia grumbles. Truth is, she's glad that someone was there to answer her question, that she wasn't just talking to herself. Again. No, this time there's someone she can talk to, or at least maybe. She's also somewhat itching to pick a fight with Trailbreaker after their hushed 'discussion' before. She hasn't forgotten it and still has a lot to get off her breastplate in regards to Rodimus Prime, and who better to dish that out on the one Bot well equipped to take it? "These are bots that looked to revolt against those that they saw lording over them, that fought back. It might of been in 'secret' at first with the pits, this arena," she gestures to the space below her. "But these are the bots that lifted Megatron on their shoulders, that helped to forge him into the sword he needed to become," she frowns as she focuses on that statue of Orion once again. She misses the bot he used to be before he became the Prime. "With that up it's like we're forcing them to remember what that came from. It's dangerous," she decides with a heavy frown. Which is about the exact same moment it sinks in that it *wasn't* Trailbreaker that responded to her. Chromia is on her feet and spins, a hand going to her hip where the compartment that houses her pistol is. Who did sh-... "Combaticon," she grumbles. Instinctively she looks around for the other four of them. Ambush? Where's Trailbreaker? She keeps one hand at her hip, weapon undrawn for now. Prowl warned her not to escalate things, to not force combat unless it was absolutely necessary. The last thing the Autobots need now is to allow the rebels to right. Her other hand is held out, to suggest 'stop right there'. He *did* kind of agree with her, didn't he? Maybe she can work with that. "Just here for the sites?" She's keenly interested in what this Con's intentions are. Blast Off is frozen for a moment, expecting an attack any time himself. Then his violet optics scan the plaza... but if he doesn't see Trailbreaker at the moment. Then, slowly, it registers that she's still talking... and she actually kind of makes sense. His gaze returns to her once more and he simply stares. "Well... precisely. It rubs salt in a wound and shows lack of foresight... as do so many things here, but Autofools are arrogant that way." His optic ridge raises as he continues to look at her. "...Usually." Then it becomes apparent she's realized who she's talking to, and she is wise to become cautious. But the Combaticon is alone, and disinclined to start a fight... especially in the middle of Autobot territory. So his trigger finger twitches, but he keeps his weapon in subspace as well.... but he's ready to bring it out in an instant. He mostly remains where he is, actually stepping backwards to gain a little distance. "...More or less. Perhaps I simply wish to see the "birthplace" of Megatron? Since this *is* that spot, why deny Decepticons that glimpse of their... heritage?" Of course, the Combaticons tried to *assassinate* Megatron twice, but... hey, details, details. More than a mech, more than a mask, more than a moniker. Trailbreaker is more than any one of these things, he is failure.. sorrow.. contemplation.. patience.. kindness.. anger. The last of which emotion floods over his circuits like melted butter over a sizzling skillet, frying and popping with such tenacity and violence. A Decepticon, here.. now? In the shadow of Orion Pax, Optimus Prime? Such wanton disregard to the sanctity of the arena. There might not be any rhyme or reason on the outside surface, why Trailbreaker wasn't as angered seeing Bonecrusher here before. Why that trespassing didn't have the same reaction. Underneath the veneer though.. Did Bonecrusher not know better? Was Blast Off to be held at a higher expectation, being of much much much larger intelligence? No, it was much much much simpler than that. Last time, Trailbreaker was in a good mood. This time, he clearly is not. Descending down the stands quickly, the Autobot makes short time across the distance to both Chromia and Blast Off. With palm held out, orange forcefield glow present in it, Trailbreaker nods to the Femme and regards the Combaticon with a disdainful scowl. "Gimme one reason, Decepticon." Chromia definitely doesn't want this to become a 'thing' if she can avoid it. Prowl told her not to plus she doesn't like the idea of taking on Bruticus if she can avoid it. If Blast Off anted to harm her, he could have walked up to her and easily shot her in the back - which is what has her twitchy more than anything else. She let her guard down, a lot. She is better than that. So, she still looks around for the other Combaticons, just in case, even as she eases her hip-hand away so that she shows it as empty as well. "I'm expecting someone," she reveals. Shares? She doesn't want Blast Off ... well, blasting off, jumping when Trailbreaker gets here. Where the scrap is he?? "Megatronus, you mean." Chromia considers for a moment. Blast Off no doubt remembers the days before the Great Wars as well, doesn't he? "Mega*tron* came after, when he set his sights beyond the pits. When he let greed and ambition get in the way of what he *could* of accomplished," she says as she narrows her eyes as she focuses on Blast Off. She can't help herself from being honest, or from sharing that before he went too far that... well, maybe Megatron had something worth saying. Oh, THERE he is! Chromia turns to look at Trailbraker as he barges in. Her hands-up gesture turns to him instead now. "Remember what Prowl said," she states. It was more of a command from Prowl, but not like Blast Off needs to know that. Hopefully turning on her back to a Combaticon will send the right message to Blast Off - and not get her shot. "There won't be a need for that," right? Blast Off listens as Chromia continues to speak, retorting, "Yes, of course... Megatronus. I remember. And Megatron was not 8so* different." Her acknowledgement of Megatron's ...merits?... is noted, and once again the Combaticon actually finds himself agreeing with her... the Combaticons thought so too, thus their revolt later on. It is also a good thing she warns him about expecting someone, because when Trailbreaker suddenly rushes down the shuttle does indeed almost reach for his weapon once more. He tenses, jumping back again, and his hand hovers in a half-clasped position, fingers twitching, torn between wanting to start shooting and realizing that wouldn't be that wise... not here facing two Autobots now, in an Autobot-controlled city. He probably should just fly away- his cover's been blown. Yet Trailbreaker's sudden, angry entrance forces the Combaticon to face him and keep a wary optic on the 'Bot. He stands there, glaring, tense, just as twitchy and willing to fight at Trailbreaker... but again. Not wise. "One reason? Note that *I* am not the aggressor here, Autobot. I was merely walking around a city that my entire *faction* was conceived in. And yet..." He looks up at the statue of Prime. "Everywhere I go, that history is obliterated." He looks at the two Autobots once more and asks, slightly smug, "And those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.... surely even the /Autobots/ do not want /that/?" "Your history is built upon the act of obliteration, Combaticon." A lone, slim mech, standing under the shadow of Optimus Prime. "If only that history could be wiped away." Rusted older eyes and a frowning mouth, accented by a long metal beard. The mech leans on a cane, though the glow of his Autobrand can be seen reflecting against the ground from the stark bend in his back. Lightsinger. "For all your bravado, Blast Off, you live by my good graces: my eyes watched you arrive, and my will keeps you functional while you walk these streets. Tarn is mine to protect." He taps the ground with his cane. Eyes everywhere? A boast? The truth? A bit of both? What Prowl said? What did Prowl say, Trailbreaker.. breaks off his line of thought, pouring over their mission to save the Govenor. Prowl being the most anal retentive Autobot this side of Ultra Magnus, and that's SAYING something, he -probably- mentioned something about stemming hostilities with the Decepticons and thus the Tarn population. The thought itself is enough to make the black hand embued with orange forcefield glow waver momentarily.. then holds fast. What's gotten into Trailbreaker tonight? It's certainly not the bit of Nightmare Fuel he ingested while waiting. Certainly not. The stand-off, as it were, comes to a close as Trailbreaker closes the palm and extinguishes the building force bubble. "Aggressor?" he says aloud, strapping on his trademarked grin. "Ha, you're the one getting all jumpy against a DEFENSIVE measure Blast Off." Trailbreaker tries to laugh off the sudden rush to action. "If you learned a blasted thing about history, you'd know turnin' up here could be dangerous to your health." It's not like he could create a tiny forcefield in the Combaticon's brain module, tightening, squeezing, collapsing his higher functions with but a thought. The insides of the fist glow orange ever so faintly, then vanish. Could he? "A *movement* started here maybe," Chromia answers to Blast Off and she looks back to him. She's going to trust the vibe she's getting from Trailbreaker now, that he's cooled off some. Honestly, she's not sure what to make of *that* since all she's ever heard has been that he's a fairly... simple... bot. "Before that was twisted into the Decpticon cause. There was a message of need, something we could all share." Right? She finds it a little hard to believe that she is attempting to find some common ground with a Con, but then Blast Off is talking with her and not shooting at her. That means something to Chromia. "When it went from a cry for change to one of conquest that's when it lost me, a lot of others, and I'd argue even yourselves. It's a vicious cycle that the Cons have embraced, isn't it?" The Combaticons were locked up, reduced to just personality chips right? By the Cons themselves. She does look back to Trailbreaker. "Two on one. Maybe he has a right to be jumpy," she acknowledges. "If he's this deep into Autobot terriroty he has to have a reason. Or he's as boltheaded as a Constructicon," she jibs. Who knows, maybe bravado will cause Blast Off to mouth off as to why he's here. Chromia looks down to the statue as she does find herself agreeing with Blast Off, at least to a degree. "It was always the COns that put up statues like that as signs of victory, of conquest," she uses that word again. "For us Bots, they are signs of remembrance. I can see how that could be confusing to those here in Tarn," those more apt to be sympathetic to the Cons. That's also where Lightsinger appears! Instinctively she moves to put herself between Blast Off and the governor and tries to tell herself to not mention who he is. "Him I wasn't expecting," she shares for all involved, Trailbreaker included. Blast Off blinks, and turns to look over at an unfamiliar voice. Optics flicker in surprise. "Lightsinger, correct?" He asks, trying not to let any of that surprise show through. He leans back slightly, appraising the old mech carefully. "Quite a claim. You've let me enter many a time, then, it seems. Tarn is yours to protect? Doesn't it belong to everyone?" Blast Off gets distratced by trailbreaker, and he looks over at the Autobot with a touch of annoyance. Isn't this, like, some background character or something? The Combaticon starts to turn his head, waving a hand dismissively... when Trailbreaker starts up with more of the forcefield effects. And just the way he does it, and says it, causes the shuttleformer to pause and look back at him, trying to figure out what he means. "What. Don't tell me *you're* going to do something..." Then he turns to Chromia. And listens. Blast Off *isn't* a "shoot first, think later" mech, after all. Plus, he's now surrounded by *three* potential hostiles. A wing elevon twitches at the mention of a vicious cycle... it is. Blast Off and the other Combaticons know this all too well. He glances away, getting a bit uncomfortable before he looks back to the femme again. "Well... if the Decepticons might have... occasionally gone too *hard*... the Autofools remain too *soft*. And ultimately that softness could leave Cybertron vulnerable to our enemies. It's a cold, hard galaxy out there- as a space shuttle, I should know." He straightens up, finishing with, "I simply wanted to ...look around. This city has become quite the "place to be" lately." He watches Chromia move to protect Lightsinger but says nothing otherwise. Lightsinger waves a dismissive hand at Blast Off. "Belong to everyone?" He chuckles, which sounds something like a two pack a day smoker choking. "For such a well spoken mech, you're an idiot." He waves the cane a little bit, chidingly. "An idiot being led by psychopaths. Megatron is dead, Combaticon. Any illusion of ideals he had died with him. Now. I suggest you leave my city. Sooner than later." Crossing his arms, in an attempt to look tougher than he comes off as.. and to hide the almost unconcious forcefield generator start-ups when angered, Trailbreaker merely smiles at Blast Off. "Do something? Mech, please." he laughs, slipping easily into the role of court jester. "That there is Chromia, one of Elita One's finest. The first and last person to beat Brawn in an arm wrestling match!" He doesn't give much notice to Lightsinger, until the old coot starts insulting and ordering Blast Off out of the city. "You heard him Decepticreep." Chromia finds some irony in the fact that she (and Trailbreaker) came here with the intention of guarding Lightsinger and yet he's the one boasting to (potentially?) protect them. Blast Off's turn though has Chromia wondering though. Maybe what she was saying... yet Lightsinger gives Blast Off a 'choice'. "This *is* Autobot territory now," she reminds. "We've lost territory to you before, no doubt will again. It'd be a lot simplier if we could all share, right? Til all can be enjoyed by everyone," she quips. Sometimes she can't help herself. Trailbreaker's boasting on her behalf only helps! "You could always trade embelms if you wanted to stay," she tries as a 'softer approach' to her current partner's. Chromia -> Good Cop Trailbreaker -> Bad Cop Blast Off stiffens at being called an "idiot", and there's a subtle twitch of his trigger finger once more. But there's not much he can do. Not without causing a huge stir.. not only among the Autobots, but possibly the populace of Tarn itself. Hwever... the time may come, soon enough. But Lightsinger's declaration is certainly rather... interesting. So much for any illusion of democracy here. "I...see." Interesting indeed. Trailbreaker gets a look that falters between snooty and wary, until the mention of Chromia...and she beat WHO? The Combaticon blinks and turns to look at her with just a touch of surprise. But... she's right, this IS Autobot territory right now, and... it would be wise to leave. "Share." He sounds slightly disbelieving, then continues more normally, "Perhaps. One day. I do not expect that anytime soon, however. For now- there are only winners... and losers." At the mention of "trading emblems" he gives her a *are you kidding* look, then waves a hand. "Then- it is time for me to go. It *hasn't* been fun. But this isn't over." With that, he transforms and instantly rockets off into the sky, retreating in a brown and purple flash. Lightsinger spits as the Combaticon takes off. "I'm sure he was recording, or whatever it is those sad sacks of servos do to try and twist perceptions, but it doesn't matter. Not in Tarn." He points his cane at Prime. "They know who runs the show here. Every purple badged last one of them." Finally, the Governor sizes the two Autobots up. "And they give me one of Elita's and an Ark Original for security. So good of Rodimus to finally notice that we were here, on the frontlines of the war." Chromia watches Blast Off take off, at least for a moment. It was the only choice left for him to take really, still she finds herself thinking about what he said. Well, some of what he said. As Lightsinger she turns to face him and even walk down towards him. She does nothing to mask her distaste as she approaches. The fact that he glorifies those that *left* on the Ark has her rolling her eyes. Still, he seems to value Elita One so he's got some wisdom. "Prowl sent us," she clarifies. Rodimus didn't have a damned thing to do with her being here. "Chromia," she greets. Trailbreaker can introduce himself. "I've met and worked with Fray, an officer in the police force here. He was most concerned with your safety when I told him of the threat against you. You seem... likely to be unconcerned. You're not going to be trouble, are you? Get in the way of us keeping you functional?" A grin a mile wide bursts across his facial features when Lightsinger says 'Ark Original', Trailbreaker almost reaches out to offer an autograph. Then the sarcasm and dry wit hits him, like a pail of ice water in the face. It hits him right in the feels. His grin turns into a neutral expression, a very small dash of sad before returning to neutral again. Right in the feels. "Trailbreaker, as you can see sir." he replies, arms still crossed over his chest.. only turning his body to face the Governor. Lightsinger gives Chromia a lookover. "Prowl, eh? The frontline of the war didn't rate a Prime?" As for glorifying anything, it's not hard to read that Lightsinger is a sarcastic old asshole. "And I know who you both are," he growls, grinding his cane into the ground, "though I doubt you'd bother to do me the courtesy if you hadn't been ordered to do so, eh? Come down from your tower in Iacon. Eh? And Fray worries too much. Every day is a threat to your life in this city. Tarn will eat you alive, if you let it. Though I'm sure you know all about, since Prowl put boots on the ground, what, a week ago? After Prime suddenly got concerned about the place?" He straightens a bit, and points his cane at Chromia. "Keep me functional. Pfft. As if there were a secret door around here that Decepticons are just going to start pouring out of." Lightsinger begins to walk away, and raps at Trailbreaker once with his cane. "As I can see, indeed! Perhaps if the riots get worse, I'll rate a Cliffjumper!" Trailbreaker lifts a finger when Lightsinger continues to pour out the old craning, as if to object to each point in kind. "I.." broke off by more Govenor words and complaining about Iacon, "Well.." is interrupted by the every day is a struggle idiom, "We.." is ground to a halt as Lightsinger blows off Chromia's offer for protection, "Thought.." At this point, Trailbreaker just gives up.. even in mid objection his words had grown increasingly more quiet as the interruptions escalated. By the time he's rasped with a cane and compared to a Cliffjumper, the verbal fight has strictly left him. Turning to Chromia, he shrugs. "Well, that went pretty well.. eh?" "The Prime's preferences on where he focuses is something I feel as though we can have a private discussion about," Chromia answers Lightsinger with a look back to Trailbreaker. See? She's not the only one. She looks back to Lightsinger. "We might have something in common to say there... but," she pauses as she can't realize she is saying this, "When it comes to the two, you *want* Prowl to be the one looking after you." She's defending him? Guess so. "Actually, 'sir'," she bites back, "If it wasn't for officer Fray I wouldn't be here, so if you want to thank someone for my involvement you can thank him. He cares for Tarn. Deep enough that it has me convinced I should too. That includes you." Now it's her turn to cross her arms. Role swap time, Breaker? "I've been on Cybertron as long as you." Well, almost? Maybe? "Iacon is a place I pass through, just as Tarn has been. I've fought on and for every corner of this planet." She stands back as Lightsinger goes. She considers and then speaks loud enough to be heard. "He's had to fight all of his life for this one patch of Cybertron and what has it given him? Scars. Wounds. Each one of them is earned." She takes a pause before she looks to Trailbreaker, her eyes ... sad? The Arkians... She shakes her head. "There are those on Cybertron that don't belong to either side and thus perhaps belong here more than you or me. We need to remember that." She then reaches out to grab his arm as she moves to follow. "Even if he won't admit it, he wants us here, because the longer he stays functional the more he can do for those he cares about." She looks to Trailbreaker as she all but means to haul him away with her in Lightsinger's wake, "Besides, we have a job to do. Best we get to it, wanted or not."
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