Visiting the Grand Canyon



-

From: Amber MacKenzie                                         (Conn)

Date: Thu Sep 06 21:59:14 2012   Folder:  0   Message: 100

Status: Read

Subject: Findings

-

After the events of September 4 (see attached file http://transformers2005.wikia.com/wiki/Malpractice), I made a side trip to the Swordfish today to follow up on the investigation into Dr. Strardigarvarius's dastardly doings. The sets of vials I found on his body were exactly what we deduced: various diseases and their cures, and they're grateful for our warning to check them out under quarantine protocols. Heaven knows how many people have died because of this man's greed; he may be the biggest mass murderer in galactic history.

He had a PDA, but it's password-protected. They're working on it, but they haven't yet broken the code. They did trace his bank account to the planet Knabeht, but the bank officials refuse to divulge any information on any of his transactions.

Lastly, the security camera footage doesn't show much, thanks to the semi-opaque walls of the containment unit. They can't really tell what's going on, other than some kind of scuffle. Ironclad proof of Dr. Death's attempts to kill us is no longer an option, but neither will it be of much use for prosecuting any of us for Strardigarvarious' accidental but very timely death.

Strauchlor's Reaving, the disease with which General Faireborn was infected, is a designer disease, and Dr. Strardigarvarius had NO ACCESS to Marissa at the time she was infected. In the aftermath of the Long Night, no one BUT the EDC could have known where she was. This means that a member of the EDC contacted Strardigarvarius to get the disease, either directly or through intermediaries. There's no other way she could have gotten it.

-

Arizona

The Grand Canyon state consists of terrain from the high desert plateau in the northern and eastern sections to the desert basins and jagged mountain ranges in the southern and western parts, broken only by the high, forested mountains in central Arizona. The spectacular Grand Canyon, for which the state is best known, displays its timeless beauty close to the border between Arizona and its northern neighbor, Utah. To the south are the major cities of Phoenix and Tucson, irrigation from the Colorado and Salt Rivers making them green oases in the southern desert.

Contents:

Arizona State University

Grand Canyon

Obvious exits:

Fly  leads to Skies above the Western United States.

South  leads to Mexico.

Out  leads to Southwestern States.

Nevada  California 

Groove has arrived.

Marissa Faireborn has arrived.

Grand Canyon

Cut into raw rock by the Colorado River, the Grand Canyon is one of the wonders of the world, its multicolored layers of rock recording millions of years of geologic time. The northern rim is forested, and numerous lookout points on both rims provide its many visitors with spectacular views of buttes, mesas, and gorges of every shade of pink, orange, and brown as far as the eye can see. Trails for the more adventurous wind down from the rim to the bottom of the gorge, where both professional guides and amateurs brave the Colorado's muddy waters in white-water river rafts.

First Aid folds down into Ambulance mode.

Groove transforms into his police motorcycle mode. Changes his whole perspective, man.

Ambulance  needed to get away from Autobot City, the Swordfish, and all the other troubles going on lately. He had a suspicion that Groove did too... for some mysterious reason that we won't go into. Also, First Aid was eager to ensure his favorite patient was feeling better after months of being couped up in hospital beds. Thus, here we are, driving down the highway towards the Grand Canyon to experience /America/. Was Marissa in the climate controlled, faux leather seat, radio station equipped battle ambulance? Or was she riding Groove like a Harley down a bad stretch of road?

"I'm like, feeling a lot better! Not sitting in a dark room with a possibly sinister force for 6 hours is sooo much better than sitting in a dark room with a possibly sinister force for 6 hours!" Groove vrooms along beside First Aid, always at his best on the open road, possibly carrying Marissa.

Marissa Faireborn had ridden in First Aid for the first 100 miles until they were well and away out of the big city and away from any known population. Then after asking to stop for a bathroom break, she jumped onto Groove, pulled on a helmet and a leather jacket, then rode on him for the sheer thrill of it for just getting out in the hot sun, the dust, the wind and the feel of an engine between her legs and under her. She still wasn't 100 percent and she would probably ask to switch out again at some point but for now, she was just enjoying her time.

Amber MacKenzie has arrived.

Amber MacKenzie has come along mostly because she's become something of a secretary/receptionist for the General, and partly because she wanted to talk to First Aid about Dr. Violen. What a sickening excuse for a man he was... She can barely get her mind around the extent of his evil. So much for a pleasant outing, though she does appreciate getting outdoors for a while.

"Yeah, it's good to finally get out under an open sky," First Aid replies. As it turns out, Aid is already talking about that despicable alien 'doctor'. "This Strardigarvarius guy was a real piece of work, Groove. Remember the plague on Odessix's moon a few hundred thousand years ago? /That/ was the Strauchlor's Reaving disease. All the work of one guy looking to make a buck. I mean no way was profit his only motive. There's easier ways to make money that /don't/ involve horrible deaths for... how many did we estimate it was, Amber?" he asks his passenger.

BMW R1200RT-P Police Motorcycle  sighs. "See, that's why all businesses should be non profit, you know?" Yeah that made no sense at all. "Earth Admiral Faireborn, how are you feeling? I bet it feels awesome to be back on the open road."

Amber MacKenzie shrugs morosely. "He mentioned planets, plural, and even one planet would be millions. I'd guestimate in the billions for multiple planets over that length of time. Hmm. He had an impressively long life span for an organic. They'll know for sure when they crack his PDA. I'm tempted to hire someone to hack that alien banking planet Knabeht, but I doubt a hacker would know the ins and outs of alien security methods. Whatever wealth that person has should be distributed to his victims, even though it'd be a drop in the bucket compared to the harm he's done."

"Yeah, totally," First Aid replies to Groove. He knows it didn't make sense but it's best to just agree with the mech on things like this. The last thing anyone wants is the hippy speech. "I bet Streetwise could do it," the Protectobot says. "Not that I'm advocating hacking into a bank or anything, but if anyone can figure out their system and get it to work in our favour, it's him." Up ahead one can make out the turn off for the canyon itself. There's a bunch of parked cars and winnebagos (none flaming), with families and other tourists strolling about.

"Damn!" Amber suddenly exclaims. "I knew I'd forgotten something... Your EDC spy, First Aid, I was going to try to get access to the Swordfish's security cameras and trace his movements. We might even get a name, depending on how good they are. You'd think they'd use top-notch security in this kind of situation."

Marissa Faireborn looks down at Groove. She's just holding onto the handlebars and letting him drive. "It feels wonderful. Thank you for letting me ride." She still had energy her radio was patched into what First Aid and Amber are saying. But she remains quiet for now.

"Oh?" First Aid didn't even think of that. Normally Streetwise handles things like that... he'd also be the one navigating, which would have prevented him and Groove from getting lost a half dozen times so far on the way to the canyon. First Aid pulls over to the side, entering the parking lot. A police motorcyle ridden by someone apparently isn't a police officer and an ambulance? Yes, they get some stares. "I thought we'd never have a chance to find out who it was. Has the Swordfish's crew been cooperating?" Given Dr. Violin's demise, they have reason to be apprehensive.

"The pleasure is all mine! It's not every day a simple scout gets to transport the Prime Minister of Humans around!" He turns off road, just before First Aid chooses the parking lot, towards the canyons. "Man. These views..." He sighs a bit. "I love this place. And if you don't mind me asking, what happened to you? Were you like, sick or something?"

Marissa Faireborn blinks, 'Prime...minister...of humans?' She thinks this to herself though she smiles. "Yes, I was sick with the Strauchlor's Reaving disease. It had somehow gotten into my water supply or I'd drank it at some time in a liquid. He infected only me and made it so only I was sick..."

"If I can spin it right... and even truthfully," Amber muses. "As a potential tie-in with the late doctor, and I actually believe that's the case, they may widen their investigation. However, that may tip off the bad guys." She looks over at Marissa on her police motorcycle. "It would at least give us corroboration from an *outside* authority. Shall we go for it, ma'am?"

Groove's mention of the views finally gets Amber to actually look at them, and it takes her breath away. Though she's seen the Grand Canyon before, it was over ten years ago, and she was just a snotty teenager then. "Gorgeous..."

Marissa Faireborn shifts a little though she remains seated on Groove and looks at Amber's direction, "I think we should do whatever it takes to get the upper hand, to get as much information as possible and to try and put these pieces together to get a better picture of the 'big' picture of what's really going on."

Ambulance  doesn't even bat a headlight at the title Groove gives Marissa. Coming to a stop, First Aid opens his door to let Amber out. They're here! "Not that I'm complaining of course given how important it is to help Dr. Violen's victims, but do you worry about your neutrality as a journalist?" Aid's so distracted by the conversation that he hasn't fully taken in the view just yet.

BMW R1200RT-P Police Motorcycle  flickers his sirens, questioning. "Who's reaving disease? And you drank it? Someone tried to poison you?" He pauses, and then, to himself... "I need to pay more attention..."

Marissa Faireborn chuckles softly, "Its all right. It was the big alien doctor that Hardhead killed up at the Swordfish when they'd taken me up there to get the vaccine. They found out he'd infected me actually some time ago or perhaps he'd sold the virus to someone to infect me with. And I probably got infected with it by drinking infected water or from a cup infected with it. Who knows at this point Groove. What matters is that I'm better now."

Amber MacKenzie slips out of the old-fashioned but very comfortable ambulance and stares out over the layered geological history that is just one aspect of the Grand Canyon. Even after closing her eyes, the afterimage still flickers in her retinas. Opening her eyes again, she sighs and smiles dreamily. She needed that. A bit more chipper now, she turns back towards the others, still smiling. "I'm not writing a story on this, First Aid. I'm just looking to investigate it. If I *do* publish a story, it'll be because it's needed for the war effort, not because I need the money."

"And thank the interconnectedness of all things for that!" Groove exclaims. "First Aid! Did you *hear* about this? Prime Minister Fairborn was *poisoned!*"

Blades has arrived.

Ambulance  transforms into robot mode. There are tons of gasps and fingers pointed in his direction from the other tourists. They came for one awe inspiring sight and now they're getting two. Three if Groove transforms. To Groove, Aid explains for the thirty-fourth time, "Yes, I know, I was there when all this was figured out and Marissa was finally cured." Aid cannot express his relief at that given the way Marissa was drifting away from them and Aid was so far out of his league. To Amber, Aid says, "Speaking of which, I guess we won't have to pay Dr. Violin's outrageous fee after all." Aid kneels down in order to pull out their picnic from his knees-trunk.

Blades transforms into his Bell UH-1 Iroquois  mode.

Ambulance  flips up into robot mode.

Marissa Faireborn climbs off of Groove so he can transform as well and takes the helmet off. "Groove, hon...he knows. He was there treating me."

BMW R1200RT-P Police Motorcycle  flickers his lights, satisfied with Marissa and First Aid's response. "Well, just glad you're better, Prime Minister." Groove goes quiet for a minute, and then an odd smoke starts to trickle out of his exhaust. "Man. Sunsets are like the sun got small and crashed on the planet, but like, instead of fire and pain there's just like...colors."

Bell UH-1 Iroquois  somehow missed the memo that there was going to be a Protectobot fieldtrip! Probably because there was no memo. However, First Aid is pretty recognisable, even from the air. The Huey peels off from his current route, hovering closer to the picnic. What are those nerds up to now?

Marissa Faireborn looks up at the sound of an approaching Huey. She looks around then at the people who are here to play tourist who are starting to panic.

The crowd is still watching them. Most have put two and two together and realized that if the ambulance was First Aid, the motorcycle is probably Groove. Once they see the helicopter they might /really/ start to be awed (or be terrified). Aid gets out the fold-up picnic table, the table cloth, a big tuperware full of sandwhiches, energon sticks, a barrel of oil, and a couple folding chairs. This is a ~fancy~ picnic. Gazing off at the sunset, First Aid nods, "Yeah, it's really something. The neat thing is how every planet's sunset is all subtly different. Even Cybertron has one now." Sort of. Binary star system. At the sound of rotor blades, First Aid looks upwards.

Amber MacKenzie spares another glance for the Grand Canyon before the sound of a nearby helicopter captures her attention. Frowning, she looks around and locates the approaching Huey. Out comes the pistol, but she holds her fire until she can identify it. Per EDC records, this is another Protectobot, so she relaxes and puts the weapon away. Good thing she was standing by First Aid, or the crowd might have panicked on seeing *her*. "If the doctor actually cured her, it'd be worth it," she comments.

Bell UH-1 Iroquois  isn't covered in knives! /That/ would be a good reason to be afraid of him, but he's just a normal red and white medevac Huey! ...okay, so he has some rockets. Only cowards are afraid of rockets. If Blades can see Amber's pistol from his altitude, he doesn't give a flip. He hovers over them, trying to decide if he wants to land, and if so, how he wants to tackle this. Landing on the edge of a canyon in a crowded area is maybe not the brightest idea.

BMW R1200RT-P Police Motorcycle <Groove> laughs when Amber draws a bead on Blades. "Man. And they call me paranoid! Hey Blades! Watch out for the sun, it's falling into the horizon, man!" After a moment, he reassures Blades: "Not really. There's nothing to be alarmed about."

Marissa Faireborn goes over to help First Aid put the table cloth on the folding table and set up chairs. She's looking a little tired from her trip but she can only shake her head at Groove. She's only had a little experience with him before and looks up at First Aid, "Have you tried to figure out what makes him the way he is? Is he on something?"

First Aid waves to Blades as he descends. As this isn't a particularly abnormal sight for him, the Protectobot goes back to setting up the picnic. As he does, he notices Amber putting away her weapon. That genuinely shocks him. The Amber from a year ago wouldn't have pulled a weapon upon seeing a helicopter. He doesn't comment on it, though, instead giving Marissa an appreciative nod for helping her with the cloth. "Legally I can neither confirm nor deny any of Groove's, uh, medication." Quick, quick! Change the subject! "So, Blades, what brings you here?"

Bell UH-1 Iroquois <Blades> makes the choice to transform over the canyon itself, drops into the canyon as a robot, and reach out and grab the rock wall. It's better than accidentally landing on Amber, right? Blades grunts as he pulls himself back up the rock wall, climbs over the edge, and joins the... picnic? He looks at Amber and Marissa, looks around, and comments, "This is a /really/ insecure location. Anyway, I was out looking for some lost rafters, but they got found by a different team before I got to them, so I was heading back to base."

Bell UH-1 Iroquois <Blades> transforms into his Blades mode.

Amber MacKenzie is a bit... jumpy about helicopters suddenly appearing. She knows who to blame for that. No harm done, and though this is indeed an insecure location, she expects each and every Protectobot to be willing to die to defend General Faireborn. First Aid, she already knows is willing.

"It's /supposed/ to be unsecure," First Aid tells Blades. "We're out on a road trip to see middle America during a truce that the Decepticons have actually been fairly willing to honour. If we can't assume to be safe now, I don't know when we can." First Aid fills up a jerry can from the oil barrel and tosses it over to Blades. It might not be as strong as he's used to, mind you.

Marissa Faireborn raises an eyebrow at First Aid's statement bout Groove's 'medications' and knows a 'diversionary' tactic when she hears one, thus leaving it alone for now. She watches Blades transform and climb up and settle near the table. She sets out sandwiches for her and Amber while First Aid offers a drink to Blades. She looks over at the sunset and takes a slow, even breath of the fresh air.

Blades would, eh, /kill/ to defend Marissa. That's close enough, right? Now, put First Aid and/or Groove in danger as well as Marissa, and then Blades would definitely be willing to make an ex-Blades of himself in their defense. He catches the can, takes a swig, and remarks, "This is sure some tepid-aft fuel, First Aid," but he's smiling. It's not like Blades expects First Aid to have the /good/ stuff. He thinks a moment and asks quietly, "And it's really the Decepticons brekaing the truce you're worried about, right now?"

Amber MacKenzie hmphs. "If they're not breaking it two seconds before it's scheduled to end. If they thought they could get away with it, I'm sure they'd even try during the Olympics, but this is a pretty public place to get away with it." She takes a chicken salad sandwich with a nod of thanks to Marissa and tears it in half. A bite out of one half doesn't leave her choking in her own blood, so she hands the other to Marissa with a smirk.

"Well we're driving," First Aid explains. Aid takes a seat and considers Blades's question. "You mean Cross, right? Hmm. Ok, lets say you are Franklin Cross and you deliberately infected Marissa Faireborn with Dr. Violin's help. We'll assume that putting yourself in charge of the EDC is the motive. Now you know that she's been cured and you know that Dr. Violin was killed by Hardhead. You're going to assume the worst and figure we know all about the doctor's crimes. What would you do next, Franklin?" he asks the others.

Marissa Faireborn looks over at Amber with a smile, "Maybe you could see if Sideswipe can share or give some of his high-grade to Blades when we get back?" She laughs softly at Ambers action but she's used to it now and then takes the half of the sandwich she didn't eat and takes a bit of it herself. "So First Aid, do you think that someone can recover from the Reaving disease on their own without the vaccine? I guess I'm curious as to why I would get better, then I would get sick within hours or a day of Cross visiting me? I mean, without the drugs I was on at the hospital, it took a couple of weeks for me to slowly digress.."

Bladesstares at First Aid and rubs the back of his helmet and static-coughs. Then he mutters, "Well. Uh. If I was Franklin Cross? I'd just erm... kill all the witnesses." Blades shrugs, takes another swig of his drink, and looks off at the sunset. Sure is pretty, right?

As the conversation takes a very serious turn, Amber's mood does as well. "*If* the mystery man is reporting to Cross, then Cross obviously knows. What next? Well, something to keep in mind, and it's rather strange, is that Cross is *apparently* reluctant to kill the General. He's gone through quite a few hoops to keep her alive but out of the way, and I'd love to know why, but that's not something we're like to figure out on so few clues. He might come after me, since I've annoyed him, though I've done a bit of sucking up to try to mitigate his annoyance." She has to shake her head at herself. She feels more comfortable around and trusting of Cyclonus than Franklin Cross.

To Marissa, First Aid explains, "I think you'd feel bad after taking the drugs due to their side effects. While you felt better without them, it would have been temporary. Sort of like what happened once we relocated you to Autobot City. As for Cross visiting you... well, that I don't really know yet." At Blades's comment, Aid shakes his head, "Which witnesses? That'd be a /ton/ of people." The Protectobot finds himself nodding at Amber's theories. "Having Marissa killed unprovoked might just be a line he's unwilling to cross." Pause. "No pun intended."

Blades admits, looking shifty, "Yes. Yes, it would be a ton of people." He pauses and then adds, "All of them. If I was Franklin Cross and I was making Marissa sick to steal her job."

Marissa Faireborn eats more of her sandwich and takes a sip out of a sealed bottle of water that had been freshly opened. "Ok, so...here's a question. Do you think the virus would have shown up in other ways in my body, like say...my hair? As it grew out. With humans who are poisoned with arsnic, it shows up as their hair grows out. You can test their hair in pieces to see how far back they've been poisoned and how often. Do you think the virus could be detected in something like that, meaning like a change in my body chemistry?"

"But that's... what, us, Marissa, Amber, Hardhead, Duros, anyone who had contact with Strardigarvarius, anyone else in his circle who would have known... No way would be he capable of that." Aid raises a hand real quick, "And I don't mean morally capable, either." Aid hesitates before answering Marissa, "To be honest, I don't know. Strauchlor's Reaving couldn't be cured by some of the galaxy's finest minds, and we still know so little about it. I'm hopeful that once Strardigarvarius's pad is unlocked we might get some more clues. We have plenty of samples from when you were ill, though."

Marissa Faireborn frowns a little and sighs softly. She looks up at Blades, "So how have things been for you? It's been some time since I last saw you."

Blades stretches a bit and sits down in a clear spot, cross-legged. He slouches a bit. Blades takes another swig of his fuel, "Uh, you know. Fighting Decepticons. Rescuing people. Usual stuff. Did get to suplex Bruticus recently - well, Defensor did. Anyway, First Aid, I'm just telling you what /I/ would do. What would /you/ do, Mister Smarty Tyres?"

First Aid takes a sip from his own jerry can. "Hmm. Well, I guess it depends on how much I trust my flunkies. My biggest worry would probably be whatever's on that datapad since that's our best chance to actually prove that Dr. Violen and Cross are connected in any way. So I guess I'd destroy it and hope nobody was able to prove I was involved. Maybe even set up some false evidence to suggest that Strardigarvarius acted alone. It's what he normally does, apparently, and he isn't here to argue otherwise."

Amber MacKenzie reminds, "It's a bacterial infection, not a poison or virus. Unless Cross was entirely wrong about it... I never did check that out. First Aid? Did you identify the cause? Cross said it was a bacteria with similarities to a parasite. And that is an *excellent* point that I'll transmit to the Swordfish security people. Maybe warn them that the Doctor may have had collaborators in the security force, too, so they'll be on their toes."

"Bacterial, yeah," First Aid confirms. He beams at Blades as Amber says that /his/ point was excellent. Mr. Smarty Tyres indeed!

Blades deadpans, "First Aid, never go evil. You'd be too good at it." Then he shoots First Aid a sober look. "Seriously."

Marissa Faireborn remains quiet as she eats, only nodding at Blades as he responds to her question.

"Well I do try to excel in my work," First Aid replies in a completely serious voice. "I don't know if I'm really cut out for he life of crime, though."

Amber MacKenzie wonders sometimes if she should join the Wreckers. She's not a hero like First Aid. No, she's perfectly willing to kill Decepticons from ambush and without mercy. In fact, she recalls not too long ago when she was looking to kill an unconscious targetmaster Nebulan. And she likes Pug. He reminds her of Hellsing's Alucard. "Sometimes, an evil mind can be used to forecast what the bad guys might do."

Blades shifts a bit uncomfortably and says, "Uh huh, sure. Just... don't lose sight of why you're on this side? I guess." He finishes his drink and crushes the can - in a neat fashion, so as to make it easier to load it into a recycling bin. It's 50/50 whether Blades will actually recycle it or if he'll later try to kill a Decepticon with the crushed can.

First Aid is willing to ambush Decepticons! But would prefer to take them captive if at all possible. "Wonder if he'll make his move before or after the Geneva Convention discussion," he muses. +tpinfo for details, folks. "Assuming he /is/ behind it all, anyway."

Amber MacKenzie shrugs. "I spoke with Elita yesterday about it because I suspect either Cross or the Decepticons will try to bomb or attack the hearing. Cross, to frame the Decepticons and support his position, and the Decepticons, to frame Cross and promote the division in the EDC. Heaven help us if they both try."

First Aid hmms, "That... does sound likely. /Really/ likely. I'll talk to Rodimus and see if we can't beef up security. A division of Autobots would stop any bombing attempts, I bet."

Amber MacKenzie looks back at Blades and belatedly answers, "I don't like what I've had to do, but I'd do it again. It's easy to kill people who've wronged me or my species, but I *do* know that they aren't all evil, just most of them." Looking back at First Aid, she nods, then frowns again. "Beware of an attempt to frame you guys, too. It's a murky mess, having a bunch of bigwigs all in one place."

Blades's personal problem is that he /does/ like what he's done. A lot. That's why he tries to be careful to be sure that he's at least doing it for the right reason. But he's not going to admit that right now. "Or they'll just blame us for stirring up tensions by coming out in force."

First Aid has killed his share of Decepticons in battle, and it's always a distasteful, agonizing thing. So much for getting away from all your worries, Aid muses as he watches the sun start to pass under the horizon. "I'm not worried about them framing us. If they do that we'll just sic our best investigative reporter on the job."

Amber MacKenzie arches a brow. "Good for you, Blades. They could do that, too. So many possibilities... I'd hate to be on the U.N. security detail that day. All we can do is try to have a plan in advance for each possibility, so you can react according to what does happen." She has to chuckle at First Aid's flattery. "Not anymore, luv. I'm with the General now. Not to mention that I'd fear for my life every time I leave Autobot City, and not from the Decepticons this time. Them, I can deal with more easily; they have that convenient brand logo on them, and they can easily overlook someone of my size. Human assassins, though... I may have some combat experience, but I can't pick one of them out of thousands."

Blades looks down at Amber and asks hopefully, "Y'wanna work on your knife skills? We could hit the sim room back at Autobot City, maybe use it to simulate you being bigger or me being smaller?"

First Aid will also check with Hot Spot to see if the Protectobots can be assigned to guard duty. They'd think twice about messing around with the meeting with Defensor standing outside. "So what is your and Marissa's plans, anyway? Now that she's back in good health are you both planning to return to the EDC?"

Amber MacKenzie has to giggle at Blades. "I prefer a pistol, but thanks. More seriously, I'd find it harder to kill another human beings, which I know doesn't say good things about me. Or maybe I just don't like the sight of blood. Or don't want to get up close and personal with someone trained in martial arts and who is probably stronger than I am."

First Aid's question is grounds for narrowed, speculative eyes. "What, make it easy for Cross to get at us? No, I'd argue strongly against that. The General might come down with another case of Strauchlor's Reaver. And remember the Men in Black, First Aid. They're probably some kind of enforcers for Cross."

Blades grins somewhat unpleasantly when Amber says she doesn't like blood, and he scoffs, "What's not to like about blood? It's red, like my paint! And it goes splash! And it gets all stiiiicky. And it's /so/ hard to wash out of things." Blades snickers. "But seriously, all you're saying is that you've got trouble killing your own kind. That you don't /really/ think of us as being people the way humans are. But you know what? You keep at it long enough, and you won't think of /anyone/ as people." Blades pauses and rubs the back of his helmet and admits, "...that's maybe not the right way to go about it, either."

"Well what about if you convinced the UN to give Marissa her job back so she'd be running the place?" First Aid asks. "I thought Cross was just the temporary leader anyway until she recovered. I'm pretty sure the EDC likes her way more than they like Cross." Pause. "Though I guess that goes for anyone." Aid finds himself nodding at Blades's point, wondering what Amber's reaction will be.

Amber MacKenzie shakes her head. "Not quite true. I simply have a bias in favor of my own kind that I need to work on. Plus, the only people I've killed were Decepticons who were trying to kill me. Some human guy comes at me with a knife, and if I have the chance, I'll shoot him without hesitation. Then I'll get sick. Then it'll be easier the next time. However strange it sounds, I made my peace with myself over killing Decepticons by seeing them as people, the opposite of what you suggested, Blades. And by mourning them and the necessity of killing them, evil or not. They aren't all evil."

"And regarding Marissa's job, almost the entirety of the U.N. Security Council delightedly voted in favor of Cross because they like his style. There were three against: Israel, Japan, and Germany, who have reason to recall World War II and Adolf Hitler rather well. Something is going on behind the scenes, but I don't know what. Why would they support an unknown en mass? There's something they know, all of them, that we don't, and it bothers me."

Spike Witwicky was last connected on Sun Jul 29 10:20:29 2012; that was 44d 10h 12m 38s ago.

First Aid is silent for a few moments, mulling this over. Countries never agree on /anything/, so that they'd agree on this is darn near impossible sounding. Finally, he suggests, "I wonder if Spike could help us. He used to be Secretary General, right? He probably has all sorts of contacts behind the scenes that he could reach out to." Aid isn't comfortable with the way Amberh as gotten so used to the idea of killing, but he's seen this sort of thing many times before.

Blades laughs over Amber's reply. Maybe there was a time, a very long time ago, when Blades was scared sick of the thought of killing another Transformer. When it upset him. When shooting someone a mile away with a rocket was difficult and left him shaking for days after. But if there was, that was a very long time ago. And then it got easier. Shooting someone down the hall. Shooting someone pointblank. Stabbing someone. Then it got to be /too/ easy. Blades is lucky, though. He has a good team to keep him from wavering /too/ far off the straight and narrow.

As long as they pay attention to him. Blades totally got away with giving Scorn an evil handshake because First Aid wasn't looking.

"Never attribute to conspiracy what you can attribute to stupidity. Sure you aren't overthinking all of this?"

Amber MacKenzie shrugs. "I haven't seen Spike in months. He could be helpful, yes, but he could be a target, too, if he steps in. If he wants in, he needs to understand that. And General Faireborn is also a former Secretary-General. Hmmm. Maybe that's a line the Security Council would refuse to cross, and that's why she wasn't killed outright. Oh well, all conjecture at this point."

She peers up at Blades. "What, everything isn't a conspiracy?" She shrugs again. "Could be, but I doubt it. I have a contact who said that one of the council members was pressured into agreeing, and that he feared for his life if he told me any more. And while I think that the galaxy is littered with idiots, I don't think that was the reason why they voted as they did. Even without Cross's... interesting character, they were eager to strike back at the Decepticons. Fear and revenge aren't uncommon motivations."

"I dunno, is this picnic a conspiracy?" Blades deadpans, gesturing at the gathering. He touches the side of his head and seems to be listening to something. Then Blades excuses, "More lost rafters. Gotta go." He jumps off the side off the cliff and transforms into a helicopter before he hits the bottom, choppering back up into the air.

"But come on," First Aid says, "Who can pressure so many nations on Earth without everybody knowing about it? I don't know, it just seems beyond Cross's capabilities. Maybe someone /else/ is manipulating things. Like, I don't know, the Quintessons or something." They're behind 50% of the mysteries the Transformers face so this seems plausible. As Blades leaves, First Aid stands up and waves. "Later!"

Amber MacKenzie holds up a single finger. "Only one was pressured. The rest were only too eager to get revenge, and while I'm disappointed with them, I can understand their point. But they *know* about Cross and chose him specifically to carry out their revenge." She doesn't mention that she's got an agent trying to find out more. "Sadly, we *don't* know about him. His records, at least those publicly accessible, are incomplete and sanitized. Yes, I looked." She waves casually as the helicopter flies away to save the day.

First Aid has no idea how Amber is so sure about all this. "Really? I took a look and I didn't see anything weird." First Aid is not, lets be clear, any good at investigating anything like this. Once again this is where Streetwise has to do all the work for the Protectobots. "What kind of gaps?"

Amber MacKenzie looks disgusted. "It's the same kind of information you'd get off the Internet. Unreliable and incomplete." She eyes the Protectobot. "You *are* aware that the Internet is not the Oracle of Delphi? Any idiot can and does post a webpage, but you have to remember that there's no error checking, and people frequently lie."

"Well no," First Aid replies. Not since Victory Leo showed him that one webpage, anyway. "It wasn't just online I was checking, but I'll take your word for it. Any ideas on how to find out more about his past?" Curses Streetwise, where are you when we /actually need you/?

Amber MacKenzie snorts and looks even more disgusted. "If I hadn't been so outraged by you lot being classified as subhuman, I would've had the sense to keep my mouth shut and do my investigations clandestintely. First thing would have been to use my access to look at his EDC records. Lost opportunities... I tried to persuade an existing officer, but he refused." Curse you again, Bailey! "Do you know any hackers?"

Chromedome was last connected on Fri Jul 06 22:46:48 2012; that was 66d 22h 51m 44s ago.

"Streetwise is pretty good at systems like that," First Aid says. Streetwise's reputation is so great because he never shows up to work so you don't get to see him act like a spaz. "But since Chromedome is off world, I'd say Brainstorm is your best bet. Arcana is a certified genius. You're not seriously thinking about hacking into the EDC databanks, are you?"

Amber MacKenzie is looking into it, but she's not telling First Aid that. "Hmmm... Maybe. If it's all aboveboard, then what does he have to hide?" Though she doesn't expect anything more than what the public records show. No, it takes a *real* hacker dude to slice through the spam and find the real core of it all."

"That's terrible justification for illegally searching his records," First Aid points out. The sun has finally set over the grand canyon and most of the tourists have packed it up. A few took pictures of both the canyon and the Protectobots. "I know we managed to get away with sneaking into an EDC hospital, but you've really got to be careful about your legal standing, Amber. Franklin wouldn't hesitate to put you behind bars if he got the chance."

Amber MacKenzie points out, "I don't go out often for that reason and more. Rodimus never did tell Faireborn and me what he paid for our freedom, so we can't know if it's enough. Personally, I think Cross's Men in Black will pick us up if we show our faces unguarded. Sooooo, behind bars is a given, though it'd be funny to see him go up against my Mum. Since I suspect that we'd disappear into a cozy little cell in the middle of a desert, that's not very likely." That's a grim prediction, but she says it matter-of-factly. "Did I ever mention that I prefer infiltrating Decepticon bases to this bloody civil war?"

First Aid shifts uncomfortably. "I don't blame you. At least with the Decepticons it's just a straight up fight. You know which side of the battlefield everyone stands. This whole affair with Cross, though, is... well, if you don't mind my saying, Amber, starting to make you a little paranoid." He's glad he got her out here, at least, even if the sight of a helicopter put her a bit on edge. "I hope you aren't offended if I say that I'm still not 100% convinced that he's guilty of anything other than being a meany."

Amber MacKenzie hmphs and then chuckles. "Yes, I'm paranoid. I've had to act as the sole defender of alien rights and the only person who thought Faireborn's absence was *highly* suspicious for six weeks, fearing for my life, fearing for my world, and fearing for my commander. I'm happy to admit that I was way out of my depth. Despite all that, I did the best I could, and now Marissa Faireborn is free to take up her duties. With her on her feet, I'm not responsible for everything any more, and I can relax a bit, though I'm keeping the paranoia until the civil war is over."

She eyes the Autobot with some exasperation. "You *still* aren't convinced? Strauchlor's Reaving, First Aid. An engineered disease transmitted not by bodily fluids but by injection. How'd Marissa get it? Who had access to her? The EDC *only*. That disease doesn't occur naturally, as you should recall. Someone with big bucks bought it and used it on her. Next point. Whenever she seemed to be getting better, Franklin would visit, and she would suffer a relapse. Now, to your recollection, is that how the disease worked on your moon? I doubt it. I believe that Franklin had her injected with another dose to cause her relapse. Cause and effect. Simple logic."

You paged Repugnus with 'Amber MacKenzie hmphs and then chuckles. "Yes, I'm paranoid. I've had to act as the sole defender of alien rights and the only person who thought Faireborn's absence was *highly* suspicious for six weeks, fearing for my life, fearing for my world, and fearing for my commander. I'm happy to admit that I was way out of my depth. Despite all that, I did the best I could, and now Marissa Faireborn is free to take up her duties. With her on her feet, I'm not responsible for everything any more, and I can relax a bit, though I'm keeping the paranoia until the civil war is over."

She eyes the Autobot with some exasperation. "You *still* aren't convinced? Strauchlor's Reaving, First Aid. An engineered disease transmitted not by bodily fluids but by injection. How'd Marissa get it? Who had access to her? The EDC *only*. That disease doesn't occur naturally, as you should recall. Someone with big bucks bought it and used it on her. Next point. Whenever she seemed to be getting better, Franklin would visit, and she would suffer a relapse. Now, to your recollection, is that how the disease worked on your moon? I doubt it. I believe that Franklin had her injected with another dose to cause her relapse. Cause and effect. Simple logic."'

First Aid shifts uncomfortably as he listens. He's grateful that everyone else has left by now, with only the stars, moon, and the odd sound of a passing car on the highway to keep them company. Aid's packed everything up save for a folding chair for Amber and a couple drinks. He looks guilty at the first part regarding Faireborn being stuck in that EDC hospital. He peers straight foward at the review on the disease. "Alright, it definitely looks bad, but none of that is necessarily connected to Cross specifically. Strauchlor's Reaving was engineered, yes. Dr. Violin would inject it in either populations or people and then bilk people for the cure. That's exactly what almost happened here."

"That said, if it turns out that she was infected at a time when only the EDC had access to her, then that's a bad sign for the EDC, though remember Cross wasn't even /in/ the EDC at the time. Remember that Dr. Violin's evil disease was a secret. Somehow Cross found out about it and then decided to hire him? It's a long way between thinking robots are just unthinking machines and joining forces with a mass murderer. As for her recovery, the drugs she was on had side effects, yes. Remember, she was doing terribly in /our/ custody as well. Granted it was one /big/ relapse rather than small ones. The timing is bad, though, I'll admit. Don't get me wrong, Amber, I realize there's tons of ifs, ands, or buts as well, but I am going to be proceeding with an open processor. Nothing's off the table anymore as far as I'm concerned."

"Fair enough. My own thought is that she actually did get a regular old infection from the water, and someone thought 'Wow, wouldn't it be convenient if she stayed sick'. As to the how, why a conspiracy, of course." Amber snickers and does a handstand and flip over the folding chair, landing just a bit off. She repeats it until she gets it right, still talking. "Remember that the MIB were already formed, so that argues for premeditation and advance preparation. She had to be removed in advance of the hearing, or there wouldn't have been a need for the hearing. As to Dr. Violen, our villain had to have off-world contacts. Bah. Anyone who'd hire that monster is almost as bad. That part's weak, I know, but *someone* here did hire him. That's unquestionable."

First Aid watches Amber's gymnastics, genuinely impressed. Most humans can't pull that off. "Them taking advantage of the situation sounds about right to me," First Aid agrees. The Protectobot stands up in order to pack the last folding chair in his knee trunk. "Can't wait for that datapad to get decrypted." Or... wait, decrypted? Uncrypted? One of those. "It could answer an awful lot of questions."

Amber MacKenzie points out, "Depends on how well Violen did his background checks. It could be that the datapad is full of Joshua Smiths, Thaddeus Joneses, and other silly aliases. Sorry, I'll let you have your chair back," she apologizes and dismounts a last time. "Oh, and I passed on a warning to Swordfish Security in case someone tries to steal or destroy the datapad. I said I suspected that your one-armed... er, baseball cap man was possibly one of Violen's customers. They couldn't find anything on the security cameras, alas."

"Yeah we didn't really give them much to go on, I'm afraid," First Aid admits. Ten Shanix says that baseball hat guy turns out to be some dude who wears a baseball hat. "I wonder what'll happen if the UN ends up agreeing with Cross and his cronies on Friday. I mean the Autobots have worked with less than reputable governments before, but so far they've all agreed that we're alive."

Amber MacKenzie nods. "Could be a complete coincidence, sure, but remember that I'm paranoid and proud of it. If he turns out to be Joe Citizen, then I'll feel stupid and apologize. The U.N.?" She sighs deeply. "I can't tell you how disappointed and ashamed I am to belong to the same species as that lot. It may be that you'll convince them with inspiring words, but then there's that rather obvious chance that either Cross or the Decepticons will act. With the Decepticons flying around, shooting people, and blowing things up, all the inspiring words will be immediately forgotten and replaced by the need to annihilate the Decepticons."

With the chair put away, she limits herself to cartwheels. The ground is too hard to do anything really demanding, but she does perform them well. "I really don't care all that much for the Geneva conventions themselves; we almost never take prisoners. It's the U.N.'s defining 'human' as 'homo sapiens' that is the most dangerous aspect of it all. Decepticons, Autobots, Junkions, Quintessons, Nebulans, Brandaxians, etc. are all classified as subhuman and not due the protection of the law. And by the law, I mean the rules of engagement, which are NOT the same as the Geneva conventions, along with criminal law and the rest."

"Hey I feel the same way every time I run into one of those idiot Decepticons," First Aid replies concerning being ashamed for their species. The doctor watches as Amber performs cartwheels, though he has no idea why she's doing it. "Careful. I don't want you somersaulting over the edge," he jokes. That'd solve Cross's problem real fast. "No way is Earth dumb enough to declare the rest of the galaxy as being lesser than human. Surely the UN has /some/ interest in maintaining intersteller relations." With everything packed up and evening fully upon them, he asks, "Shall we head on out? I think we've lost our view."

Amber MacKenzie lands on her feet and gives First Aid a reproachful look. "I wouldn't do Cross a big favor like that!" she protests. And she's just trying to keep in practice, ever since someone suggested she try for the Olympics again. Earth's Olympics, that is. "Er... the world is populated by idiots, I've always believed. I hope you're right, but if the Decepticons attack, they'll be thinking with their adrenaline and testosterone, not their heads." First Aid's a doctor; he should know what that means. "And yes, I need to get back before the General fires me for not tasting her tea." She assumes that Groove and Marissa went back on their own because the General was tired. "Thanks for the picnic, First Aid. It was nice to get away from the tension for a while."

"Anytime, Amber. That's what friends are for." The doctor falls forward, arms collapsing and legs turning over onto his back as he lands on all four wheels. "Come on, lets go home."

First Aid folds down into Ambulance mode.