Eviction Notice Pt. 1

Outskirts of San Francisco - San Francisco

Northern California still struggles to maintain its natural beauty, even though it is teeming with people and fighting with all the problems of a modern society. For the most part, the hilly green city of San Francisco succeeds in that venture. Still, you get the sense of vast overcrowding pushing at the seams of this place, where no privacy can truly be afforded. Even the outskirts and suburbs overflow with people.

Contents:

Imager

Is this pile of junk a little bigger than it was before?

Autobot City 

Metroplex City Defenses

Punch has arrived.

Its mostly on one of the outer buildings of Autobot City. One of the massive storerooms that the EDC isn't exactly using at the moment, because, lets face it, they take up a lot less space, even with their tanks. Military testing and the like is still ongoing as the Earth forces take advantage of the space and technology. Haven't seen many of them around though.

Could the collection of junk and...well more junk that has become quite the hillock in/around the storeroom known as 23-B have anything to do with it?

Even as observers keep an eye on the situation, one can spot perhaps seven Insecticons now, all of them climbing around or working on their makeshift hive. The tunnels therein are fairly small, a good minibot would be able to get through them, but wherein they lead, that hasn't been determined yet.

On a side note, if Roller were active, he'd be ballistic.

Arcee has taken a shuttle to Autobot City from Iacon, to check on just how problematic these resident Insecticons are becoming. After stopping into the Command Center to get a briefing, she heads out to 23-B to observe the hive in progress.

When she finally reaches the hive, she frowns. "Oh, Smokescreen and I will need to discuss this. This is not what the plan was," Arcee mutters to herself, shaking her head. She heads closer to the hive, but doesn't do anything to stop the busy Insecticons, because she isn't entirely sure they wouldn't turn on her. The possibility is there.

He can't even. Transforming from four wheels to two feet Punch just... can't. Noting he may have to have words with Smokescreen, preferably when Punch is securely strapped down so he can't have a rare lapse in judgement, about all this... mess. Not just in the physical sense either. It's a tactical disaster.

Giving Autobot City over to the Decepticons would actually be better at this point. Punch slights two cigs, lets them self light and puffs the life out of them. He's scanned every which way he can and... no. "Just no. I... I can't. This... just", he sighs, "No." Punch believes strongly in people. People being the operative word. Bugs and their infestation... do not qualify.

From atop the small hive lies a firefly who seems to be watching the pair of Autobots watch them. Its abdomen glows in a slow cadence, its antennae twitching as it fiddles with the hive's layout, making these tiny changes that only it knows need to be done.

A stinkbug shuffles inside the hive and out of sight. For the most part the hive is silent, but those with advanced sensors may be able to tell that they've probably burrowed into the store room itself as their main base of operations. Whatever those may be.

Arcee glances over at Punch, nodding to him in acknowledgement with an expression that looks like she wants to ask him, 'How do you like this mess?'. Instead of doing that, though, she turns back toward the hive and looks toward the firefly. "Pardon me, but I'm looking for Stool, have you seen him?"

The doublespy sees Arcee's look. Smiling more weakly than he ever has he shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. He revises the note. Smokescreen's the one that needs to be strapped down. Lapse be damned. Punch walks over to where Arcee's standing and goes to speak. At the last microsecond he manages to take a draw from the twin cigs he's smoking, shutting him up. Best, for now, he brings silence to the conversation.

Not much happens. The hive is just still there, and the firefly up on the top of it doesn't do much more than flitter its wings and watch you closely, the glow on it pulsing slowly. Perhaps disinterested is the proper word for it, if one could analyze the somatics of an insect. Three minutes pass without anything else happening on their end, but you're still there, waiting. The firefly manages an exasperated sigh, then tilts its head down into a hive tunnel, its voice distinctly Femme. "Stool, your friends are here." Its work done, it crawls into a secondary hole upside down, disappearing from view.

A skittering dung beetle appears moments later, chittering its mandibles and wings as it hesitantly comes forward, though not leaving the hive's safety. "The Queen? Is she here?"

Upon saying that, a door of some kind opens up nearby, just enough so its hive occupant can cast its optics on you.

Arcee waits. Maybe she doesn't wait patiently, but she'll stand here for as long as she has to.

Finally, as the firefly-mech passes along the message, Arcee relaxes her posture just a bit. "Hello," Arcee greets the beetle-mech. "Are you Stool? My name's Arcee, I needed to speak with you for a moment." She wonders to herself who the Queen is...did they think Smokescreen was their Queen? And if he wasn't around, would they even give her the time of day? She was about to find out.

... seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven... Punch counts internally. Great. The point of contact isn't an authority figure amongst its peers, the organisation isn't exactly friendly and he's being watched. ... twelve thirteen fourteen... He takes another draw from the cigs. Eventually events move forwards as they do and Stool appears. "Although Smokscreen isn't here we are friends of hers..." Until such time as Punch finds him "... and, if you could we'd like to know a few details." Punch adds politely and a little softly to Arcee's inquiry. Details. Like what in the name of Optimus Prime is going on? That'd be a start!

The dung beetle flinches a little bit at the talk, its weight shifting back and forth, as it gauges the situation. "Questions? questions. No...no, we should wait for the Queen. Yes...yes, yes yes. Talk to her. " It chirrups a little bit as it moves about all antsy, skittering up to a high pipe that was left sticking out for some reason.

From the barely-open hatch, a lower, grumbling voice, that might be more akin to Oscar the Grouch, proclaims, "Not the Queen." Apparently some part of a missed conversation from earlier.

Stool chirrups again, "The queen. And then we will hear. And we will do, again." From his high point, he lifts his head up, as if listening for something. After several seconds he slips off the pipe a bit, to hang upside down, but a bit closer to Arcee and Punch's height, for talking.

Arcee frowns in frustration. It's times like these that she wishes she had some extra.../something/, to draw from. "You sure you can't open the you-know-what? Is it locked down tight?" she whispers to Punch. She turns back toward Stool. "Look, this is really important. And when your Queen comes back, you can confirm all of this. I'm not going to tell you anything that isn't the truth," she says. "We don't really have a lot of spare space here. It might not be a suitable area for the, um...for the /space/ you're seeking to make your hive adequate. It's a serious problem, and I don't want to see you all waste a lot of work in a project you may not be able to finish."

For a moment, Arcee may wistfully wish she had something/someone else able to do this job.

Meanwhile back on Cybertron, Elita One still rests in state, stuck in an endless moment of agony incomparable.

Looks like there are no easy ways out...

Punch smiles a little more brightly and gently clasps Arcee's shoulder for a moment. He whispers "I've got this. Trust me." Punch then turns from Arcee, steps forward and upward using his flight systems to stand so his eyeline is above that of the insecticon. Hovering with the commanding posture and presense of one who once taught him Punch speaks.

Well projected, warm, friendly but every word an order. Every gesture an instruction best interpreted and followed precisely, "I am Punch, someone who shoulders burdens so others do not have to. There isn't an Autobot, Smokescreen included, who's life I wouldn't give my own to protect. If you can speak with anyone. If there's one with which your trust is safe... it's me." Punch says more normally as he continues, "So, lets try to move forwards together here. Answer Arcee's questions please as, for everything I am, she's even better a person again than I."

 Stool says, "My Queen?"

 Serenity says, "Hrmm?"

 Glowbug says, "What was that?"

 Stool says, "The Queen is here!"

 Knock Knock says, "....may be the Queen."

 Arcee says, "Yes, my name's Arcee, I need to speak with you. About the hive under construction."

Well THAT got some attention! The Feral Insecticons chirp at each other over the Autobot channel...which still hasn't really been figured out why they can do that. Soon after Punch's words, nine heads poke their way out of the hive, all of them transfixed by the display of leadership and power. Even Knock Knock's trapdoor opens up, the skeptical Insecticon looking interested.

Stool, startled, transforms from his position, which causes him to fall onto his back, where he lays for several moments, trying to right himself with difficulty. Its tough being a fireplug of a Decepticon.

He looks most enamored with Punch, and then by proxy Arcee. After all, if someone displaying such majesty was deferring to another...

They start to talk to each other again, whispered words.

"says she wants us to move?"

".....no, to seek space."

"Lots of space here, soon, large hive."

"Great hive for the Queen."

"Queen at last...."

Arcee gives Punch a wide-opticed look of complete surprise. Perhaps the very act of carrying around the Matrix was enough to be rubbing off on him!

Or...maybe she's capable of the same kind of diplomacy, and she's been too busy stressing out about the big, bleak picture to focus on much else.

As the Insecticons converse amongst themselves, Arcee murmurs quietly to Punch, "Well done. We can't really kick them out -- it would cause more trouble than it would solve -- but, I'm thinking a short relocation is in order. We'd need to look at some geological maps, but it's possible there's a cavernous region close to here that would be suitable for this group, and close enough to keep tabs on them regularly. Looks like they seem to prefer your brand of diplomacy, so I'll try to echo that same tone."

Okay. That seemed to have an effect to the good. Punch notes to himself. It's not a usual thing. He's used to working in the dark. Not lighting it up. He can see good it does though. That's all that matters. Smiling brightly he murmurs to Arcee, "Okay, it went a bit better than I expected... honestly. We'll get an understanding sorted out." Punch chuckles and quitely adds, "Although we're debriefing before anyone else hears of this." Primarily as he's not letting the nickname Queen stick. This is mission critical.

Turning to the assembled insecticons Punch says with the full orchestra of his vocaliser playing the words, "You can all hear me? Good. What I speak of is this. Safety. There are many dangers in this world, both by word and deed, and I want you all to come to no harm. To do that where your hive is a critically important thing. It needs to be close enough so you can grow and live in synergy with the world but not so close that it encroaches upon the home of others." Punch looks to Autobot City and then To the human City of San Francisco. "Balance. So, I wil find this haven for you. When I do you shall move there to live in balance with your surroundings. You will be protected. I promise you. I will return. You will move to your new haven. Are we all clear?"

The Ferals regard Punch and Arcee's words, looking from one to the other. One of the two fireflies, this one with a distinctly mech voice, queries "You speak for the Queen?" The group regards themselves, their antenna twitching, under this noted apprehension of their moving from their new home.

"Eat, Survive, Thrive"

"...is safer here."

"Cannot doubt the Queen"

"....doesn't speak to us right..."

The other firefly clacks her mandibles, as she 'gets it'. "Swarm. New home."

And from there, there is the murmur of agreement. To swarm, to settle another home, where there is more food, to spread, and survive.

Knock Knock grumbles, "...cannot *hear* her. Does not talk right."

More antenna twitch as they assess Arcee, as they consent to follow.

Stool meekly looks up at the two, the airborne Punch, and the new Queen, Arcee. "We need it...please, please, we will do good. We will do as you command, our Queen. we ask...we beg, to please give us back our voice. our Hivemind..."