In Spike We Trust (part I)

It's been a long time since the hall of the United Nations General Assembly has seen such numbers and activity. Flashbulbs are going off in several places and there is the glare of lights mounted on cameras as several reporters broadcast live in several languages. One can be overheard speaking in a clipped british accent, "...we've not been made privy to the questions that Nominee Witwicky will be asked in the course of todays confirmation hearings, however several pundits believe that the inquiry will be heavy on internal security as well as relations amongst the Cybertronians. We're also predicting that such mundane matters as economy, energy conservation, and diplomatic endeavors will be on the list to be asked as well. It's clear that the nominee will have a most grueling day ahead of him."

Monstereo wanders in behind some humans, back about 20 feet giving them a respective distance. He wiped his feet before entering the building and is carrying his own towel draped over a held out forearm. He has a silent solemn 'ooooh' expression on his face. It's his first time in a human building. And it's a spiffy clean and official like environment. Sublte artful taste. The kind of place you can't buy a hotdog, and nobody seems to be listening to music. It's off-putting. He makes friendly waves and nods to humans who look at him as he wanders, looking for one of those set-aside Cybertronian sized seats.

Twitch approaches the gathering from the air. Safe from being shot at by security forces because he's broadcasting a nifty Autobot IFF signature that was put into him when he was inducted into their ranks. That and visual identity by the security forces on the ground that confirm he is who he is. "OOoooh." He mumbles to himself as he soars overhead once, marvelling at the crowds and all the activity, before circling back again in search of a proper place to put down. WHen you're a mechanical bird, chairs aren't usually an option.

Selena Llwyll has found where they keep the coffee and is getting herself a double - hold the suger, cream or any of that other fluffy stuff. While waiting for the inky brew to be poured and lidded, she smoothes her jacket out and adjusts her ID-tag.

Michael Briar walks in with several top EDC officers. If the players here wish to join him, that works too. It's always been known that Michael works though a small group of advisors and people smarter than he is on military matters. Well, there they are. He chats casually with a few of them while he septs across the threshold and into the General Assembly. Michael stops talking however and looks about. The last time he was in here was about half a year ago during the first shots of the Protectorate war. He notices that they repaired the place and can hardly notice it was shot up and in the middle of a firefight.

Marissa Faireborn is here purely as a visitor and friend of man of the hour - Spike Witwicky. Dressed casually in beige slacks and a white blouse, Marissa has already staked out a place in the visitor's seating gallery. Some of the seats have been modified to allow the odd Transformer to watch, but ultimately there isn't a whole lot of room for humans or Transformer guests in the General Assembly. If Marissa weren't a friend of Spike she never would have made it in. Marissa seems to be saving several seats, both human and Transformer sized, in her general vicinity.

Attended by various aides -- that is, er, an entourage -- Wreck-Gar is making his first public appearance since the Juice fiasco. Naturally, this is of interest only to the media outlets that report on when space robots start taking Future Insane HGH, so an aging, decrepit Mo Rocca is no doubt waiting in the wings. Rather than wear a suit, Wreck-Gar has had his entire body polished and chromed, and he and his Junkion cohorts, who babble meaninglessly amongst themselves, move briskly through the crowd toward their designated gigantic seats -- although Wreck-Gar stops at every camera he sees to make some sort of cheeky photo-op gesture.

William is standing by the entrance to the Assembly Hall, watching as the delegates mix and mingle. He keeps his hand close enough to his pistol to make sure that it can't be snatched from him, but not close enough to be threatening. Though were it up to him, he'd be in full armor as the last time he was here, it was more bullet-filled.

Rodimus Prime walks in with the other visitors as they file into the General Assembly. This day isn't about him at all, so he's made no particular attempt to have a showy entrance or arrival -- he just strolls along with the group of VIP's somewhere behind Wreck-Gar, smiling and nodding to the cameras whenever his attention his called out. He seems fairly relaxed about the event, though the wary might notice him occasionally scanning the crowd and the sky with a shrewd blue optic.

In the end though, he finds something that should do nicely. And a moment later he dips down, cutting his engines and gliding over the heads of several startled people until he makes contact with the back of Rodimus' right shoulder. Those Laserbeak-esque magnetic talons take hold with a soft *TCK* as he attaches himself onto the Autobot leader as a handy perch. "Hihi!"

Kup has been here since the first people started filing in. He is in the seat next to Rodimus Prime's, with his arms crossed and his head canted to the side. Those who are extraordinarily observant may notice that he is, in fact, asleep.

As Wreck-Gar turns to do a 'Charlie's Angels' type pose for one photog, he spies the Autobot leader. "Rodimus Prime!" he blurts in his Guitar-Hero-by-way-of-East-London voice, carefully stepping around some human delegates to tromp over and try and put the Autobot leader in a headlock (he fails). "Me and Rodimus go back like Boba Fett and the Sarlacc Pit," Wreck-Gar explains to photographers who will no doubt caption the pictures with 'JUNKION ATTACKS AUTOBOT LEADER AT ASSEMBLY.' "Without his sage wisdom I'd never have saved a bunch of money on my car insurance!"

Monstereo hones in on where he's supposed to be, it's quite easy once Wreck-Gar and Company move there. He cues a short and low volume sound bite of a sheep: "baaaaaaaaa". He whips out the draped towel from his arm and opens it over his seat. Down he settles and he keeps his optics moving, taking in the sights as he starts wordlessly singing the theme to Night Court. "Do doooo do-do-do-dooooo. Doo do-do. Pluck bowwww bow bow..."

Rodimus Prime artfully dodges Wreck-Gar's attempted headlock. "Hey-oh!" Rodimus cries out good-naturedly, responding by

putting Wreck-Gar in a full Nelson. 'AUTOBOT LEADER RETALIATES WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE' the next caption will read. "Didn't recognize you all cleaned up like that Wreck-Gar," he says with a grin, releasing the Junkion and slapping him on the back.

And poor Twitch chose the WRONG moment to get all friendly and using Rodimus as his perch, as he's taken along for the ride. "Yieieeieieie!"

Monstereo optic brow arches. "Here chicky-chicky-chicky." He raises an arm.

The sound of a banging gavel can be heard and a voice booms over the loudspeaker, "Attention members of the press community, invited guests, and members of the gallery. The hearing will be starting in approximately ten minutes. Please find your seats. News crews, you have seven minutes to finish your initial broadcasts until intermission. Thank you." and the message repeats rapidly in a myriad of languages. It's the same brand of generic voice that alerts you that the white zone is for the loading and unloading of passengers and baggage only.

Wreck-Gar laughs, which sounds like some sort of bleating put through a vocoder. To escape the full-nelson, he wrenches his body violently – and his own arms tear off. "Just goes to show you," he says, as two aides recover and reattach his arms.

"Even David Copperfield can get Claudia Schiffer to give up a f--" The gavel banging covers up the rest of that.

Rodimus Prime walks to his seat, slipping in next to Kup. He glances up at Twitch, who is inadverently perched on his shoulder.

"Are you okay, buddy?" He asks, offering the robo-bird of prey an energon goodie.

One of Michael's advisors say, "Sir, they have your seats reserved." He gestures towards several roped off sections of chairs as Michael sighs saying wearily, "I know...I can see that. Is the security forces in place this time?" Remembering of course, the

last time he was at a meeting. The advisor says, "Yes, we have a full two squads on standby in the hangar bay with your personal suit ready to launch." Michael nods, "Good. Though I don't think we'll need it, you never know." The suit and tie man says, "Yes sir..." Michael just sighs before unhooking the rope in this row of chairs and taking a seat. The suit and tie EDC agent and advisors take seats to one side and behind him as Michael looks up hearing something on his small ear radio receiver. He glances until he notices William giving him a quick shaking of his head. A few of the sunglass wearing security agents however snicker at the comment.

Selena Llwyll hurries to her position at a door, herding straggers in with a smile and a friendly wave. She doesn't have a seat but instead takes up a spot by the door, watching those assembled with a cheery grin.

Several NPC EDCers start taking up the spots that Marissa has saved. They begin chatting quietly among one another while they want for the show to get on the road. The discussion seems centred on whether the newest version of the Ares is any better than the old one, or if it was just a cost cutting measure. The banging of the gavel briefly ends that. Once the announcement is done, they go back to chatting for the 2 minutes.

The Junkion crowd sits next to Monstereo, Wreck-Gar hunching forward with his elbows on his knees, as if the scene below him were being broadcast on a tiny, tiny screen.

"I think...I think I got it!" Twitch offers towards Monstereo, though he does quirk his head to one side. Chicky? As Rodimus takes his seat, the mechanical bird shifts to his forearm to avoid making it awkward. "I'm okay! Just a bouncier ride than I thought...yeah." And then he's offered an energon goodie. "...why does everyone keep doing that?" He wonders aloud. But he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and gulps it down eagerly.

One person in the assembly has a steely glare fixed upon Spike the whole time. He says nothing yet, but he looks like he has a million questions to ask--the answers to most of which could be potentially embarrassing.

"What, you don't like energon goodies?" Rodimus replies to Twitch's question, proceeding to extract another from his hip flask and wave it under the dozing Kup's nose.

As the gavel bangs down, Kup starts awake, arms flying apart and reaching for his gun, which is not there. "ICK-YACKS! THEY'RE IN THE TREES!" he shouts. A moment passes, and Kup's optics come fully online. A pause. He coughs, then turns casually to look at Rodimus and Twitch. "So, uh, I hear they're going to have fireworks. Won't that be exciting?"

William continues to observe from the door leading to the chamber. He watches as the Machines wrestle, sit down and converse. He also watches the EDC brass take their seats but generally keeps quiet.

Andi Lassiter slips quietly into the assembly room, running a bit late but hopefully not TOO late. She's carrying a large document tube, made to fit something poster-sized. She can't help but spot William and with a small smile steps right up next to him and taps his elbow. "Hello again, Mr. Greathawk."

William looks down at Andi and smiles, "Lieutenant Lassiter." He gives a nod to the tube of documents and raises a brow, "Portable RPG launcher?"

"I like energon goodies!" Twitch states, his head lifting as he watches the other one that Rodimus is waving, albeit in Kup's direction. "I just don't understand why everyone keeps offering them to me. Not that I'm complaining!"

Andi Lassiter chuckles and shakes her head no. "Just a surprise gift for Spike."

The door behind the three tiers of seats reserved for the jurors opens and a single man comes out and takes his seat at the very front of the seating, set up akin to Spike's set up except there's an earpiece and a gavel as well as a few sheets of paper.

The man clears his throat into the microphone to judge his audio level. He then taps on the mic, as if to confirm what his throat clearing dictated. Hmm. Very Well. He bangs on the gavel for attention several times before speaking. "Good Morning esteemed members of the press, members of the global and intergalactic community. My name is H.R. Royce FitzRoyce and I will be acting as impartial moderator for today's proceedings. Officially, this is the confirmation hearing to judge if the nominee, Spike Witwicky, is fit for the office of Secretary General of the United Nations. Before we introduce the nominee into the general assembly, we will greet our confirmation panel made up representatives from the Security Council and General Assembly." and as he finishes speaking, the door that H.R. Royce Fitzroyce entered from opens and seven people walk out: Five men and two women, dressed in impreccable professional attire walk with dignity and take seats just behind the moderator.

William doesn't tend to be the trusting type. But knowing Andi, she'd talk him out of his searching the tube. Or order him out of it. So he nods, "Very well then, Ma'am. I hope he enjoys it."

As the seven people enter, Wreck-Gar and his clique let out a sitcommy 'OOOOOOoooooOOOOOOooooohhhh!'

Andi Lassiter glances down as the proceedings start. "Ooh, better go. See you later." She tosses the tall man a quick smile then hurries down to join Marissa and her posse.

Selena Llwyll settles herself for a long evening of door watching. Hands behind her back clasped, smile fixed and eyes searching the crowd to put littl emental notes to identities. 'Slacker. Most likely to fall asleep. Most likely to spill water. Most likely to call for a bathroom break. ANd who are you?' Mental conversation continues.

Compton Xabat disembarks from a passenger bus, disguised as a member of the member. He's taken precautions to ensure that Spike won't recognize him--trimmed his eyebrows a bit, bleached his hair a tad and changed the styling, put on glasses, and applied a little makeup to hide the pockmarks on his face. Once he was done he barely recognized himself in the mirror! Inwardly smirking as he shows a security guard his press badge, Xabat makes his way into the assembly building.

Rodimus Prime whispers back to Twitch, leaning back in his seat. "I think it's a polly-wanna-cracker kind of thing?" He shrugs one shoulder, popping the energon goodie into his own mouth as Kup seems to be distracted by flashbacks.

Nate Briar sneaks into the back of the room, dress nicely in business casual. He is wearing a gray suit and he has his name tag to identify who he is. He isn't really dressed in the correct military uniform as he should be at the moment but does not seem to mind. He is Briar after all.

The EDC chatter around Marissa quiets down as the two minutes runs out and the proceedings start. Still, Marissa smiles and graciously offers Andi the last seat that she had been saving. Leaning over to her left, Marissa whispers, "Glad you could make it." Sadly, Andi's already being forced to rush off. Sad Marissa!

"A polly wanna cracker thing?" Twitch inadvertently parrots, his optics blinking a few times as he doesn't seem to get it. Which isn't surprising given how new he is to alot of things. Still, he gets more comfortable on his perch, looking quite comfortable. And shouldn't he be? Every leader needs their own little Laserbeak clone to perch on their arm and look cool.

Michael Briar just sits there watching the proceedings. He's interested, but not so much considering he's more than likely going to lose his military commander. He's not happy about it, but at the same time glad that Spike is going to a position more suited to his style and skills.

One of the Junkions, who reeks of hemp, leans down to Twitch. "He means, like, he considers himself part of the System, like, the white middle-class majority that's /oppressing/ brothers and sisters, my bird-brother," the Junkions says to the bird. "So he's just, like, placating you with treats to keep your eyes off the /real/ issues, bro. You know?"

Kup mutters something about neural net glitches and sits straighter in his chair. "It's an old Earth phrase. 'Polly' was a popular name for a pet parrot. And for some reason they thought parrots liked to eat crackers." He shakes his head. "Can't imagine what made them think that."

Once the panel has seated and placed the ear pieces in their ear and adjusted the microphones to communicate with their translator, they all signify that they are seated comfortably, have their notes prepared and are ready to begin. H.R. nods and smiles to the panel and then speaks into the microphone. "It seems that our panel is ready to begin. We will bring in the nominee before going over the procedure for the proceedings." he nods to one of the security personnel stationed at a slightly recessed side door, "Please escort in the nominee." he says, his slightly british voice. With that, the security officer steps in and returns a few seconds later with Spike in tow. Flashbulbs go off from the press section as he makes his entrance looking like a million bucks. Dressed in a suit bearing familiar looking lapel pins (he’s wearing lapel pins for the UN, EDC, and Autobots), the few weeks he's had away from the EDC and duty in general have rolled the back the clock for him it would appear. Looking a little more distinguished and dapper than exhausted and haggard, he smiles and nods towards those he knows that he can get eye contact with. He takes his seat and pours himself a glass of water before sitting up confidently and folding his hands in front of him.

Andi Lassiter settles in next to Marissa and whispers, "Me too," then offers her a small photograph.

"Ooooh." Twitch responds to Kup's explanation, nodding his head quickly. He then cuts off as the Junkion offers his own explanation. It takes the mechanical bird a full minute to process the words. His optics blink rapidly, almost like morse code. And what does he discern from this great tale of wisdom? "Uh...what?"

Marissa Faireborn keeps her eyes on the proceedings, but is still leaning over close to Andi. Even as she does this, Marissa fumbles with the ear piece with her right hand while accepting the photo with her left. She glances down at it, wondering what Andi is giving her. Marissa has been to these sorts of ceremonies many times before, and frankly she's learned that the first half of it tends to be nothing but fluff and therefore can more or less be ignored.

Michael Briar nods to himself, Spike really is better at this than leading groups. He turns his head and leans back just enough for one of his EDC agents can hear. A blond with sunglasses and hair in a bun wearing a snappy suit and tie. "Ready my list of potential candidates for Military CO." She smiles and produces a small data pad. "Already have it ready sir." Michael smiles and takes the list to run over while the talky talky goes on.

Within moments of looking down at the photo, Marissa has to cover her mouth to stifle laughter. She can't quite be heard by those down in the General Assembly, but a stuffy looking old guy several rows over gives Marissa and Andi a dirty look for daring to make noise during this. The Colonel hands the photo back and whispers, "This is nothing. I've seen photos if when he was 16. Never took off his yellow boots and hardhat..." Marissa slowly shakes her head in amazement.

Michael Briar reaches up and taps a switch on his ear piece. He chuckles at the good natured...at least he thinks it's good natured...squabbling on the EDC's com channels. He taps the data pad from its sleep mode and starts reading the list...then sighs tapping his ear piece back on.

As the din from Spike's arrival quiets down, the moderator speaks again. "Good Morning, Mister Witwicky. We all know why you're here this morning, so for brevity the official entry of this morning's business has already been completed. We'll get right into today's format. You'll field a short series of questions from our panel, after which you'll do the same from the gallery. After which, we will allow testimony on your behalf and continue in this manner until the proceedings are concluded. Do you understand?" Spike responds, "Yes Mister Moderator, I do." at this H.R. Royce FitzRoyce nods and smiles. "Very well then, we shall begin with questions from our confirmation panel."

Andi Lassiter takes the photo back but then taps lightly on the cylinder she brought with her. "Ah, but were they blown up to three meters across?" she whispers softly to Marissa. Oh, the grin is TOTALLY impish now.

As the proceedings get under way, William takes a step back and leans against the door frame that he's been guarding.

"Oh no you wouldn't dare..." Marissa whispers, shaking her head more emphatically now. She glances about in a conspiratorial manner to make sure nobody is overhearing. "Andrea Elizabeth Lassiter, if you do this I swear I will claim I've never met you before." Still, Marissa's tone doesn't sound all that serious...

Andi Lassiter is grinning like a cheshire cat now. "Who said I was going to do it?" She gestures slightly to the Junkions nearby. "They are."

Nate Briar heads over to where William is and decides to eye up the other competition in the EDC. He leans by the door as well. He gives William a simple nod.

A distinguished-looking older gentleman, obviously part of the panel, rises as he takes his turn to ask the nominee a question. He clears his throat momentarily before beginning. "Mr. Witwicky, the panel would like to know, how would you handle negotiations of peace between the Autobots and the Planet Earth, and the Decepticons, were such negotiations proposed and arranged?"

Marissa Faireborn leans forward slightly in order to look past Andi and to the Junkions. She studies them for several moments before leaning back to her normal position. "Well, we can't be held accountable for what Junkions do," she comments. "I'm still going to claim no knowledge of any events, though."

Twitch watches the proceedings taking place for a few minutes. Unlike so many other people who find this sort of thing boring, it's the first time he's witnessed something along these lines and the gathering is to marvelled at. "Um..." he then states towards those near him. Yes, even Wreck-gar is included in this group. "...so if he was this, head Secretary guy. Why's he not now? And why's he coming back?" SO much he's missed.

William crosses his arms, continues to scan the room but makes a pointed stop on Nate. Raising a disinterested brow, he returns to watching the proceedings.

Spike Witwicky leans in, "I think I need some clarification, sir. Are you asking how I would handle peace negotiations between the Autobots and the Decepticons or between Earth and both factions?"

"Both between the earth and both factions, if you please," the gentleman replies.

Wreck-Gar whispers over to Twitch: "They kept changing his time slot until the viewers couldn't keep up anymore, and then they canceled him in favor of Dancing With the Exo-Suits. But they didn't count on the Blu-Ray sales--" (this is 2029, Blu-Rays are standard, it is a fact, okay) "--and ended up picking him back up when they saw the ratings gold."

Nate Briar shrugs at William's gesture. He wonders what he did wrong so far. None the less, Nate decides to act cool.

Andi Lassiter finally sits back with a grin at Marissa and watches the proceedings.

Spike Witwicky thinks on this a moment. "Well, a peace between Earth and the Autobots I would hope be a simple matter of making things formal via treaties. Our people and the Autobots for the most part have coexisted peacefully since their arrival

with the occasional bump in the road as far as energon sharing and citizenship goes, but one would imagine that would would be ironed out." he pauses a bit more, "The Decepticons, I feel, would be another matter entirely. It would be a long process, building trust and cooperation and demonstrations of both on their part as well as a willingness on the parts of our people and the Autobots to believe their efforts to be genuine. I could not at this time wager if such a thing is possible, however, the optimist in me says that it may yet be possible even if it takes longer than any human in this room is going to live."

Twitch listens to Wreck-Gar's explanation, his head turning about from where he perches on Rodimus' arm to peer at the Junkion. The words go into his audials alright, he's listening intently. Trying to absorb t and figure it out. Which is where the problem is. A faint puff of smoke comes from his audials, and optics take on swirling pattern. "...duuuh...."

William continues to look over the crowd but finally pipes up. "Prototype?" he asks with disbelief. As if that's the dumbest codename he's heard yet. And he's in no way jealous.

"Fat chance of peace with the Decepticons," Kup mutters, lowering his chin towards his chest.

Marissa Faireborn tilts her head and offers a mild shrug at Andi. She's smiling slightly, but not nearly to the degree that Andi is. Marissa won't stop her and the Junkions' diabolical plot, but she mimes washing her hand clean of the whole affair. If this turns up causing an intergalatic incident, it's going to be Lassiter's picture on CNN tonight.

Rodimus Prime crosses his arms over his chest, leaning over and whispering to Kup, "Do you think it'd help if I told them that Decepticons are programmed for war and destruction?"

Nate Briar shrugs slightly, "It's a temporary name. It is because of my Glaive Unit. Personally, I'd like to go for Pathogen... But I think Mikey might think it's to aggressive."

As Twitch 'duuuhhhs' at Wreck-Gar, the Junkion leader strokes his mustache with a sly smile. "This," he says, nudging the Junkion to his left, "is an /ex/-parrot."

One of the woman in the panel clicks on her microphone. "Mr Witwicky. During your last administration, there was a largedebate on if the United Nations should engage in trade with the planet Monicus. Specifically, with the autobot's help, build a spacebridge for commerce and trade between our worlds. The idea was put down after much debate leaving a sour taste in many mouths and some would say part of the cause of the Protectorate war. If this idea ever came before the UN again, how would you handle it again?"

William raises a brow, "So when are you going to go rogue?"

Nate Briar smirks to William, "The second I get the Unity. You win with the revolution?"

William's face remains passive, head still turning to keep watch on the proceedings. "Haven't you heard, boy? I have a history of betraying your family." His scanning brings him eye to eye with Nate, "What makes you think I wouldn't shoot you in the back just like I shot your cousin?"

Twitch's optics are still all swirly for a few moments, and would probably go even longer if it weren't for one of the panel questions that gets his attention. "Peace with the Decepticons? Is that possible?" His head swivels about owl-like to look at Rodimus and Kup. Poor naive little mechabird. But then one has to remember. While most of the rest have been at this for upteen million years, he's only been at it a couple months.

James Bailey's head turns slowly to look at Nate. He glances between William and Nate a few times, looks off to the side for a bit, then turns back to look at Spike again.

[concluded in In_Spike_We_Trust (Part II)]