| abstract
| - Central Tarn - Tarn A once powerful and proud city, strong and arrogant enough to make all of Cybertron know the name Megatron. At some point long after Megatron left the planet pursuing the Ark, the Autobots took over Tarn and purged it of any Decepticon presence: it is, for all intents and purposes, a police state. Dull purple, gray, and black hexagonal shaped buildings dominate the landscape, as lifeless and beaten down as the people that inhabit it. The government put in place by the Autobots is led by an elder mech called Lightsinger, though he is rarely seen in public. The locals derisively refer to their puppet leader as 'Governor Iacon'. The majority of the traffic is mechs moving between the energon refinery and the residential sector. There isn't much more to do than work and recharge -- free time tends to lead to Deceptive thoughts. Weapons are outlawed: regular stops and searches by police patrols are as common as altmodes in Tarn. The problem with Tarn, no matter how much you have been in it, how much you have seen, there's always the sense it's going to show you more. It was Decepticon territory for so long that it's impossible to feel settled, that despite it being held by the Autobots now, there's just a great many unknowns. Who knows what the Cons built into this place and especially that slag-sucker Shockwave, the most twisted and deceptive of them all. That has Chromia on edge just being in this place but then she's also on the lookout for anything, something that might lead her back to that one-opticed demon. Yet, she's also here to do a job, to protect the governor so that also has her on an additonal edge. She's out patroling the main streets with her assigned partner Trailbreaker, seeing if she can spot anything that's worth being spotted. "What had your pistons so wound last night?" She hasn't asked until today. "And where were you? I didn't take you for the type to be late," Chromia asks Trailbreaker as she walks, eyes up as she looks at the rooftops in particular. Orange energy arcs from palm to palm, creating a tiny bubble that soon expands.. the sides become oblong, twisting, bending, manipulated by the most minute of thoughts. Trailbreaker's mind races back to last night, the stadium seat contemplation, the question that unwillingly haunts him during recharge, his quick and decisive rush to action in the Arena, Chromia's questions, anger. Of all, he remembers the urge to anger more strongly than all others. The small orange forcefield bauble, in the meantime, was expanding rapidly in his palms and spastically changing shape until it ruptures. Manipulated unconciously by thoughts as well, it appears. "Oh, that?" Trailbreaker manages a stifled chuckle to Chromia, his glare following hers to a nearby rooftop. "You know, just having a little fun with the Decepticreepos. I wasn't.." he trails, intent on explaining his early arrival. "..planning on being late. Anyways, what do you make of Governor Iacon.. Lightsinger, protector of Tarn?" he inquires, a bit of a smug grin on his face. "I want him to be genuine," she answers quickly. She's willing to forgive Trailbreaker for ignoring the obvious in her questioning. Bot has his reasons and she should respect that. "Chances are that he's seen more than anyone should. Shockwave is a savage and he's always been most cruel to those that he can easily get his hand on - so, the closest. I remember the long years where Tarn was his personal playground," she bites. She really can't help herself from making jabs at all the Arkians any chance she gets. "So I'm betting Lightsinger remembers far more than I did, in our runs through Tarn. Elita never kept us in any one place for too long. There was always too much to be done." Again, can't help herself. "Plus," Chromia smiles, "I think he's got a few things pegged." She points then to one rooftop in particular. "I don't like that one. There's too much cover on that back window." She means to check that out. Those in the protection racket tend to have a phobia about something in particular - like ambushes, explosives, etc. For Chromia it is snipers, maybe because of all the years working with Moonracer and knowing how good her fellow femme is. "I'm guessing that you think he's too hard? Too judgemental? Maybe he's not wise to the 'bigger picture'?" Taking out a datapad, Trailbreaker scribbles down notes as to the nefarious looking rooftop.. as if the inanimate structure could and would swallow them whole. It's certainly not an old Buildingformer, is it? IS IT?? "Noted." he replies evenly, stowing the device away as quickly as he scribbled the note. "Pity, we missed the party.. this time though you've got the strength of the -full- Autobot force behind ya!" he gently pats Chromia's shoulder, then instantly thinks he shouldn't be patting her shoulder. She could probably remove his arm socket with just a thought. "Haha, you credit me with too much.. I just think he's old." Trailbreaker laughs about Lightsinger's age. Chromia does think about it. Removing his arm. Yet, she's reeling a bit. Surely there has to be more to this Bot than *that*! Party? He's old? There has to be more beneath the surface, surely?! Generally it's only the Cons that are so shallow as Chromia can think of several Constructicons that she can barely tell apart. "There's a lot that can be done with the *right amount* of force," she chides as she looks up to Trailbreaker. Quality over quantity," she states as she narrows her eyes. C'mon, where's the Bot that was so clever against Sterling? The one that impressed her? Not the lazy junker that left on the Ark. "Imagine, if you would," she softens as she tries this again. Chromia needs to work with Trauilbreaker here. He could be useful. "If you were him. Holed up in Tarn, subjected to Shockwave's cruelty for millions of cycles. Having your own fellow bots side with those that were brutal to you. To watch all of that taken out on the very bots you wanted to help get out of all of that. Then, when that happens, to have us - The Autobots - not rush in to help? Not save but *help*... I think he has ever right to feel bitter, to be resentful," she concludes,maybe projecting a bit more of herself on Lightsinger than she meant to. "But endearing, in that 'stop hassling me oldtimer' kinda way.. you know?" Trailbreaker finishes his thought, shutting up when Chromia delves into the deeper psyches of a millions year old freedom fighter. Thinking for a moment to go deeper, to give a fair introspective on the situation and person, Trailbreaker decides against it. He's not afraid of his feels, of getting too close to a situation, of opening up and giving his honest deep caring opinion about Lightsinger. But it's much easier to pal around for now, keep his real opinion to himself. Much easier to distance oneself from tragedy when you voluntarily distance yourself from the person it follows. Especially since either Chromia or Lightsinger could be laid out to die in the streets like a turbo-rat any cycle now. "He's taken a licking and keeps on ticking, that's for sure. But we're just here for his protection, right? Don't want to be overstepping our orders here Chromes, red tape and all." he cautions, trying to balance humor and fear of punishment from command. Spike Witwicky is all over the place as of late, though the issues surrounding those dang insects weigh on his mind the most. Some EDC ensigns from the Terran settlement on Cybertron have accompanied him to Tarn, and follow him on the city's tarmac, though some stay with the shuttle. The reports from Fort Dawn are largely positive now that the Wall has been repaired. The politics here are hardly EDC business, but Autobots are allies! So it matters to Spike, though he's unsure how any of the Terrans could help. Cybertron-stationed Terrans are pretty damn good at keeping from getting squashed as they walk amongst the towering mechs, be it with simple formations or just quiet signals. "Could these fellas look any more dejected," Spike murmurs, regarding the subordinate citizens on their way to work. "Chromia, Trailbreaker," he greets. "How are things here?" It's a pretty open question. "Ah, there they are. My gallant protectors!" Lightsinger steps out of a cafe to the right of the Autobots, flanked by his usual entourage of assistants and security. "Two of Iacon's finest. For all of the targets the two of you hit, you certainly miss the point almost constantly." He raps an assistant with his cane for pulling a chair out for him. "I don't need help sitting." He points at Trailbreaker and Chromia and waves at the open chairs at his table. "You two. Morning recharge. That's an order, I suppose." Settling in, he eyes Spike Witwicky with interest. "Earth Defense Command, eh? Join us. I've never met a human, before." She could almost slap him! "Yes, we are," Chromia has to agree. That was the assignment but, damnit bot! One should care too. That's kind of the point that Lightsinger is riding them about, or is she the only one that sees that? Feels guilty for it, and she's even the one that actually was here! "Maybe you need to focus on just that," she says as she shakes her head and now means to lift his hand off her shoulder. Chromia turns and looks down when Spike addresses her. Well, that's unexpected! "The Prime's friend," she nods. she scans her memory banks for a name but comes up short. "Which makes me think you could also be useful," she says aloud. Maybe that is something that would have better remained a thought. Chromia snaps to attention a little more as Lightsinger appears. The Bot is everywhere! "Yes, of course," she says quickly as she moves to join him. But first she stops to pull out a chair for Trailbreaker to suggest that he take it as well. "Forgive me, but as for targets, I hope that our being here will divert such a thing away from you and more squarely on us." It was worth a shot, right? Suddenly they are beset upon by Spike of the EDC -and- Lightsinger of Tarn, what a wonderful episode this is turning out to be!! Even the 'gallant protectors' comment brings a smidgen of a grin, before he realizes it's more of the old bot's sarcasm. "Well, his protection is my top priority.. what's yours?" Trailbreaker whispers, making his way towards the cafe and Lightsinger. Instead of replying to Chromia's fear of creating a target, Trailbreaker instead primes up his palm forcefield projectors. "Forcefield on standby, ready for deployment." The Autobot pulls out a chair for Spike to sit down at, looking around for some kind of booster seat. "I could uh.. make a forcefield seat more akin to your size?" he offers, nervous chuckle evident in his voice. Spike Witwicky cocks a brow at Chromia's comment as his associates exchange glances. "...If we could be useful somewhere, all the better," he slowly replies, then looks over at Lightsinger with a sheepish smile. "The novelty will wear off before too long, sir." None of the Terrans move to get comfortable. "It's fine, Trailbreaker, I don't mind standing. You two are protecting the governor now?" Lightsinger gives a violent sounding HA! at Spike's question about protection, sounding somewhere between a laugh and a rib breaking cough. "Yes, protecting me. I don't know how I've stayed alive all these years without them." He sips a cannister of energon from a compartment on his side. "I never actually consume anything from the city, but public appearances...help." He rolls his optics a bit. "So, let's cut to the chase with my gallant knights. What do you think of my lovely city?" Chromia is about to whisper-reply to Trailbreaker but thinks better of it. Plus... she's really not sure what her answer would be and thus shuts her up effectively immediately. So much so that she doesn't have an answer for Spike either, so hopefulyl she'll remember to get to it. She does think she can make use of his ...s ervices. Or rather, his connections. "It's worst days are behind it," Chromia answers Lightsinger instead, with confidence. "The Cons, Shockwave, are out so it can only get better. It's never been a place to know the best of what Cybertron has to offer. The EDC could benefit from taking a tour," she suggests. Maybe if they see exactly what Tarn is like from eye-level then they might be inclined to get involved. She looks to Spike as she wonders just why he might be here. "The Prime would do well to look here himself," she suggests to all, though she maintains her focus on the human. "Yes.. no.. I'm not entirely sure, he doesn't need to be protected from anything but rust it seems." Trailbreaker asides to Spike, a playful wink before he returns to the conversation proper. "The Prime.." he marks with hand-air quotation marks, "..has dozens of 'Tarns'.." again with the hand-air quotations, "..so cut him some slack, eh?" he defends Rodimus, against all inclination to do the opposite. He's not Optimus Prime, that's for sure. ~What would Optimus Prime do If he was here right now, He'd make a plan And he'd follow through, That's what Optimus Prime would do. When Optimus Prime was in the olympics, Skating for the gold, He did two salchows and a triple lutz While wearing a blind fold. When Optimus Prime was in the robo-alps, Fighting Ikk-yak bears, He used his magical Matrix power, And saved the Femmes fair. So what would Optimus Prime do If he were here today, I'm sure he'd kick an ass or two, That's what Optimus Prime would do.~ "I like Tarn, sir." Trailbreaker replies to Lightsinger directly, placing hands on the table. "Its dirty, its nasty, it'll kill ya, its got character in spades." he smiles. Trailbreaker's small joke earns a grin. "It's a wonder Prime hasn't come yet," Witwicky replies evenly, watching Chromia. "He needn't any slack, Trailbreaker, this place ought to be a priority." Bee may be the closest 'bot friend he's got, but Rodimus is still a mech that means quite a bit to Daniel, so he has no trouble being hard on the Prime. Still, there could be a number of reasons. "I... need to speak with him before helping out proper. Perhaps he has explanations." Pause. "Is that what you want from me then, Chromia?" he asks with the faintest of smiles. Lovely city? Spike looks skywards at the reaching spires. It /could/ be lovely. Spike doesn't comment. Lightsinger takes a long draw from his energon flask. "Lots of Tarns. Of course. Rodimus has countless city states that are really just Autobot fortifications hanging onto a thread on top of a Decepticon city, like a tent pitched on the back of Trypticon. Hundreds of Tarns that are the last Autobot presence between here and a vast no man's land to Iacon." Lightsinger shakes his head, studying his cane for a moment. "At least Witwicky has some sense of urgency. I've been fighting here for countless cycles, keeping a dead city from turning into a thriving Decepticon epicenter. When Cybertron reformatted, we siezed the opportunity to raise the Autobrand, and we've been struggling to keep it there ever since. How long would the Retoris Wall hold if Tarn fell, and the Decepticons were able to march from both directions?" Both hands holded over his cane, his optics glower at Trailbreaker. "How long? And yet, Prime doesn't show the flicker of interest until he finds out that I don't treat neutrals who hide Decepticon small arms in their apartments politely." He shakes his head. "You think I haven't heard the ideas out of your best and brightest? Clean up the police, replace Lightsinger with a new governor. Because the Decepticons will stop if we hold hands and sing songs together." Lightsinger knocks his fist on the table, like someone knocking on wood. "Tell me, Chromia, did a hug prevent Shockwave from pulling Elita One's lasercore out on the Wall? Is Prime having a lot of success in Protihex with his friendship initiative? Replacing Target Masters with Warm and Fuzzy Masters?" Flask. "Rodimus Prime and Prowl, two of our best and brightest." He spits. "If we survive the storm that screams down on us when we start making nice, I'll be happy to say I told you so." He eyes the energon spread that's been put on the table. "Eat." "No," Chromia states confidently. "I won't cut him any slack." Why should she? Being the Prime means he has to make the hard choices, or better, the right ones. He's got the Matrix of Leadership so he should know what those are. Rodimus is hardly her choice for Prime and she's not shy about thinking that. "He needs to be in all of the Tarns then." How? It's up to him to figure out how. Chromia finds herself smiling as she looks to the human. Not only does he agree with her but he has also impressed her. Maybe there really is something to these humans. "That is *exactly* what I meant," she states, unfraid to show her appreciate for Spike's cleverness. If it takes a human to make a Prime listen, she's not above asking for that to happen. So she says something she rarely does but always, always means. "Thank you." To Lightsinger Chromia has no reply. She falls silent and still. She has been *here*. She's *fought* all over Cybertron for millions of years (yes, she's fond of reminding everyone, even in OOC comments on her own pose) and yet she feels *guilty*. Chromia can't help but feel like she should have done more though she's done more than she could. How do the other Bots not feel that burden? The question about elita strikes her, hard, and she winces visibly. It shakes her. She shakes, though her hands ball to fists as she thinks on the other, private, reason she's in Tarn. "I have no appetite," she tries politely to state as a way of apology for not accepting her host's offer. Prowl follows Chromia's locator and decides to stop by and see how she is doing. A quick 3D scan of the building confirms the location and the Autobot makes his way towards the gathered mechs. Footsteps can be heard in the hallway approaching and finally Prowl reveals himself in the doorway. He gently knocks twice on the door's frame even though he is in plain sight. Politeness? Scarscam? Hard to tell. "Governor" he nods at Lightsinger and steps in. He smiles at little at Chromia and Trailbreaker, happy to see his two reliable ones hard at work. Anger, that emotion Trailbreaker attempts to hide.. bury deep down inside his core, such an ugly feature to an otherwise upbeat bot. Was Tarn important to the war effort? Of course, but so was every -other- city on Cybertron. Earth still stood as a open playground to the Decepticon cause, Nebulos a constant chaotic warzone riddled with the absolute worst the Cybertronian's had to offer.. Thunderwing. Entire planets had been swallowed whole by Unicron, the very threat to existence itself Rodimus Prime stopped by becoming the Matrix bearer. So what if that was thirty years ago, that's a flash in the bucket to a Transformer.. a robotic being which ages much slower compared to the rest of the organic universe. All of these thoughts fill Trailbreaker's mind, he's disgusted that one city should clamor for all of his attention. He's not Optimus Prime, as eluded to in song before, but dammit.. he's trying!! While the mental cauldron stews, Trailbreaker shrugs it off. "Heh, no you guys are right.. sorry, was trying to inject a little humor into the situation." he apologizes, bowing his head. Then Prowl's CONVIENENT entrance breaks the awkward moment, the one-trick pony seizes it almost instantly. "Boss, good to see you!" he gets up, vigorously patting the Autobot policemech on the back. So this Lightsinger isn't just some doddering public figure. Spike rubs his jaw and leans back to catch a whisper from one of the ensigns. He nods and grants Chromia a small shrug, "Don't thank me yet, I can only do so much to sway leaders. We'll see." Beat. "You're welcome." "I'm expected back in Retoris. Be well, all of you. Hopefully I can throw some assistance your way in the near future." With a quick salute and a nod to Prowl, he and his entourage head back towards the shuttle. Apparently satisfied that no one was able to counter the truth, Lightsinger sits back a bit, eyeing Prowl as he enters. "Speak of the devil and he transforms. A shame you're not as good at civic planning as you are at showing up when you're being criticised." He offers a gesture of a wave to Spike. "Thanks for visiting, human. I'll make sure to have human food on the spread next time. Breakfast bortos, or whatever it is you creatures consume for fuel." He waves his cane at Prowl. "Sit, eat Chromia's rechargers, since she's keen on wasting them. Maybe you can crackwise better than the walking forcefield here- it absorbs blasters AND laughter, apparently." Prowl lets the barb fly by without showing any emotion. Part of the game. "If I was destined to be a Civic planner, I would have been built as one. Seems my natural gifts are different but that does not stop me from doing my best given the situation." He grabs one of Chormia's recharcher and flicks it into his mouth. "That Tarn situation is not an easy one as you know. I just believe that there is a way to make things better without turning the city into a giant prison." Chromia looks up at Prowl as he enters and her look is one of... stunnedness. She's rattled by something. She quickly looks away and works rapidly on collecting herself. She's used to being the one to wield that hard edge of truth on others, not having it turned on her. She does make sure to look to Spike again before he and his crew depart to nod, to acknowledge that she heard him. "That's more than most of us Bots can hope to accomplish, lately," she gets out. She takes a moment to collect herself and then addresses Prowl. It's really good to see him here, out of that office. She thinks it's important for him put himself out there - here. "Blast Off was in Tarn last night." That feels like a report. "He wasn't up to anything, but I think it's a sign of something we might not of considered. Tarn does have some sentimental value to the Cons," she says as she makes sure to *not* look at Lightsinger for the moment. "They're normally driven for power or resources but we shouldn't underestimate their need for... attachment." It's just something she hadn't thought of before. "Keeping the governor safe isn't going to be an easy task." Now she looks to him. "He needs to be seen, to be involved, so we can't go into hiding. We're going to have to be prepared because the attempt *will* happen," she's convinced. If her read on Lightsinger is accurate... "We should gear ourselves towards the mindset of surviving it rather than avoiding it." Just one tiny forcefield bauble, inserted in the brain module, popped.. he's old anyways, right? Hell, by the looks of him he hasn't transformed in years. No one would be the wiser. Trailbreaker makes a mental effort to stay idle thoughts, even if they're more of a holdover from last night's festivities. "Don't the humans put their religious leader in a box on a car?" he says aloud, staring down at the table and rechargers offered to him. Instead of eating, he has them set up in a mini-diagram. One blocky one is being pushed right this moment by his index finger. "Yeah, I think they call it a pop-mobile or something. Anyways, it looks innocuous enough.. Lightsinger drives around.." he trails, flicking a condiment at the block intended to be the popemobile. FWOOOOOOOOOOOOSH A tiny little itty bitty forcefield blocks the 'missile' and sends it bouncing off the table. "Wah-lah, protection without sacrificing visibility." Trailbreaker smiles, looking up at the rest of them. Now, who said you shouldn't play with your food?? Lightsinger chuckles, and focuses on his morning recharge. "A tough situation. Wise words from one of our military's commanding officers." He looks up as a missile slams into the forcefield, probably surprised, but a combination of being two old to process emotion with his face and a refusal to show vunerablity help him no sell the blast. "Was that the attack?" He taps his cane at Chromia and Trailbreaker. "Well, we all made it." Prowl nods at Chromia "Yes. At this stage we are lacking too many details to stop it so the key might be well surviving it." He does not sit down but continues to pace around the table and puts a hand on Trailbreaker's shoulder "And this is why I have my defense strategist on the case. Good point about the shielded car." "You will also be happy to know the Tarn PD is in the final phase of it's clean-up. If the population feels they can actully trust the authorities it will go a long way to bring the temperature down. We are also making progress in other areas. After that it will be a 'wait and see' approach. See if the changes are having positive effects. That's the trouble when managing a 'social situation'. Results are slow-coming. It is a patient mech's game." "That and Lightsinger won't go under protection." Nor would she dream of doing it, though that is the logical thing to do. Chromia knows she can't control the vetern governor but maybe she can contain him. She finds himself nodding at Trailbreaker's proposal because, "That could work." And well. Chromia then finds herself looking from Prowl to, not Lightsinger, but his entourage for a more direct assesment of how Prowl's plan might be receieved by the masses. She keeps optics on them as she answers Lightsinger with, "If only the coming attack was so easy." "That's just the first approach to public interaction." Trailbreaker smiles, finally getting some positive feedback from two thirds of the bots gathered. "Lightsinger, do you have any technicians in the city I can work with? Someone I should speak to directly?" he asks, folding his arms and placing them on the table. Not long afterward, he's chowing down on what was just recently a popemobile stand-in recharger. Oh, the diorama horror!! The Governor stares at Prowl for a long time. Like, a while. It's not a pleasant stare. "There are a lot of things you can do in this city. You can come in here polished up like Knights of Cybertron, kick over a hornet's nest, announce mission accomplished and then leave without cleaning up the mess. If that's what Prime wants, I can't stop you." The old mech sits up slowly, hand on his cane. "But you will not come to Tarn and condescend me. Ever." He pauses for a moment. "Social situations. There's nothing social on this planet outside of the Steel Balloons your troops waste their time in, rubbing elbows with Decepticons and fooling themselves into thinking there's anything else on Cybertron but war. We'll see how social things get now that you've prevented my police force from doing their jobs. We'll see what the 'situation' is when the citizens here resume bombing, and murdering innocent mechs like the one that used to own this very cafe in the name of the Decepticons, because we weren't allowed to randomly check an apartment for sniper rifles and rocket launchers." Lightsinger stands. "Like I said to this one..." He taps his cane against Chromia. "Where did trust and friendship get Optimus? Where did it get Elita, or Ironhide? Windcharger? If you think this plan of yours is up to snuff, you go knock on the door of Castle Decepticon with a basket of flowers. See where it gets you." He gestures with his cane, and his entourage of administrators and security scramble to leave. "Enjoy your recharge. I'll be in my office, facing what Prime and the rest of you Iacon Bots refuse to accept: reality. You and the comedian can protect me there, Chromia." As for Trailbreaker's question, he pauses for a moment. "There should be someone in the Department of Currents and Signals up to snuff. Tell 'em I sent you." And with that, the old mech heads down the road. "He called me a comedian." Trailbreaker smiles, in a hushed tone. "He thinks I'm funny." This time, he doesn't realize it's sarcasm. Prowl is a bit surprised at the outburst but it also tells alot of Lightbringer's mental state. What he sees is a prisonner of war...a prisonner of time. This is not over, not by a long shot. The 'king' might not feel cooperative but that does not mean the other pieces will sit idle. "Indeed Governor...we will see." Prowl about facesand heads out towards the Tarn PD for an overdue meeting that will put things back on track. Chromia finds herself on her feet. She was prodded afterall, by Lightsinger's cane. She has to look to Prowl after that expression because... well, she really wants to tell him she told him so - though she never has. It's some of what she's wanted to say, tried to say and yet... it's all missed. It didn't register did it? He even leaves without so much as a word. Chromia grabs Trailbreaker's arm, forcably, for what is quickly becoming a habit as she means to haul him along with her. "Let's go. If we're going to do our job let's at least not let him out of our sight."
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