Get Me A Berger

Synopsis: Shawn Berger is finally cornered by the Autobots!

Uptown San Francisco

This part of San Francisco is one of the few areas left mostly untouched by the weather of the last decade. The steep, curving roads are still lined with beautiful old houses, some of them almost a century old. Flower pots grace the roadsides and are cultivated meticulously. Some of the streets even show the old brick roads underneath. Occasionally, you see one of the famous cable cars pass you down the streets, and people hop on and off of them at random. Fisherman's Wharf is visible in the distance, and people will give you directions to Lombard Street if you ask. The scent of the flowers mingles with the smell of fresh-baked sourdough and the slight fish scent from the Wharf. A weathered old man passes you with a fruit cart. It's covered with fresh strawberries, oranges, bananas, and other tasty items.

Obvious exits:

Fly < Up > leads to Sky over San Francisco.

Ferry < F > leads to Alameda.

East < E > leads to Outskirts of San Francisco, California.

North < N > leads to Business District.

West < W > leads to Golden Gate Bridge.

Nightbeat leaves the Decepticon Command Shuttle < CONE-1 >.

Nightbeat has arrived.

An ordinary looking man waits at a parkbench with a briefcase, waiting for his ride to drop by. But this isn't just any old car he's expecting...

Nightbeat slouches down into Porsche 959 form. Time to roll.

Porsche 959 < Nightbeat > rolls up to the park bench at a fairly slow pace that does nothing to disguise the ostentatious nature of this ride. The Porsche slows to a gentle stop, no quick motions. The passenger-side door pops open, and it becomes quite clear that this particular car has no driver.

The man stands up, straightening his tie a bit, and crawls inside of the unoccupied car without a care in the world. Closing the door gently, he glances at the side view mirrors, and the first words out of his mouth are: "Were you followed?"

A barked-out laugh comes from the inside of the Porsche. A jaded, cynical voice replies, "If anyone wants to follow*this*, they had better be in a plane or outta this world." he's faster than the average Porsche - more than meets the eye. Of its own accord, the door closes, and the car's locks engage.

The man shrugs. Good enough, he supposes. Methodically, he rests his briefcase on his lap, and unlatches it. Inside is a series of files, and an electronic device of some kind. "Ever since the Galactic Olympics ended we were certain Shawn Berger would return to Earth, and that the Decepticons would try to re-insert him somewhere on this planet. We figured that they would be the key to lead us to him, since the Decepticon fliers have an odd habit of disguising themselves as outdated fighter craft in unusual color schemes. But anyway, we tracked them for several days until we discovered a Seeker landing in Carbombya. We managed to get a satellite photo of the target..."

He holds up a glossy, black-and-white overhead picture of a Decepticon seeker, his cockpit open, kneeling down and holding a person in his hands. That person is heavy-set, wears a brown suit, and has a goattee... fitting the description of Shawn Berger rather nicely. "We believe the other humans in the picture are Abdul Fakkadi's men, perhaps one of his generals, there to receive Berger."

Porsche 959  somehow manages to see what goes on inside of him. It is a mystery how, one that even Nightbeat cannot solve. He drives slowly, getting up to just around the legal speed limit, taking turrns seemingly at random. Nightbeat drawls, "You got pictures, I see. Just couldn't get the man, huh?"

The man shakes his head grimly. "No. We assembled an EDC Black Ops team to capture Berger as soon as we received this information. However, as I'm sure you're painfully aware, it didn't turn out too well and we're not looking forward to the news reports that will be coming out of this. However, we DO have Abdul Fakkadi, even though that's going to bite us in the ass, too, however justified we might be in snatching him. Anyway, Fakkadi put up a lot of tough talk, but he cracked after we played some Red Hot Chili Peppers at him at high volume, and we think we've got a lead..."

Porsche 959  wouldn't ever say if he wasn't aware. The car lurches slightly at the mention of Red Hot Chili Peppers and murmurs, "That's banned in seventeen systems, you know." More loudly, he says, "So that's where you call in *us*, eh?"

The man smirks. "It's not banned in *this* system. But yeah... you're absolutely right. It turns out that Berger was moved to another country, one we aren't too friendly with, either, where he's been running his businesses via proxy CEO's." He allows himself a look of disgust. "France. Their radar systems are good enough to detect our stealth transports. We need... another means of sneaking in and extracting him, then getting the hell out before the French have any idea what happened."

Porsche 959  replies, sounding somewhat amused, "Knew there was somethin' I liked about this dirtball." He adds, "France is the size of Texas. Where in France? I have operatives who can be transported through the mail, if need be." That's right. Nigthbeat will totally send Foxfire parcel post.

The man looks impressed. He forgot about the mass reduction technology. "We don't have an exact location, but we have traced several phone calls from these subsidiary companies to a newly setup corporation, called, "Le Werger," if you can believe that. Obviously it's just another front. But, the point is, we strongly believe Berger is inside, but we have not been able to obtain any further information. France's internal security is rock solid right now. In fact, it's becoming a damn police state."

Porsche 959  muses, with no real sympathy in his voice, "What a shame. I'm sure their tourism industry has taken a huge hit." Boohoohoo, cry him a river. "Thanks for the tip-off. I'll see what we can do." Which will probably amount to Powerglide crashing through the roof and then Sky Lynx setting France on fire. Nightbeat swears, if only he could take some of the Autobots behind the woodshed...

The man nods, and says, "No problem. Glad to be of... help." The contact will probably expect something back in exchange for this, sometime in the future. But for now, he latches his briefcase shut, and lays it down at his feet. "I'll leave the briefcase with you, it'll have all the pertinent information you need in it." He glances outside, and says, "Go ahead and drop me off here."

Porsche 959  glides to a stop. His doors unlock, and the door opens itself. The car mutters, "Pleasure doin' business with you." He doesn't look forward to paying back the favour. No good ever comes of it.

Without saying anything more, the man slides out and strolls away, goes around a corner, and is simply gone.

Paris, France

You are currently standing at the wide park surrounding the Eiffel Tower, Paris's most prominent landmark. Streets extend into the surrounding buildings, with the French driving their characteristically reckless way. Off in the distance you can even make out the towers of Notre Dame.

Contents:

McDonalds Car Park

Obvious exits:

Gates < G > leads to Monastery.

Northeast < NE > leads to Brussels, Belgium.

Southeast < SE > leads to Zurich, Switzerland.

Southwest < SW > leads to Madrid, Spain.

Fly < Up >

Nightbeat has arrived.

You have no meetme attribute, perhaps the invitation ran out.

Onslaught has arrived.

Streetwise has arrived.

Hot Spot has arrived.

Welcome to the forbidding fortress of... LE WERGER! Well... okay, it's just a fancy looking office building with a stupid name. And at the bottom level of this structure, in the garage, Shawn Berger Jr. is expecting a special guest... of the DECEPTICON variety.

Blades has arrived.

Welcome to the forbidding fortress of... LE WERGER! Well... okay, it's just a fancy looking office building with a stupid name. And at the bottom level of this structure, in the garage, Shawn Berger Jr. is expecting a special guest... of the DECEPTICON variety.

Deciding to bring some heat to this BBQ Onslaught transforms into his missile truck mode.

Folding in upon himself, Hot Spot transforms into a Firetruck.

Police Car < Streetwise > drives through the streets and highways of France, using a combination of google maps (6.0), Autobot locator beacons and the creatively-spelled road signs to lead the way. He's had himself repainted in French National Police colors, and provided similar information on the other Protectobots in case they'd like to do the same.

Onslaught drives down into the lowest level of the garage, taking it slow on the turns to avoid scratching his armor on the corners, before he comes to a halt a short distance from the portly human with his engine idling. He remains in vehicle mode, due to the relatively low ceilings therein, but silently sits there waiting for the other to speak his business.

Porsche 959 < Nightbeat > is a bright blue Porsche with red flames. He doesn't fit in all that well, but then, that's not the point. The point is that all the officials can come hassle Nightbeat, leaving the better-painted Protectobots to get the job done. In theory, anyway.

Firetruck (Hot Spot) chugs througout the streets, fresh in his repaint to more... ...French friendly colors. So instead of a light blue fire engine, your favorite Protectobot leader is decked out in bright yellow with green stripes running along the vehicle. He's not speeding through the streets like Streetwise, but he's pacing along like a tortoise.

Blades transforms into a helicopter. Inconspicuous!

FRENCH Rescue Helicopter < Blades > sure is French! He's SO French, that he's flying through France right now! How very French of him! The point I'm trying to make is that it's all very French here today. Nevertheless, Blades pushes on, trying his best not to die inside as he sports, ugh, French colors. "For the love of Primus, someone kill me."

Speak of the devil, the cops have taken notice of Nightbeat, and an itty bitty eco-car starts to follow him, its sirens wailing. It's like being chased by a golf cart. The other Protectobots are going unnoticed, however, thanks to their dutifully looking very French.

Meanwhile...

French Police Car < Streetwise > slows down as they approach the target building to let Hot Spot catch up. He activates his radio and transmits a message on the Protect-band. < < We're almost there, guys. I'm scanning the area, nothing out of the ordinary. > > Of course, even Streetwise's scans can't see inside of the building, and more specifically the garage.

Shawn Berger rubs his hands together as he watches Onslaught drive in. "Oh, thank you for coming, Mr... uh... Decepticon! Uh, yes, I asked you to come here because of a little problem. The EDC grabbed Fakkadi yesterday, and I'm so worried he'll talk. Now, I've been very helpful to you Decepticons, and I was wondering if you could do me a favor, and, uh... take care of Fakkadi?" And by that, he means, "Murder horribly."

Porsche 959 < Nightbeat > should have just sped up and not checked in. That would have been the awesome thing to do. However, he's a divisional head, and he has to be responsible, these days. So, with a grumble, the Porsche pulls over to the side of the tiny, narrow French road.

FRENCH Fire Engine just moves along at his own pace, letting Streetwise get some of his... ...speed tendancies out of his system. < < That doesn't surprise me Street... ...if they're going to do something secretive, it's worth taking the precautions to ensure secrecy. Just make sure to wait for us before preceeding. > >

FRENCH Rescue Helicopter < Blades > continues to fly around, a large banner with the French flag on it trailing behind him as he goes. How embarassing.

Onslaught continues to keep silent apart from the continuing rumble of his idling engine as Berger speaks, but once done, he speaks again in an almost bored tone to Berger. "You asked me to come here to waste my time, human, and I understand that you did not keep fealty with us once the situation was no longer favorable to you. How would doing this deed for you benefit our cause?"

FRENCH Police Car < Streetwise > drives down the street from the building before slowing down at the next corner, engine idling. < < You got it Hot Spot. I'm to the northwest corner. I think that leaves you covering the southeast, and Blades can cover the air approach. It's not easy waiting, I can almost taste Berger. > > Shawn's been causing a lot of grief to the Autobots, and when the call went out to track him down, Streetwise was one of the first in line.

The eco cop comes to a stop behind Nightbeat, and hops out of his car--looks like the guy really had to pack himself, because he's seven feet tall. He rolls his head around a bit to get the stiffness out, then, approaches Nightbeat's driver side window, tapping it with a nightstick.

FRENCH Police Car < Streetwise > adds, < < And, uh...I don't think we can count on Nightbeat, he appears to be indisposed at the moment. > >

FRENCH Fire Engine < Hot Spot > continues down the road, arriving sooner or later from the southeast. The firefighting vehicle comes to a stall right outside of the building. < < Blades, do you have a visual on Nightbeat? I repeat, do you have visual on Nightbeat? > >

Shawn Berger feigns surprise as Onslaught berates him. "What? OH! Well, that was my FATHER that turned his back on you guys! I'm his son, Shawn Berger Jr!" They do seem very similar, the major difference between father and son being a, er, goatee. And that's it. "Well, as for what I can offer, I will contribute a large portion of my wealth to your cause! I've heard you're in great need of resources at this time, and I can provide them for you! But if Abdul talks and reveals my location, well, that's it for me!"

Porsche 959 < Nightbeat > 's door pops open suddenly and without warning, quite possibly knocking the nice French police officer over. A lazy voice emit from the Porsche, "Mon mal." That's right. He just said 'my bad' in rather poor French. There's clearly no driver in the car.

FRENCH Rescue Helicopter < Blades > tututututs over the area. < < Nn, hold on. Let..me...check...wait, yeah. I see 'em. How could I miss a paintjob like that, eh? > > The banner flappaflappaflaps behind him. < < ...Heh..hehheheh..he got pulled over. > >

The Protectobot commander could continue this mission without the detective, but he'd rather have the bot on his side when the shan hits the fit. < < Noted. Does it look like he's in trouble? > >

Onslaught continues to be unconvinced in the face of Berger's denails. "Given that is the case, then human, I hear you humans have a saying that the apple does not fall far from the tree. Why should we ensure that our plans fall in ruins a second time? After all, we -do- have more reliable ways of acquiring resources then a human from an untrustworthy grouping."

"Sacre bleu!" the eco cop cries as the door knocks him onto his butt. He gets a brief glimpse inside, noticing the lack of passengers. Autobot! Launching himself back to his feet, the eco cop pulls out his radio and begins calling for help.... and nothing happens. He stares at his radio, and sighs. Battery isn't charged. Grumbling, he holds the radio up into the air, hoping that the solar cells eventually charge the thing up enough for him to finally send that call.

France uses only the most environmentally friendly equipment in its police forces these days.

FRENCH Rescue Helicopter < Blades > watches this unfold. < < Yeah, he's fine. > >

Porsche 959 < Nightbeat > ,lacking anything better to do while pulled over, introduces himself to the cop, "Je suis Nightbeat. Je suis comme Dupin, mais je suis beaucoup superior." (I am Nightbeat. I am like Dupin, but I am lots superior.) C. Auguste Dupin. Fictional French detective. Blame Edgar Allen Poe.

FRENCH Police Car < Streetwise > makes an illegal U-turn (hey, who's going to give a ticket to a police car anyway?) and comes back to the target building, stopping in front of the entry to the garage. < < Bad news, guys...I'm picking up voices. One might be Berger, hard to tell with all the echoes. The other one is -definately- a Decepticon. An old -friend- of yours, Hot Spot. Maybe now would be a good time to signal Groove and First Aid to come in closer. > >

Shawn Berger frantically thrashes his hands about, almost begging. "Yes, yes, you can raid for resources, but I can just give them to you! You won't have to fight for them! I mean, it'll be so much easier this way! Do you want proof that I'm sincere? What do you want? Metal? Oil? Workers? I can give them to you!"

Outside, a security guard watches Streetwise make that U-turn, and come disagreeably close to the garage. He frowns and watches carefully.

And as for the eco-cop, he lets loose with a stream of French epithets at Nightbeat, most of them involving his parentage, as he angrily waves his radio in front of the sun.

Porsche 959 < Nightbeat > now replies in English, "Hey, hey, hey, I will have you know that my creation factory was a *saint*, and I visited it every Solar Day until the Decepticons went and blew it up. Primus, man, did someone step on your cheese and spit in your wine?"

FRENCH Fire Engine < Hot Spot > thinks for a moment.... ...does he move forward with some forces... ...or hang back and wait for the conventional calvary? < < Streetwise, on me... Blades, get here ASAP ...We're crashing this little tea party! > > The Protectobot Commander guns the gas, driving down into the garage; sirens blaring as he pulls in.

Onslaught is about to respond to the supplicating Berger but then the sirens reach his auditory receptors before he guns his engine again, revving it, before he swings himself to the left through the empty rows at the bottom of the garage before he turns around to face the up ramp before elevating his barrels to greet the owners of those loud sirens. "I have no more time for you, human. Remain and face the possiblity of the termination of your operating cycle."

FRENCH Police Car < Streetwise > activates his own sirens and follows Hot Spot closely. It's an old tactic between the two - when approaching the target, Streetwise leads. But once it's time for action, it's time to get out of Hot Spot's way and then follow. Instead of the normal American FWOOP-FWOOP! sounds, his siren makes the higher pitched OO-OO-OO of a French police car.

Shawn Berger blinks as Onslaught suddenly pulls away. "What? I don't understand, the police won't touch me! I have an understanding with Vice President Picard! There's nothing to worry about!" He looks around, baffled, as his security guards draw pistols and watch the garage door, as if expecting trouble.

Yes, folks, Berger really is that clueless.

Finally, the eco cop has had enough of Nightbeat's insults, and screams some more horrible things at him as he puts his radio back on his belt... and draws his gun. A really small gun.

< < Sure thing. I'm on my way > > Blades emits, making his way over to the rendevous point. As he flies, he passes over a series of powerlines. No big deal, he does this all the time. He continues with no problem.

Untill his French banner snags onto one of the poles. < < What the-OH PRIMUS, NO! >  > The helicopter we all love gets pulled back like an elastic and snaps against the power cords. < < WITH MY LAST BREATH, I CURSE GROOVE! > > He collapses into a heap in the middle of France, smoldering and charred.

Porsche 959 < Nightbeat > sounds very bored and asks, "What, is that solar-powered, too?" Yup, Nightbeat is asking for trouble. he does that.

FRENCH Fire Engine < Hot Spot > leans down the ramp, the vehicle only gaining speed by the microsecond. The twin guns on the sides of the fire engine train on the garage door, dousing it with a light blue liquid that freezes almost instantly. The Protectobot Commander revs the engine high, headed straight for the now iced door. < < Blades, I need a sit rep... BLADES! > > *CRASH*

Onslaught is about to act as the sound of the sirens gets louder and louder but then, as the fire engine smashes through the hardened door of the garage, but doesn't open fire due to the apperance of a vehicle that he doesn't recognize but still looks strangely familiar. "Human, what is the meaning of this foolishness?"

Eco cop growls, finally having lost it. They have orders to shoot Autobots on sight, anyway, so, it's not like he'll get in trouble for pulling the trigger. And, so, he does. The gun fires, and a teeny little rubber bullet smacks into one of Nightbeat's windows, bounces off, and smacks the cop in the stomach. "Arrrgh!" he grunts out, clutching his stomach and hopping around in pain.

FRENCH Police Car < Streetwise > follows in after his fearless leader (literally), but as soon as he clears the shattered door he skids into a turn and moves off to flank Berger's men. His trunk unfolds like a convertible so that his air compressor cannon can rise into firing position.

Porsche 959 < Nightbeat > has excellent hearing. It's mostly a pain in the skidplate. He doesn't *want* to hear about how Jean-Paul is cheating on Antoinnette with that German hussy from five blocks away. However, it does sometimes come in handy, such as when he hears a distinctly FRENCH helicopter crash. He transforms, stands over the cop, and he pulls out his plasma blaster, commenting casually, "That ain't a gun. *This* is a gun." He then puts his gun away and wanders off to retrieve Blades, ignoring any attention he may be getting.

The puzzle pieces of Porsche 959 rearrange into the hard-boiled Autobot detective, Nightbeat!

Shawn Berger looks around, jaw open and completely lost. "What the hell is going on!? Someone tell me what is going on!" He watches in shock as his guards hold their ground as the Protectobots smash their way in, but hold their fire, probably because of their markings. It's just enough to throw them off of the Autobots' true intentions.

FRENCH Fire Engine < Hot Spot > 's tires squeel as the skid around the garage, narrowly avoiding a collision with one of Berger's men. But their camouflage has payed off so far, not one shot has been directed at the pair. But his abrupt entrance leaves him screeching sideways, a support beam lined up perfectly to impact with the middle of the vehicle. Blast, can't pull it out like this... The Protectobot Commander quickly transforms into his robot mode, barely dashing out of the way of the collision with the structure's beam. *SKRCH* A loud noise and sparks fly from the ground as he skids to a halt, "You are in violation of terran laws! I'd advise... ...err, Streetwise! Advise them of their rights!"

Hot Spot changes into his robot mode.

Streetwise transforms into robot mode.

Streetwise produces his photon pistol and starts shouting out their rights under French law (which he's just scanned from fr.wikipedia.com). He goes through it quickly, his French kind of bookish.

Onslaught isn't sitting around for any reading of his rights as Hot Spot transforming, transforming himself, as he reaches over to tear one of the other parking supports away from it's place in line and raises it up ready to fend off the two. "Stand back, Autobot, this is no business of yours! Move away or I shall knock you both aside!" He ignored the continued shoutings of Berger.

By virtue of mechanical proccesses not entirely understood Onslaught shifts into his looming robot mode.

Shawn Berger's jaw nearly dislocates itself, he's gaping so hard. "AUTOBOTS!?! How did you find me!?" Even though that should be obvious, given what Berger was proposing to Onslaught. "Sh-shoot them!" His guards open fire with their pistols, however futile that may be. At least these bullets are made of metal.

Which brings us back to the eco cop, armed with the tiny gun that shoots rubber bullets (can't have him killing anyone, now, can we?). In fury, he squeezes back into his eco car, and peels out after Nightbeat. Unfortunately, its top speed barely even keeps up with Nightbeat's walking speed.

Nightbeat is also not sticking to the streets. He is being such a menace and wandering off to the road and onto the sidewalks. Part of it is him behing intentionally annoying. Part of it is that it's a quicker way to get to Blades. He pauses at a stand that sells baguettes, and he suggests to the eco-cop, "Maybe you oughta get a snack?"

Hot Spot takes a couple of shots to his frame, but manages to jump behind a dumpster. Only problem is, he's at least twice as large as the construction waste bin. Drawing his fireball cannon and aiming it at Onslaught, The Protectobot Commander raises another hand to try and deflect any other incoming shots from the terran pistols. "Surrender Onslaught, and I'll guarantee your safe capture and handling."

Onslaught swings the stone pylon he ripped from the ground, throwing it horizontally toward the Protectobots, but misses Hot Spot as the other leaps behind a dumpster, The pylon continues on and somehow removes Streetwise from the scene in a previously agreed manner before Onslaught advances, drawing out his own weapon, as he levels it at Hot Spot's head. "Cease your prattling, Autobot, lest I shoot out your optics which I can do quite easily at this range."

The eco car is slow and kind of pathetic, but its small size grants it the advantage of being able to follow Nightbeat even onto the sidewalk. However, this quickly proves to be his undoing as Nightbeat comes to a sudden halt by the baguette stand. The cop slams on his breaks, trying to avoid colliding with the Autobot, but doesn't manage to stop in time. "SACRE BLEU!" he cries as the front end of his car is smashed against Nightbeat's shin, with all the force of what would feel like a gentle tap to the detective. And just when it couldn't get any worse for the eco cop, his airbag deploys, slamming into his face. "FWMMMGH!"

Shawn Berger looks around, pacing about, panicking. "I have to leave, I have to leave! Oh God!" He looks at the door leading back into the building, but what good would that do? Surely the Autobots have the building surrounded! "D-D-Decepticon, if you kill that Autobot, I'll, I'll, I'll give you anything!" he cries.

Nightbeat looks down at the eco-cop, try to make sure that the eco-cop has not suffocated on his own air bag. Provided he hasn't, Nightbeat runs off to haul Blades off to safety or a reasonable facsimilie.

Hot Spot ducks his head behind the dumpster as a bullet ricochets and knocks into his audio receptors. From his 'vantage' point, the only thing he can see clearly is Shawn Berger and hear some of the words he spews from his mouth. "Decepticon... ...Kill... ...Anything." What a double crossing Combaticon, he's going to murder Shawn Berger! Threat or not, it is my sworn duty to protect life no matter what.

The Protectobot Commander lunges from the dumpster towards Berger, shooting out some shots aimed /around/ Onslaught... ...not directly at him. Although the fire smelting blast does collide with some overhead beams, reducing them to dripping metal from above his opponent. Hot Spot attempts to scoop up Shawn. "Worry not Berger, I will safe guard you!"

Hot Spot succeeds in grasping Shawn Berger, throwing him off-balance.

Onslaught ducks behind one of the still standing pylons as Hot Spot comes out shooting, even though it's not at him, before he sees that Hot Spot is in fact heading for Shawn. As Hot Spot misintepreted the situation so does Onslaught but, him being Onslaught, reacts quickly as he moves forward rapidly to slide his arms between Hot Spots and up to grip the Protectobot leader's shoulders as Menasor once did Superion. "I...do...not...appreciate...meddling." Having grabbed him, hopefully, he then tries to swing Hot Spot into the pillar behind him.

Onslaught misses Hot Spot with his grasp attack.

Shawn Berger tries to squirm his way out of Hot Spot's grasp, but like Fakkadi before him, he has some trouble breaking free of a giant metal robot. "Help me! Help me! Ahhhh!"

The guards have stopped shooting too. Would kind of defeat the purpose of "protecting" Berger if they shot him by accident, after all.

Hot Spot chuckles, Onslaught's actions are in vain. Obviously the scum bag wants to terminate the life of Shawn Berger... ...but the reasoning behind such an action is unknown. Then all the fire from the humans stop... ...they must have been confused, but now it is clear who is who here. "Worry not human, I will help you... ..." He backs away from the Combaticon leader, moving ever closer towards the garage door he broke into in the first place. "Keep your distance Decepticon, you will not end this terran's life!"

Onslaught would narrow his eyes, if that was possible, before he stretches out an arm to point at the captive Berger with his right hand as he looks into the Protectobot leader's face as the other turns toward him. "You think I concern myself with these blubbering organic, Autobot? Take him and may he bedevil your affairs as those who share his name has done to us!"

Shawn Berger wriggles, and yells, "Wait, no, don't leave! Call Galvatron, please! I can help you! We, we, can work together! I can get him anything on this planet, just don't let them take me away!" Clearly Berger is more worried about the Autobot than the Decepticon.

Hot Spot looks baffled, setting the human down behind him. "Why would I call Galvatron? And why would he help you against your pursuer, Onslaught?"

Onslaught shifts his arm downward to point down at Berger as the other is set down while still looking at Hot Spot. "This...organic....wished to provide us with protection for his doubtful assistance. I was going to refuse, as I know the legacy of his deeds, but then you choose to interrupt in your usually inefficient manner. Well, go and rescue him then. It would save me and the rest of the Empire a good deal of trouble."

Shawn Berger sobs, and tries to run away the instant Hot Spot sets him down. "I offered you everything!" Berger cries. He doesn't understand why the Autobot put him down, given that he bombed their city and the whole world is looking for him, but he doesn't care, either!

Hot Spot is befuddled to say the least. Onslaught want's him to take Shawn Berger, Berger want's Onslaught to kill him, and The light blue fire engine has no clue what to do. Still backing away, his gun trained on the Combaticon. "..."

Onslaught props his rifle against the nearby piling, crossing his arm, as he turns his head to look toward the fleeing Berger. "You offered us nothing of value, human!" He turns to look back at Hot Spot before gesturing toward the other dismissively. "If you wish him, take him. There is little of value left in him but I know of your mandate to protect humanity even ones such as him."

Shawn Berger huffs and puffs as he runs up the ramp to the outside. It's too bad, he might escape. The EDC went through a lot of trouble to locate him, too.

Hot Spot jogs backwards, still keeping both of them in his sights. It seems the Decepticon want's nothing more than the just get rid of the human... ...something isn't quite right here... ...and neither of the two are leaving until Hot Spot get's the answers straight. The Protectobot mutters into his radio.

Onslaught does not, however, try anything as the Protectobot jogs backward...indeed, his stance looks almost bored as he watches Hot Spot jog away. Once the other movies away, however, he picks up his rifle and begins to walk back up the ramp to see where this situation between Hot Spot and Berger will terminate himself. He boosts his vocal synthezier to a degree that Berger can hear. "If one fails to get you, human, the others will! Trust it won't be the Decepticons, however, as I can assure you that you are not wanted!"

Shawn Berger runs out into the streets, trying to force his way past a crowd of confused onlookers. Onslaught's words fall on him like crushing stones, and he is reduced to a sobbing, panicked wreck. "How could this happen!? I... I had a deal with them!"

Hot Spot receives the radio signal, and all is made aware to him. Berger wasn't the two bit punk or arms dealer he thought... ...no, he's an active terrorist; one who has plagued the Autobots and EDC alike with his shenanigans. Turning around, the Autobot tries to pick him out of the crowd he's immersed himself into. "Stand aside, Protectobot business!" A dash here, blurr there, afterimages are all he can discern at the moment.

The crowd parts before Berger, allowing him some place to run by... unfortunately, the maximum land speed of a human is significantly lower than that of your average Cybertronian.

Firestar arrives from Brussels, Belgium to the northeast.

Firestar has arrived.

Jayson Redfield has arrived.

A fat man with a goatee and a brown suit appears to be running away from a Hot Spot repaint. That's the situation, gentlemen.

Hot Spot stalks after his 'prey', but is momentarily distracted by the com chatter. The little bugger seems to have lost him... ..oh, no there he is! Inferno's twin stalks down the street, trying his best to avoid stepping on any humans.

Firestar is certainly cruisin' along easily......not bad for being a hovertruck.

Jayson Redfield is back in France--hey, he *told* Nate he might! And just his luck, there's that Berger creep, with Hot Spot in pursuit. The blonde youth slips out of an alley and peeks around a wall. He is, at the moment, in casual clothes, and trying not to draw attention to himself. After all, with France hating the EDC, and the French pretty much wanting to kill him, he's at risk just coming here. It's all worth it, though.

Shawn Berger yelps, "SOMEBODY! Police! Decepticons! Freaking aliens, I don't care, someone help me!" Trying to evade Hot Spot, he ducks into an alley. A certain alley. An alley a certain someone might be in.

Firestar is zooming right along when there's suddenly sirens behind her! well blast. so she cuts down a side street and tries to lose the french police......

Luck must be on his side! Jayson grins and steps right in Berger's path, intent on trapping him. "Going somewhere...?"

Shawn Berger practically jumps out of his skin when Jayson blocks his path. As it is, he manages a good leap. "Ahhh! Get out of my way! There's an AUTOBOT chasing me!" As if that's the worst thing in the world to happen to someone. He has no idea who Jayson is.

Jayson Redfield reaches over to poke Berger in the chest. "Yeah? Well, I think the Autobots are pretty pissed about you trying to blow up their city, and I don't blame him. Also, I owe you for that burnt arm!"

Hot Spot tromps around the block, scanning left and right... ...only two places he could have gone. A dumpster on the right side and an alley on the left. Nah, the alley is too obvious. The Protectobot Commander stalks up to the trash receptacle and proceeds to lift it up. "Come out now Berger, I have you surrounded!"

Shawn Berger blinks at Jayson, then peers fearfully over his shoulder. "What? Your arm? I don't know what you're talking about! I, er, I'm not responsible for the bombing at AC, either! Those accusations are false! Now get out of my way!"

Jayson Redfield shakes his head. "Sorry, no can do. And you don't remember? Your 'friend' Blitzwing decided to SET A ROOM ON FIRE. Ring a bell?" He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his gun, but doesn't point it at Berger. "Now will you cooperate, or will I have to kick your ass to *make* you cooperate?"

Hot Spot is now sitting on the pavement, his hands over the top of the dumpster. "There is no way you can escape Berger, give yourself up!"

Shawn Berger suddenly remembers. It all happened so fast. "Oh. Dammit." He meekly raises his arms. "Alright! Alright... I surrender!" He says it loud enough for everyone to hear, and resigns himself to his fate.

Hot Spot smiles to himself, placing the trash bin on the street. "Then come out with your hands up! And don't get too close, you probably smell like trash!" Obviously the damage to his audio receptors hasn't repaired itself yet.

Jayson Redfield rolls his eyes. "Hey...Hot Spot, isn't it?" he calls out to the Autobot. "He's over here!" He steps closer to Berger, pulling out a pair of handcuffs for just such a scenario. "Well, then. I guess you're under arrest."

Shawn Berger doesn't resist. He holds his arms out glumly.

Jayson Redfield places the cuffs on Berger's wrists. Go him!