| abstract
| - In the walled city of Brussels, the passage of time seems to have stopped a century or two ago; step-gabled guild houses, gothic churches, and antique shops from the 14th and 15th centuries line the cobbled streets. At the city's center is the Ilot Sacre, the Sacred Isle, the old merchant heart of Brussels with streets named for the merchandise they sell, such as the Rue des Bouchers (Butchers Street) and Rue des Marches aux Herbs (Herbs Market). Tourists, strollers, and artists crowd the streets, the sound of the French, Dutch, and English languages attesting to the varied heritage of the people. Yet Brussels is the seat of the European Union and of NATO, in direct contradiction to its quaint atmosphere. Contents: Cosmos Steeljaw Battlewagon Spike Witwicky Fire Chief's Lambourghini Aramasu Hikage Boomslang Obvious exits: North leads to North Sea. Northwest leads to United Kingdom. Southeast leads to Black Forest, Germany. Southwest leads to Paris, France. Up Porsche 959 is, at least, a European car in Europe, which means he doesn't look terribly out of place on this stake out. He waits in a parking garage near where the signal was traced. Muzzle, his Nebulan partner, sits in a nearby coffee shop. He is reading a local newspaper, borrowing Nightbeat's translation software, but he sits at a table near the window, and his gaze slips over the paper and outside more often than not. Nightbeat and Muzzle can be out of the garage and coffee shop and onto the road in less than a minute. That might not be fast enough. Fire Chief's Lambourghini lies in wait, watching out for anything unusual. Well, more unusual than a Fire Chief's vintage sports car. Battlewagon sits across three parking spaces in the garage, hanging back a bit from nightbeat. His green linear blasting gun swings to and fro idly, signalling his boredom and eagerness to see some action. He's been told that he's only here to provide muscle if it's needed, and that doesn't sound good to him at all. It sounds a lot like he might be lying in wait to watch the others do something cool while he twiddles his thumbs. Aramasu Hikage is waiting with Muzzle inside the coffee shop enjoying a french soda. Who knew ninjas had a sweet tooth? Hikage is dressed in black. Something trendy but not that would draw TOO much attention. Or maybe that's the plan, drawing attention upon himself so Muzzle can do whatever he wants. Spike Witwicky is, naturally, with the other two humanoids, though his beverage remains untouched. He does stir at it now and then, but he can't find the mindset to read anything. "Nice suit," he murmurs to Hikage, tone unreadable. The man known to the Autobots as El Cajon has been in the nearly empty leased office where he does his sinister 'work' for some time now, and according to Red Alert's meticulously calculated timetables, he should be ready to come out now for a well appointed dinner. Indeed, the time for him to do so passed by seven minutes ago, but here he is, leaving now. A dark man, perhaps Mediterranean, with light brown hair, a short clean beard shot through with streaks of grey, and a buff-colored suit in the Italian style. He glances up and down the street as he leaves the office and heads down the busy street on foot, disappearing almost immediately into pedestrian traffic. Red Alert is actually in robot mode in the parking garage, which means he really, badly sticks out like a sore thumb. However, this is the mode with the appropriate antennae for listening in on the radio. He might have found something to duck behind. Cosmos sits in a high orbit, at about 30 miles up, keeping everything well in view. Finding the detached position to be very boring. He would much rather be where the action is. For the time being, he keeps a look out for any signs of trouble, ready to alert the others at a moments notice. Red Alert frowns. He's not really in a position to /watch/ things as well as he'd like, but he can still hear and smell, and it sounds like the one they're after is getting away. They can't have that. He activates his radio, hacking into certain familiar frequencies using slightly outdated Decepticon encryption codes. The choice to go outdated is intentional, as those seem to be the ones that El Cajon uses. If he's got it right, a certain someone's cell phone should begin ringing. CHAT: You join channel . Steeljaw, a bright golden lion (with a few rusty blemishes) in the middle of Brussels, lays in wait just next to one of many chocolate shops. His sensors picking up ambient noise and a banquet of olefactory input. Aramasu Hikage smirks at Spike "I don't wear it often but besides style. It has some interesting properties. I know a good tailor in Panama who could make you one if you are interested." Hikage takes off his sunglasses and sets them on the table with them facing him...That way he can check the reflection to see what happens behind him. Muzzle wanted to go for some /adult/ coffee, given the location. But he's working a job, that just wouldn't be professional, even for him. So it's just black coffee, depressingly simple, given the joint he's at. He sips at it occassionally, looking out the window, almost looking bored, though that would be an incorrect assumptions. As stakeouts go, this is a pretty darn nice one - he's not in a ditch or a dumpster or freezing his keister off. He sets his money down, folds his newspaper under the arm, and briskly walks out the door of the coffee shop - where his Porsche is waiting for him, engine hot and doors open. El Cajon reaches into his coat and pulls out the phone; Red Alert might pick up the sound of one of Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina's lamentations for four voices as the distinctive ringtone. He recognizes it immediately, of course, but acts casual as he continues to walk with foot traffic. "What do you need?" he asks, in slightly accented English. Battlewagon secretly prays that he IS needed. He revs his engine just a bit and pulls forward to idle in a spot from which it'll be easy to burst for a dramatic entrance. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Spike answers, then stands, grabbing his vanilla chai as he follows Muzzle outside the shop and into the shotgun seat of the Porsche. Aramasu Hikage hears the signal for tailing to begin. He quickly downs what's left of his soda with a small grimace, picks up his Oakleys and walks out of the coffee shop in order to tail the suspect. For once Hikage swapped the sword for...a sword cane. Well it fits with the rest of the suit and gives a dignified look. He accelerates sometimes to gain on his target then stops to check out a shop and lets the prey gain some ground. Not trying to stay at the same distance all the time. Red Alert frowns. Well, of course he answered the phone. Why wouldn't he? But now Red Alert needs to keep the guy on the line. He sits, still hidden behind his BOX in a parking garage, and activates his radio once more, imitating Boomslang's voice over the airwaves. "I want to make another purchase." Granted, the voice is right, but it's possible the tone may be off. "So soon? But you said you had not even all the Christmas gifts that I sent you before the post closed," replies El Cajon, pausing at a newspaper stand to browse. "You are covetous, my friend." Sitting in his high orbit Cosmos tracks the target unseen. Following him both visualy and by the signal produced by the target's phone. He keeps the other Autobots apraised of the targets movements. "Ah, yes, but I had to do some unexpected gift giving of my own, you see," Red Alert replies, still emulating Boomslang's voice. "Christmas is, after all, the giving season, but I had to dip into my own reserves for it." Battlewagon pulls just a little bit closer to the street, though he knows that an orange and green battlewagon would definitely draw attention. He just wants to be able to see what's going on; if something were to explode while he was stuck down in that garage, he'd be highly disappointed. Porsche 959 closes his doors, soon as Spike is in. He trails along, behind Aramasu, best as he can, being a car who has to stick to the road and not obstruct traffic. He stays a few blocks behind the ninja, sometimes looping around the block, sometime doubling back - hopefully staying out of sight. Muzzle leans back in his seat, and he murmurs, "Gets nerve-wracking, being so close and yet so far." Cosmos continues to track every move that Ej Cajon makes, not leting him out of sight for even a second. He continuously relays the telemitry to everyone on the ground to aid them in following the target. With not much elde to do, Cosmos finds him-self to be very board and loanly at 30 miles up. He almost wishes that he could be on the ground, but knows he would be all but useless there.... El Cajon pays the newsman and continues up the street to his favorite local restaurant, continuing to talk into his phone in clipped but friendly-seeming tones. "I'll see if we can scrape something up. Everyone in our friends' neighborhood is going shopping lately, thanks to your godson's new promotion at work. The shelves are sparse." Courtesy of Cosmos, the eye in the sky, a video feed of the mysterious Ej Cajon pops up on a screen on Nightbeat's dash, giving Spike a view of their quarry. Spike Witwicky looks over a the feed, peering back and forth over the dash. "Hold up, Nightbeat," Spike shifts to get a better look at a figure walking away from a newstand. "That guy over there fits the description. Can't be sure though... he's on a cellphone." The unique scent molecules are sifted through and given priority as Steeljaw tracks El Cajon through the street. The big golden cat sticks to skinny side ways and rooftops, "Eh?" "Good for the economy!" 'Boomslang' answers El Cajon almost cheerfully. "Putting more money in more people's pockets should be making our friends' neighbors happy, and that should make our friends' happy... and don't we want our friends to be happy?" Porsche 959 slows down just a bit when Spike asks, though the traffic makes it difficult to go too quickly. Muzzle considers, "Does look like it. Hmm. I wonder if Roadbuster has the space inside to act a paddy wagon, or if..." Cosmos is just a bit creepy, sometimes. "I promise I will try to find something nice. It may take me a little while," replies El Cajon. "Give my regards to your niece and aunt." He snaps his phone closed and replaces it in his pocket, heading into the restaurant. Porsche 959 zip around over to the restaurant, courtesy of that visual fee, and he spins around, popping his door for Spike, putting Spike on the other side of the restaurant from Aramasu. Spike Witwicky hardly waits for Nightbeat to stop before getting out, making a brisk stride towards their target. He reaches into his jacket for an ID. Red Alert frowns as the cell phone gets shut off, and immediately alerts the other Autobots. By this point, they've got pretty good visual traces on him, so he should be all right, but still, he doesn't like the look of this. Aramasu Hikage enters the restaurant looking like a regular patron and heads for the bar to order a scotch on the rocks. Battlewagon monitors the video feed. He pulls forward, ready to serve, his front end out on the street now. He's probably further from the target than anyone else, and he may have the most ground to cover if he's called into action. He hesitates to defy orders, but in the end he decides that it's better to be safe than sorry. He advances toward the restaurant. Porsche 959 lets Muzzle out and then circles around the restaurant, looking for the nearest parking lot. Muzzle heads for the back of the restaurant, near the loading docks. He hopes he won't have to stay long - it's always a trick to explain why he's skulking near dumpsters. At the sound of the door of the restaurant opening behind him, El Cajon glances around. He doesn't like the look of Spike's body language. At all. Then he recognizes Spike. Without any ceremony given to the former Secretary-General, El Cajon pulls up his right sleeve. There's a very familiar five-tone transformation noise and a black plastic frame unfolds from somewhere up his bunched sleeve and locks around his hand, producing some kind of energy weapon, not immediately identifiable, but clearly Cybertronian adapted to a human scale. He says not a word as the lobby lights up as if lightning had struck in it, a swirling blue plasma bolt spitting from the barrel of the hidden gun to the sound of shrieks of alarm from the other patrons. Aramasu Hikage walks in not far behind Spike and sees the mark pulling a gun beginning to fire indiscriminately. The spec ops dives off to the left on the ground since the doorway is likely to be filled with fleeing patrons in the next few seconds. He looks at the lay of the land and ponders his next move. Spike Witwicky had expected to be recognized, which was why he was hoping for a more direct approach. Before he can even flash a badge, he's faced with blinding bolt that he manages to spin away from. It sears a nice hole in his jacket. "Hikage!" he shouts, suddenly caught up in the crowd of fleeing patrons. Porsche 959 has two options. He can go be a big, clumsy giant robot when he's heard plasma fire, and there are bound to be panicking humans. Or he can just let Muzzle go in. Muzzle pulls an electronic rake out of his pocket, opens up one of the loading doors, and slips in through the kitchen, where some of the staff are still focused on timing their orders just so,nd some folks are... yes, panicking. Battlewagon makes haste to the restaurant, being careful to scratch only the inexpensive-looking cars as he barrels down the road, already charging his linear blaster. El Cajon, his face set grimly, is already running through the swinging doors into the kitchen, where the crash of pots and pans can be heard as he vaults over a counter running for the back door, tipping soup over the floor behind him to make it slippery. ...and there's Muzzle. Cajon skids to a halt and brings up his plasma gun... Combat: Sneak Attack!! Combat: Boomslang strikes Porsche 959 with his Grab attack! Combat: Boomslang (Boomslang) used "Grab": A Level 0 MELEE attack. Combat: You took 0 damage. Cosmos Drops to a low altitude of about 1000 feet to beter watch the scene. He keeps a close watch on all the exits to make sure the mark dose not flee. He also stands by to function as an emergency transport for and injured humans. He is excited that he might see action. The guy who looks totally out of place in the kitchen? That's Muzzle, and as El Cajon comes streaking by and pulls a gun, the Nebulan tries flick his armour out of subspace. He's just a hair too slow. Muzzle's eyes widen, and he takes a great, sucking chest wound, slamming down hard into a counter. Aramasu Hikage dashes form his cover and towards the kitchen, he grabs a patron's scotch glass on the bar and a towel on the way...He's weird like that. He wraps the the thick bottomed scotch glass in the towel. Hikage bursts into the kitchen and uses the towel as a sling to fling the heavy glass in El Cajon's ribs to see if he flinches and drops the gun. Combat: Aramasu Hikage misses Boomslang with his Grab attack! Battlewagon transforms as he reaches the restaurant, landing in thundering run and knocking a cute little European car flying two blocks to bounce off the roof of an abandoned building. "I'm here," he declares, "is anyone hurt? where's the mark?" He bends down to look into the restaurant's front windows. Receiving Spike's message, he heads around to the back of the building, his gauss pistol drawn, and looks around for El Cajon. The mean-looking Cybertronic jeep pops apart with reckless aggression. A familiar sound accompanies its swift and ruthless transformation into Roadbuster! El Cajon grabs a wok and throws it in the direction of Hikage. The wok strikes the glass in midair and both crash to the hard kitchen floor. Cajon jumps over Muzzle's still, crumpled form and stumbles out the door, falling down the steps into the alley and scrambling to get back up so that he can bolt down the alleyway, while the cooks cower in the corners of the kitchen. Spike Witwicky pulls out a stun gun and darts through the kitchen. He's a bit too late for Muzzle, but not too late to witness Hikage's nifty ninja move, which unfortunately it doesn't hit. As Cajon heads into the alley, Spike follows not far behind, trying to get a steady bead on the man's back while running. "Over here Buster!" Combat: Spike Witwicky strikes Boomslang with his Stun Gun (Grab) attack! Steeljaw springs ahead toward the sudden erpution of sound. The tiny Autobot, a lion in the middle of Brussels runs toward the scattering, parting crowd. He roars, heading into the restaurant! Cajon twists around to try to blow Spike away with a tiny solar flare, but the taser darts catch him in the hip, under the lip of his ballistic vest, and he goes down, shivering and yelping in the damp alley. Muzzle lays on the floor, still and in a distinctly uncomfortable position. (If he could move, he would, but it's clear he can't.) He oozes life, red blood, for all that he is alien. One heart is out. The other pumps raggedly as the Nebulan struggles to draw breath. He flickers in and out of consciousness - Nightbeat is fine. Muzzle is not. Flicker. Flicker. The restauraunt is almost entirely empty now, apart from people who hurt themselves trying to flee or who are too shocked or frightened to do anything but hide. The lobby is on fire from the first missed blast from Cajon's extremely illegal alien weapon, and the floor is rapidly pooling with water thanks to the overhead sprinklers. Roadbuster stands in the street, looking into the alley, totally ready to stop this fleeing human in his tracks. He follows the sound of Spike's voice, but when he finally sees El Cajon the human is lying on the ground twitching with darts in his hip. "Is that him, Spike? Load him up." Roadbuster dives forward, forcing his heavy frame into the form of a green and orange Cybertronic jeep! Aramasu Hikage blinks at the suspect's reaction to the glass trick. "Either he is way fast or way lucky." He moves over to Muzzle to check on the nature of the wound. Unfortunately Hikage is trained killer not medic. He does not know how to put Humpty Dumpty back together. He does what he knows best and applies pressure to the wound hoping that does not suffocate the Nebulean. Cosmos araives on scene just above the alley. He waits for the others to bring Muzzle out to him so he can ruch him to a hopital. He finds him-self unable to fit into the ally in his present form. Spike Witwicky slows to stand over Cajon, panting slightly. He keeps the barrel pointed at the man's middle, glancing over his shoulder at Roadbuster before turning a weathered look on Cajon. "Spike Witwicky of the United Nations, you're under arrest for fraternizing with Decepticons, namely Boomslang, as well as unauthorized trade of weaponry." Holstering the stun gun, he cuffs Cajon with a zip-tie and yanks him up into Roadbuster's back seats. Drowning on the floor due to the sprinklers sounds like an exceptionally terrible way to go. The water rushes down, rending the blood pooled around Muzzle pale, then so faint as to barely be there, just red wisps in the deluge. Applying pressure doesn't seem to be making Muzzle any worse off than he could be. He's unresisting if someone tries to carry him off. Aramasu Hikage grabs Muzzle and hauls him out the back so Cosmos can pick him up. "Take him back to Metroplex this guy can't go to a regular hospital." The arms dealer narrows his eyes but says nothing at all. He's not likely to speak to anyone but his lawyer, an expensive one, no doubt. Once collared, he gives Spike not a whit of difficulty; it's as if he was only desperate to escape until he was caught. Now he seems resigned. Almost relaxed. Red Alert, as ordered, sends out a jamming signal. Sadly, this means he can't use his own radio currently. :("Welcome to the painmobile," Roadbuster gloats to El Cajon, the lights on his dash flickering. "I wanna say right off that this aint a safe place to be, despite the plush interior. This is a poweder keg, and the smallest spark will earn you a nice little explosion. So just sit back and relax." A gate rises to separate El Cajon from the front seats. "And keep shut up." Apon recieving the wounded form of Muzzle, Cosmos flys as fast as he posibly can while being safe, to the Metroplex hospital. Cosmos frowns as he is nolonger able to relay info back to the others or recive info from them due to the jamming signal. Spike Witwicky pats Roadbuster's backdoor, "Alright, take him to the station. And don't kill him, please." Now Spike has to linger and answer for a fried, bloody restaurant. Siiigh. Cosmos is one of the fastest rides in the Autobot armada, and Metroplex is one of the few places on Earth that can properly treat Muzzle. The Nebulan will be in critical a while, but he'll live. Doesn't do a thing for Nightbeat's rarely-pleasant demeanour. The Porsche pulls out of the lot where he parked himself and wheels around to follow Roadbuster as an escort, sullen and silent. ================================== Autobot =================================== Message: 3/227 Posted Author Senegal Coda: El Cajon Tue Jan 05 Nightbeat ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A blue Porsche appears. It is Nightbeat, he sounds distinctly disgruntled, "Right, so remember the Decepticons mucking around in Senegal? They had a human contact, referred to as 'El Cajon', who handled their involvement. Gathered up a posse today to bring him in. General Witwicky and Sergeant Hikage were along to represent the humans, to make sure the arrest went down legal-like. Red Alert handled interception and phone-spoofing. Steeljaw and Hikage both acted as trackers. Cosmos acted as an eye in the sky and as a fast emergency transport. More on that later." Very disgruntled. "Roadbuster was along as muscle, in case we needed it. We tailed El Cajon into a restaurant. El Cajon opened fire with a Cybertronian-based plasma weapon. Hikage and Witwicky were able to subdue him, but Muzzle got himself a great big sucking chest wound. He's in the ICU now - they're working on restarting his second heart. Eeesh. Well. We got the man. Minor damage to some cars and some water damage to the restaurant. Could have been worse. Didn't set anything on fire. Nightbeat, out." ==============================================================================
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