Conflicted Culture

Uptown San Francisco - North America

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.

Contents: Arcee Brownstone Apartment Building Meghan Skellton's Apartment Lassiter Residence  Alex Hammond's Apartment Alex Hammond's Office The Awakening Chinatown

Blast Off stands on a rooftop in the busy, windy city of San Francisco. The Combaticon is here on a scouting mission. Autoobot City is not too far away, and the Decepticons like to keep tabs of the comings and goings there. Also, he is under orders from above to seek out places on Earth to destroy- or steal from. One has to find out where a good place to strike is, before striking, right? Since this isn't THAT far from the Combaticon base in Nevada (as far as a speedy space shuttle is concerned, at least)... he didn't find it to hard to get here. And if he were to strike so close to AC- well, that would certainly unsettle the Autobots.

Now, after flying into the city, he looks around, wondering in what direction to go. That's when he hears it- a lilting voice rising up from the street not too far away. It almost sounds like... opera. And if there's anything the Combaticon shuttle likes (besides himself, and outer space...), it's the Kaon Opera back home. This isn't quite the same, but... now he must investigate.

Arcee darts ahead to gracefully transform into her pink Cybertronian Tech Car, enging purring, ready to go! Stylish!

Pink Saturn Sky  is parked in a pay lot across from the opera house and their special presentation of 'La Boheme' under the stars. The weather is cold yet clear, and sometimes Arcee just likes to people-watch, as well as make sure there's no problems happening anywhere.

Blast Off uses his anti-gravs to fly closer, keeping as low as possible. Though with a city as filled with people is this is, he doesn't entirely escape notice. Finally landing atop a roof just across the street from the outdoor production, he stops to survey the scene. Just... what IS this? The Combaticon silently stands there and takes in the sights- and the sounds... with some mild confusion. The sound, while nothing compared to the Kaon Opera he loves... isn't that bad, really. It's.. almost... beautiful?

Just below, Arcee gets a sudden *ping* on her scanner, picking up a hot signal. At first, she thinks it's Buzzsaw; she's recently tangled with him, and it was a positively ugly fight. But this doesn't end up on the ident as Buzzsaw... (Aw, Primus, WHY,) she thinks in dread. (UNLESS...he's not here to kill anyone...he just wants to hear the music...? Maybe I'd better investigate.) She sends a transmission his way.

You receive a radio message from Arcee: Nice evening for an outdoor opera, isn't it?

You send a radio message to Arcee:  ........ Opera? That is supposed to be an opera?

You receive a radio message from Arcee: It's the human version of one, yes. It's not Cybertronian opera by any means, but they're not trying to emulate it, either. It's artistic work of their own expression.

You send a radio message to Arcee:  ...I see. ....Well, obviously NOT anything approaching Cybertronian quality.

You receive a radio message from Arcee: But I see it made you pause to investigate. If you didn't think it had *any* merit, I doubt you would have done so.

You send a radio message to Arcee:  ..... Possibly. ...Possibly not.

Blast Off is watching the show, still trying to mix and match his contempt for the human race with the fact that he *almost* (*almost*) has to admit that the thing they're doing down there... is... well, not... beautiful. Not anything that in /any way/ compares to Cybertronian art and music. But... but it is... almost... tolerable. Which is high praise in the Combaticon's mind for such lowly creatures.

Then he gets a radio message. Oh lovely, more Autofools. In fact, it's Arcee again. He shouldn't be surprised, really, given how close they are to AC. He grips his ionic blaster more tightly, but doesn't raise it or make any aggressive moves... yet. No, he's still watching down below. <> He sniffs, sounding disdainful, then looks around for the pink car.

"<< Mmm, well I trust you'll have the *cultural* decency not to do anything to interrupt their performance, >>" Arcee comments, being prepared to lead Blast Off from the scene quickly should he suddenly become belligerant. However...knowing what she knows about him, she doesn't think anyone here is in any immediate danger.

Blast Off huffs, annoyed. *I* am *quite* cultured, and a perfectly civilized mech!>> He looks haughty for a monent, then narrows his optics suspiciously as he continues to look around for Arcee. Finally he glances back to the outside opera, where a large woman has just started singing, and her range of tone is simply amazing. The Combaticon stares a bit, completely unprepared to hear such a sound coming from such a disgusting flesh creature. But her mastery of her voice is clear- even to him. <<.... So... I assume you are here protecting them? ....Do they do this often? I though fleshlings were generally too busy scuttling around like turbo-roaches or conducting warfare against each other to stop and appreciate anything remotely like the "arts"....>>

"<< Well, you assumed *wrong*, >>" Arcee is quick to point out. << And were you to do the unthinkable and attack them, then yes, I would protect them from injury. But I think this should make you think twice about your assumptions. Humans are capable of all the feelings we are. They write and perform their own music, too. They have an entire culture all their own. >>"

Blast Off raises an optic ridge. Unthinkable? Oh, it's quite "thinkable"... he effeciently takes out Earth targets whenever it needed, without a second thought. But while he takes immense pride in his skills as a sharpshooter... he's not actually "trigger happy"... like some mechs he knows. He finally spots some pink below. There she is.... But he's close to AC, he's been spotted, and.... he's actually quite content to just stand here for now... and listen.

He waves a hand dismissively, still apeparing rather unimpressed, even if he secretly is more so than he likes to let on. <<...Yes, yes. The Autobot desire to protect these silly creatures, firmly in place. I am not surprsied. But do not concern yourself, I am content to simply listen.>> ... For now. <> His voice trails off as the singer hits an especially high (and skillful) note.

"<< I know, it's not all great, but I think you like some of it. It's OK to admit it. >>" Arcee listens to broadband for a moment, then pauses, and after an intermission is called, she asks, "<< Have you run across Blades? >>" It's an out-of-the-blue question, just...interjected in there randomly.

Blast Off keeps looking somewhat nonplussed, trying to wave off her (admittedly true) observations. <> .... And yet he keeps standing there, listening. A duet begins, and the Combaticon tilts his head to hear better, and... can't help but look slightly impressed as the singers eventually go into an amazing chorus just before intermission is called.

The intermission leaves the Combaticon with time to further scan about his surroundings and ponder his next move. Then Arcee asks her question, and he seems to smirk a bit under his faceplate as he crosses his arms and looks down at her. His attitude changes from the aloof gentlemech demeanor- to the snarky sniper side. <>

Wraith has arrived.

Pink Saturn Sky  naturally thinks Blast Off is completely disgusting, gloating about the probable death or severe injury of Blades. But she's keeping her temper in check, because currently, she's parked in an open lot, with *thousands* of pedestrians walking around enjoying an outdoor cultural event which includes an operatic presentation. Currently, an intermission is being held.

Wraith transforms from a robot into a sleek Lamborghini Aventador in one quiet, fluid motion.

"<< You wouldn't happen to have any more information than that, would you? I mean, being a decent, culturally-minded kind of mech. Surely, you'd know where he went down. You'd...remember that kind of thing, >>" Arcee radios Blast Off, who is hovering nearby.

High class, high culture, that tends to bring out the spenders in the crowd... There's probably a few other exotics roaming around, but none catch eyes quite like the ebony Aventador with accent LED lighting. The blue lighting pulses softly as the throaty rumble of the exhaust carries, the car slowly inching towards it's...companion? Counterpart? Assigned spot? ...nope, a pink Saturn. <>

Pink Saturn Sky  says, "<< No, not really, Wraith...I suppose it COULD be worse, but I've got Blast Off here bragging about shooting down Blades, and I'm trying to get him to say more about it without making this place dangerous for the pedestrians. I know the Autobots on-channel are annoyed I'm not handling this more violently, but I'm trying my best, >>" she says with some mild annoyance -- not for Wraith, of course, but the other Bots on the channel."

Blast Off keeps his arms crossed, as he looks over the scene smugly. <> He listens as Arcee radios him, considers, then shrugs slightly and answers, "It's no concern of mine, anymore. Yes, I /am/ "civil". Very well. I believe the fleshlings call it New Madrid, Missouri, at a place they ever-so-quaintly call a "baseball diamond". He... or whatever is left of him... may still be in that hole he fell into. You are welcome to go see, if you wish.>> He waves it off, unconcerned. The job has been done, he doesn't expect them to find much left of the 'Bot now. But if they want to find him? Go ahead. He's done his job.

Lamborghini Aventador  parks, powering down the lighting to pass as just another black Lamborghini. <> He begins scanning the area, looking for possible avenues of approach.

"<< Please be extremely careful, >> Arcee radios Wraith worriedly. "<< I know you wouldn't willingly hurt anyone, but Blast Off has no such compunctions. The streets here are really narrow, many lead to dead-ends and people may panic and trample others. It's so simple for this to turn disastrous. >>"

Pink Saturn Sky  then goes back to radioing her friend, the friendly neighborhood Combaticon... "<< Thanks. Well, that has nothing to do with opera, so let's get back on-topic. So far? It's different, right? Different, but *bad*? I still think if it was bad, you would have left before intermission. >>"

Blast Off begins to think about possibly flying further down the street, continuing his scouting of the area when Arcee radios him again. He looks down at the Autobot car, considering, then answers, (untruthfully) <> He sniffs haughtily again, but pauses to glance at the crowd, where he notices the opera troupe is getting ready to sing again. <<...However... I suppose... I have seen worse attempts at music than this.>>

Lamborghini Aventador  slowly starts to creep his self towards a darker offshoot from the street and transforms, sizing things up and moving about as discreetly as he can manage. Inching his way through, he starts picking a back-route towards where Blast Off is perched. <> Wraith transforms seamlessly from a Lamborghini Aventador into a more proper form.

Combat: Wraith slips into the shadows and out of sight...

"<< Right, well...part two is about to begin, >> Arcee says into her radio, hoping Blast Off will be interested. "<< So remember, you can't critique what you haven't seen! >>"

Blast Off doesn't notice Wraith yet, because the Autobot is sneaky that way. He continues to look down at the scene below, feigning disinterest... but poorly. The Combaticon shoos away a pigeon that tries to perch on him, "I am NOT a statue, go away..." He mutters, then returns to the business at hand. <<Tch! As if I'd have any interest in such things...>> Of course, he remains standing there, so he finally adds, <<...But I suppose... I could stay and watch this pitiable performance at least a *while* longer, if only to confirm my opinion on how terrible they are...>>

"<< You may find that some of the dramatic plots of these scenes aren't very different from Cybertronian opera, >>" Arcee says, just to rankle Blast Off slightly. Get him right in the culture, as it were.

Wraith continues to work his way towards the rooftop and over the edge, dropping into a crouch behind Blast Off as he sizes the mech up. Hmm... He slowly reaches for one of his signature spikes, drawing it out slowly and stalking towards the Combaticon.

On the wind...there might be the faintest of whispers... An old nursery rhyme? No... not quite. But it is something from a movie that may be familiar... "One, two... guess who's coming for you...." Slightly altered... Combat: Wraith analyzes Blast Off for weaknesses.

Blast Off scoffs, <<What could fleshlings possibly know about the sort of cultural, psychological, and figurative relationships and themes found in our (obviously superior) arts and theater? I find it difficult they could understand these kinds of dilemmas and conflicts... the questions of existance, life, and power, that we Cybertronians must ask ourselves daily!>> Pause. There's a slightly put-upon sigh, and a quieter: <<...Well, *intelligent* ones, at least.>>

Blast Off could go on bloviating... but an all-too-familar sing-songy rhyme catches his audios. The Combaticon's violet-gray optics widen as he freezes- for a moment. Oh slag. His hand grips his blaster as he then suddenly whirls around, looking for the sound's source, and he begins to leap up, off of the rooftop.

Wraith charges. He's got the drop, and he's more than ready to do what needs be done. He goes to grab the Combaticon as soon as he turns, keeping him from running too far, and drives the overcharged spike towards Blast Off's chassis to pin him down. "Don't you go anywhere just yet, I have questions for you."

Harsh? Oh, absolutely... But the mech is in the wrong spot of town, and neutralization before things get out of hand is a must. He's got a flier, and zero response in the area that can keep to the skies as well as the Combaticon can.

Combat: Wraith appears from the shadows... Combat: Sneak Attack!! Combat: Wraith strikes Blast Off with his You're grounded attack! Combat: Wraith uses up a charge on his Hopeslayer Rifle Chargers booster pack! Combat: Massive damage! Combat: You are very aware that your life is in danger! Combat: Wraith's attack has damaged your Agility!

Pink Saturn Sky <Arcee> remains parked in the open lot below the building, still very quietly observing the crowd, but more of her attention is fixated on the top of the building -- she's watching to see if Wraith's managed to tag the blustery one.

Blast Off is not quick enough, and it costs him. Dearly. Wraith strikes the shuttleformer square in the chest with a rather nasty weapon, stabbing close to his very spark and sending jolts of electricity shooting through the Combaticon's circuits. It nearly blows out his optics right then and there. He screams in pain at the massive assault, and crumples to the rooftop in a smoking heap, as Wraith had hoped. "guhhh..."

His ventilation systems attempt to continue cycling, weakly, but they don't sound too good now. Electricity continues to rift in currents along his surface even as he attempts to pull himself up onto his hands and knees. The Combaticon is not built for such up-close, powerful attacks, and this is one of the worst ones he's ever experienced. Maybe THE worst. It's so bad, it leaves him somewhat too stunned, shocked, and in pain right now to really even have much fight left in him. Just a desire to escape.... Once he can get his bearings again, that is.

Now quite dim, his mostly gray optics betray some alarm as they look up at the Autobot. "Stay... stay back. I... I was *szk* not harming any...*ZK* of your precious... fleshlinsZZZ*"

Combat: Blast Off sets his defense level to Protected.

Wraith nods slowly as he takes a step back. "Not yet, you mean." He wipes whatever fluids are staining the spike and... almost looks as though he's regretting what transpired. "But I know you Decepticons. Everything just turns into leverage for your own gains, and that is an outcome I cannot risk."

Wraith steps back towards the edge of the building opposite Blast Off's position. "Get away from those who cannot defend themselves from your treachery. Before I have to kill you."

Down below on the ground, Arcee is pretty sure she felt a jolt of...something. Maybe it was just her imagination, but some of the concert-goers seemed to have a sudden case of frizzy hair. (Oh, man, I think Wraith managed to tag him!) she thinks hopefully, and watches for a long moment to see if anything would fall from above. So far, nothing. All was proceeding as it should.

Blast Off glares up at Wraith, optics still having trouble focusing for a moment. He shakes his head slowly, focusing them, then manages to pull himself up onto a ventilation shaft and lean against it as he equilibrates again. The Combaticon looks like slag now, and is scorched with electrical burns. He even smells like burnt circuitry.

Still unsteady, he glares at Wraith, then radios both him- and Arcee: <<You... You speak of *zkk* teachery? Was that a planned operat...tion? Lure me in with *crk* o-opera and then strike when my back was turned?>> Of course, he was *originally* here to scout for possible destruction, but he;s not going to mention that right now......

Wraith is backing away as well. "Just get off Earth, you're not welcome here. Not so long as you wear that badge." He takes another step towards the edge and glances down before looking back at Blast Off. "Like you said... we meet again, it is a battlefield. Do not make me come back here." He drops off the edge and transforms to rejoin Arcee.

Pink Saturn Sky <Arcee> receives the radio, and she smirks to herself. She's going to let Blast Off stew over this one. He damn well deserved it. She's not even going to confirm for him, one way or another, whether this was 'treachery', sneakiness, or otherwise.

Wraith transforms from a robot into a sleek Lamborghini Aventador in one quiet, fluid motion.

Blast Off finally manages to stand on his own two feet again. Wraith... Wraith has confirmed himself as a true threat, and the Combaticon eyes (optics?) him warily. However, the shuttleformer's usual arrogance is returning as he gets back on his feet. At least a little.... though he's mostly concerned with getting out of here now. His hand almost subconciously reaches for his chest, where both the Decepticon badge- and his brand new, gaping wound- are, and it remains there as he stares at the Autobot. "...Understood."

As Wraith heads off, Blast Off is finally stable enough to transform, right there on the rooftop. Anyone still watching from below will get to see a large brown and purple space shuttle suddenly take off from the nearby building, adding his own very loud, rumbling roar to the opera music below. As the shuttle heads skyward, he radios back to Wraith, <<Well, I trust that that enerwine I gave you was at least palatable? For THAT is the sort of cultured creation I *can* appreciate, not some fleshling attempt at it...>>

Despite all that, though... the shuttle is actually kind of sad he won't get to see the end of the opera.

Lamborghini Aventador <Wraith> observes through the windscreen as Blast Off departs, returning the radio call. <<The enerwine is on a shelf, aging properly and will be used to celebrate the end of this war.>>

When Arcee sees the Lamborghini returning to the area, she pulls out of the lot and drives beside him. "<< Nice shot. I wish I could sneak half as good as that, >>" she admits. "<< But I could feel the pulse from that all the way down here on street level. That had to have put a hurt on him. >>"

Blast Off radios back to Wraith. Somehow, he is still determined to maintain his "civilized" manner, despite... everything, and the Autobot did at least back off, so... he responds, "I see. Hopefully it will not have TOO much time to age, then...>> as he becomes a speck in the darkened sky.

Lamborghini Aventador <Wraith> is silent, even as Arcee congratulates him for the job well done... He would say otherwise. It was a dirty blow. One he's not proud of, but...with a human populace as close as it was...

"Let's just get back to base." He turns to start down the road, engine rumbling the whole way. "Okay!" Arcee's cheerful as she heads off with Wraith. She's mostly pleased because none of the humans got hurt, and the music was quite nice.

Combat: Your COMBAT flag has been cleared.

< Decepticon > Arachnae says, "So.. Right. Who's captaining this particular idiocy on this planet someone told me was called 'Earth'?" < Decepticon > Contrail says, "I believe that Blast off is currently the ranking officer on-site." < Decepticon > Blast Off says, "...I am? ...Oh, well, of COURSE I am." < Decepticon > Contrail says, "I'm just looking at the list of Decepticons currently on Earth." < Decepticon > Blast Off says, "Why do I always get stuck with this mudball?" < Decepticon > Arachnae says, "...Lovely.." < Decepticon > Contrail says, "Because you're just so *competent*, Blast Off." < Decepticon > Contrail says, "We expect you to handle ALL of the things." < Decepticon > Blast Off says, "....... *sighs* ...Understood, Contrail." < Decepticon > Arachnae says, "Could you kindly handle this: Where in the nine layers of the pit am I?" < Decepticon > Blast Off says, "Looking at our satellite systems, I'd say you are in the section of Earth they call "Africa". In the Sahara, to be exact." < Decepticon > Arachnae says, "I'm missing a few hundred vorn of memory engrams so bear with me when I say, What?" < Decepticon > Blast Off says, "...Is there a problem? Do you... not believe you are in that particular section of this particular mudball?" < Decepticon > Arachnae says, "Currently have no records of this planet, Blast Off. I anticipate a full recovery shortly, however." < Decepticon > Blast Off says, "This is... troubling, Arachnae. Have you seen a medic lately?" < Decepticon > Arachnae says, "I *am* a medic, thank-you-very-much. I know what is occuring." < Decepticon > Arachnae says, "It is the *why* that will elude me until the process is completed." < Decepticon > Blast Off says, "... Still, I am not sure that "physician, heal thyself" is the correct advice in this situation. Go see another medic, Arachnae." < Decepticon > Arachnae says, "I left myself a note and what to expect, Blast Off. And I do not trust another medic not to futz with this. They're only memories, they will return." < Decepticon > Arachnae says, "As long as this is not futzed with."

< Decepticon > Blast Off says, "And yet, despite your careful notes, you did not know why you are on Earth just now?"

< Decepticon > Buzzsaw says, "This is disturbing, and will undoubtedly require a full debrief following your return to a proper base of operations."

< Decepticon > Harrow says, "Hmm." < Decepticon > Arachnae says, "... Valid point... The notes only noted where I was was safe and what was occuring with an addendum that 'all would become clear in time'." < Decepticon > Blast Off says, "Harrow, can you take a look at Arachnae?" < Decepticon > Harrow says, "I just tuned in, what's wrong with her?" < Decepticon > Arachnae says, "Nothing time won't handle." < Decepticon > Blast Off says, ".... So she claims." < Decepticon > Harrow says, "Well then." < Decepticon > Buzzsaw says, "Acute amnesia and lack of knowledge as to why she is currently located on Earth." < Decepticon > Blitzwing says, "#$%!#%" < Decepticon > Arachnae says, "I concur." < Decepticon > Harrow says, "..." < Decepticon > Scorn says, "What the frag?" < Decepticon > Blast Off says, "Arachnae, go see another medic. Such as Harrow. That is an order. I want a report in 3 mega-cycles."