The Tables Turned

Log Title: The Tables Turned

Characters: Arkeville, Darklon, Spike

Location: Brig - Lower Level - Autobot City

Date: February 24, 2016

Summary: Spike is attacked by Arkeville in the brig.

As logged by Dr. Arkeville - Wednesday, February 24, 2016, 8:26 PM

Brig - Lower Level - Autobot City

 * Autobot City is a fully functional base, and this is its brig. Autobot troublemakers and Decepticon POWs alike are kept

here, ever watched by Autobot City's sentient mind, Metroplex. In addition in built-in security features such as anti- personnel lasers and adjustable forcefields, this brig is always manned by at least two Autobot guards, with more available to watch over VIP guests. Heavily-armored walls and enhanced sensory systems make this brig near impregnable, although it is said where there is a will, there's a way.

Arkeville is in his cell, reading an article using the advanced shatterproof reader he's been allowed to use while his lab equipment has been taken away.

Spike has been doing some serious work recently. He's been getting painful testimonials for people who lost their loved ones during the 'Ultimate Doom' fallout in 1985. After reading a few, he suggested some people assemble a brief bio on their loved ones. Spike has assembled about 10 of them. Now, he's about ready to show them to Dr. Arkeville. Spike approaches Dr. Arkeville and activates the door, now unworried about the doctor. It may not be one of Spike's best ideas he's relayed to Crosscut, but it's one of the gutsier. "Hello, doctor...got a new assignment for you."

Arkeville looks up testily, using a metal thumb to bookmark his place in the article. "What is it, Witwicky? I have more important things to do than deal with you." He stands, dark eyes narrowing.

Spike smiles slightly and gives Dr. Arkeville a portfolio. "Got some reading I want you to do." The neat, 20-page portfolio has a 2-page bio of 10 victims, ranging in age from 3 years to 86. From various parts of the world. One has a young man from Chennai dressed in traditional wedding garb, the 86 year-old has a photo of her raising a glass of wine behind one of the ruins in France.

One of Arkeville's dark eyes narrows further in suspicion, while the other widens in curiosity. One of his wild white eyebrows reaches for his metal skullcap. "And what is this, Witwicky?" He accepts the portfolio, and holds it in his flesh hand while he start flipping though it with steel fingers.

Spike looks at Dr. Arkeville and stammers slightly. "These are... these are some people that were killed when you helped... Megatron and Starscream try to bring Cybertron into Earth's orbit." He looks at Dr. Arkeville and says seriously, "I've been in contact with some of the victims. They're upset that you won't be tried for your crimes, but I thought it was fair for them to get a voice."

Spike gestures "Neal Myers...he's the guy with glasses and the green tie - he was actually one of your slaves. After Wheeljack managed to reverse the effects, he never recovered...and he jumped off a bridge to his death."

A low, menacing voice within Dr. Arkeville purrs in Dr. Arkeville's ear: "You aren't treated badly here like you were in Triptikon, but so what? Your science works are discarded - do you even know if Wheeljack USES what you produce? At least the Decepitcons respected your genius!"

Arkeville smirks. "Good. If his mind was too weak to withstand the power of my hypno-chips, then the human race is better off without him. Who are the rest of these losers, and why should I care?" Arkeville stares at Spike directly and challengingly, gripping the book tightly and gesturing with his metal hand. "Why should I waste time with the dead? Return my lab to me, and let me do some good for the living."

Spike breathes out. "In due time." He looks around at the other incarcerated people. "You know the situation with the Joes. But I'm hoping they'll be able to finally move in a few weeks." He looks at the bios. "What harm would it be to read the bios then?" Spike begins to back up to close the door.

Arkeville takes a step towards Spike as he begins to back up towards the door. "What harm?" he asks, eyes widening now.

"What is this - some sort of object lesson? I know people died. I offered to make amends, but my efforts are literally thrown in the trash - don't deny it. Well, I'm sick of trying to turn over a new leaf, and I'm not crying over some poor dead slobs. I was a fool to trust the Decepticons, and I was a fool to trust you. I'm tired of being a fool. You ought to have taken my help when it was offered," he says, his voice a threatening hiss. He takes another step towards Spike, lowering the book and gesticulating with his iron hand.

Spike clinches his fist and holds up his other hand, "Heyah...get the fuck back." He frowns "Wheeljack will evaluate your work and whatever we can use, we'll use." Spike points to the back of the cell and raises his voice, but doesn't yell "get back".

Arkeville narrows his dark eyes again, and instead of stepping back, actually inches closer to Spike. "'Get back'?" he asks mockingly. "Or else what, Witwicky? You've already taken everything from me, and now you subject me to this garbage?"

Arkeville holds up Spike's book, and then with the claws of his right hand shreds it in half, unread. "Maybe I'm tired of listening to you, boy. I liked you better when you were under my control."

Spike blinks and for a half-second drops his guard. "..what?"

Arkeville perks up, and looks pleased. "Oh? Don't you remember? You were mine once. Mine to do with as I pleased, like I controlled your dad. You Witwickys are remarkably pliant, by the way. Must be why the Autobots like you so much. Tell you what to do and you just hop to it!" Arkeville leans forward slightly, looking Spike directly in the eyes. "You really don't remember, do you? Interesting. I wonder if it's the result of the hypno-chip, or if the Autobots took a crack at your brain as well. How hypocritical would that be?"

Spike steps back toward the entrance, still keeping a look at Dr. Arkeville. He's now halfway in and halfway out of his cell. "You're insane - that never happened." He takes a breath "Any time you want to leave, just say the word, and I'm sure the Joes or the U.S. Justice Department would love to have you."

Dr. Arkeville's psyche purrs in his ear, "You're old, and feeble, and your best work is behind you, but you can still leave a mark, by killing this pathetic human... and how long would Sparkplug last without him to wipe his mouth? The Autobots would toss his aside like a warped platelet."

Arkeville suddenly lashes out his metal arm at Spike, reaching for his throat. "Don't threaten me, Witwicky! I've had about enough of you! You think the Joes, or anyone else could keep me? You think you could keep me here, if I didn't decide to stay? You're lucky I've decided to play nice. Threaten me again, and I'll squeeze your pimply little head off before your precious Autobots could respond to do anything but clean up the mess!" He ends the rant in a scream, intending to lift Spike up by his neck to make his point.

>> Dr. Arkeville succeeds with his generic combat roll on Spike. <<

Spike 's eyes widen as he's suddenly, and easily picked up by Dr. Arkeville, by the throat. His shoes lift up from the ground almost 2 inches. Instinctively, he grasps Dr. Arkeville's claw to get him to release the grip. "Fucking psych - "

A few inmates who have been fairly docile suddenly have a reason to be roused. Some begin cheering the evil doctor.

"YES! YES! KILL HIM!"

Arkeville brings Spike's face closer to his, close enough that Spike can feel Arvkeville's foul breath. "Shall I listen to him?" Arkeville asks, his voice dangerously low now. "Shall I kill you Spike? Is that what you expect of me? I would hate to disappoint." Arkeville looks calm now, and serious, as if the decision to kill Spike or not was a rational one to make carefully. His grip is literally steel, and Spike's scrabbling at him seems to have little effect.

Spike looks on as Dr. Arkeville's claw just seems to tighten around his neck, his desperate prying having little to no effect. He balls his fist up and tries to strike at Dr. Arkeville's metal-plated head. He knows time's running out because he's quickly feeling the airways close completely. It's a frightening feeling - like a weighted dark blanket of suffocation envelops your entire form.

>> Spike succeeds with its generic combat roll on Dr. Arkeville. <<

A few of the inmates begin to make a ruckus. The electric bars make it impossible to bang against, but the four or five prisoners there begin to take anything they can to make noise and begin banging it against a solid portion of the wall, cheering Dr. Arkeville on. "Do it! Kill him!"

bad doctor. "Answer me, Spike. Do you want me to kill you? Is it time for your long, pathetic life to come to an end?"
 * clunk* Spike's hand smacks against Arkville's metal head, possibly hurting Spike's hand but seeming to do little to the

Darklon is on his feet, watching intently as Spike dangles from Arkeville's steel hand. "Do it," Darklon encourages him.

"Kill him while you have the chance!"

Arkeville tightens his grip, smiling at Spike, seeming to enjoy his jailer's predicament. "Ah, to have your life once again literally in my hand," he says with a whisper.

Dr. Arkeville's inner voice whispers in satisfaction. "Yes...the power...the ABSOLUTE POWER!"

Amazing what a very strong choke-hold will do. Literally 45 seconds ago, Arkeville and Spike were talking, tempers were flaring. And now, the steel grip continues its unbroken grip, Spike begins to grow limp and his eyes start to flutter. The grip is already starting to do damage as he can't even talk. He faintly looks at Dr. Arkeville's legs and using whatever strength he has left, he tries to kick Dr. Arkeville's knee, hoping the lower portion will be weaker than Arkeville's apparently very strong claw.

>> Spike succeeds with its generic combat roll on Dr. Arkeville. <<

One of the imprisoned inmates yells out in bloodlust "Snap your fingers, Snap his neck, doctor!"

Arkeville's slacks. However, just before Spike is about to pass out, Arkeville releases him, allowing him to fall to the ground. Arkeville stands over Spike, looking smug. "I could have killed you. Again. Remember that. You live because I decide to let you. Your life is mine. Don't threaten me again."
 * clank* Once again, Spike's attack hits metal, as Spike's weak kick is stopped by some sort of steel kneecap beneath

flow of oxygen begins to come in again. But the damage to his neck makes his airway feel no larger than a sugar straw stirrer. He slowly crawls away from the doctor.
 * thud* Spike lands on the ground with nothing to break his fall. He lays there for a few moments motionless and as a small

Spike looks at the entrance, he's only a few footsteps away, but he tries to pull himself to the opposite side of Dr. Arkeville's cell.

The inmates begin to "booooooo" Dr. Arkeville, as he appears to deny them the giddy thrill of seeing a death in front of their eyes after weeks of boredom.

Arkeville ignores the other prisoners, his focus entirely on Spike as he walks to stay directly over the Autobot ambassador. "Has the lesson been learned, or do you need further instruction? I don't have my full setup anymore, but if you're volunteering your services again I would be happy to take you back under my wing. You made such a wonderful research specimen last time." Arkeville grins, reveling in the power over Spike after so many months at Spike's mercy.

Spike can't even muster a retaliation after having the life choked out of him for nearly 30 seconds. He finally is able to take some pained gasps - but each time he gasps, it feels like he's swallowing boiling water, directly from a tea kettle.

Survivor instincts kick in as he slowly climbs to the outside of Dr. Arkeville's cell, ignoring the doctor's taunts.

Arkeville walks to the edge of his cell, but stops there, not preventing Spike from leaving, and not trying to use the situation to escape, either. He smiles, and looks pleased with himself. "I thank you for stopping by," he says. "And, oh - don't forget this!" He scoops up the remains of Spike's portfolio, and throws it on top of the gasping Witwicky. "Do come back soon, and be sure to bring my dinner." Arkeville then goes back into his cell and resumes reading his article.