Log Title: Rook's Interview
Date: December 22, 2016
TP: End of Days TP
Summary: Rook has some questions for Snaptrap.
As logged by Autobot Rook - Thursday, December 22, 2016, 2:08 PM
Altihex - Northern Hemisphere - Cybertron
- Altihex borders the Neutral Territories, Nova Cronum, the Rust Sea, the Tagan Heights and Uraya. It is one of the city-states the Tri-Torus Loop leads to and home to most of Cybertron's deep-space research facilities.
- Bad things happen in Altihex.
Bad things happen to most in Altihex, but not to Snaptrap. The large mech sits patiently on a bench made from fallen buildings and other, less fortunate mechs. The giant robot has been mostly undisturbed as he waits for Dust Devil to return.... if that ever happens.
Rook drives into the area in his conspicuously Earth-inspired altmode, and transforms, looking around observantly at the recent destruction caused by Seawing. Spotting instantly the massive turtlebot, Rook approaches the Seacon commander, neither aggressively nor timidly. Rook takes in Snaptrap's interesting choice of sitting material, and then looks up at his optics. "Hello," the Autobot says evenly. "I am Rook, of the Autobot Broadcasting Network. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"
Snaptrap looks down at the Autobot for a moment. "You may ask all you like. Whether I answer or not depends on how much I like the question." The Seacon appears to be in a somewhat agreeable mood today, since his plans have not gone completely awry just yet.
Rook nods. His face is hidden behind a silver mask, but his voice is pleasant and professional. "Excellent," he says, and silently activates a recorder in his chest. He glances around. "I've heard many reports of an attack in this area. Is your group responsible for the recent outbreak of violence?" He sounds more curious and matter-of-fact than accusatory, as if more interested in confirming the truth than seeking out retribution for the assault.
Snaptrap considers the question carefully, and answers just as carefully. "Yes, but not by intention. I told my intelligence officer, Seawing, to find a way to speak with an Autobot. He chose his method poorly." For now, he's going to stick with the story and such that he told to Dust Devil. "When the Autobot responded to the violence, I was alerted that Seawing had 'completed' his mission, and made my way to the scene, here in Altihex. By the time I arrived, there was some damage done to the city, the Autobot, and to my subordinate. I quickly told him to back off, and he -will- be punished for his actions."
Rook nods, listening dispassionately to the much-larger Seacon. "You mentioned Seawing," Rook states. "Is it safe to assume you are Snaptrap, leader of the Seacons?" Rook is a small robot, the size of the Mini-Bot, but he doesn't seem threatened or intimidated by his interview subject. "If you don't mind me asking, what is your business with the Autobots, and were you satisfied with your interactions?"
"Yes, I am Snaptrap. My business with the Autobots is private, and thus far, yes, I am satisfied." He says nothing else for the time, waiting instead for Rook to ask more questions.
Dreadwind is out to investigate reports of fighting in the region. His superiors in Aerospace received word from Intel, both of whom decided that life would be a much brighter for them if Dreadwind weren't in their immediate vicinity. And so here he is, darkening the skies of Cybertron, silently lamenting his solitude.
Rook nods again, accepting Snaptrap's need for privacy in his dealings with the other Autobots. Instead, he enlarges the scope of his questions. "How about your larger goals on Cybertron? You've been called terrorists by Autobot Command after Seacon attacks in Ibex and Hydrax. Would you characterize those claims as true or misguided? Are you still affiliated with the Quintesson Empire, or have you struck out on your own?"
Dreadwind tips his port wing as he circles around the sight, casting an abnormally lingering shadow over the two robots below. Tightening his circle, the jet dips its nose dramatically before transforming. The Decepticon lands uncomfortably close to Rook and Snaptrap... not in a 'invading your personal space' way, he's actually a good 50 feet away. More in the way a really negative person tends to make everyone at the party uncomfortable, even when they aren't in the same room. His shoulders sulk, and he surveys the scene, paying particular attention to Snaptrap's choice of seat. "Hmm... So the reports were right. Lovely."
Snaptrap pretends to take no notice of Dreadwind, and continues his interview. "We are pirates and mercenaries. We do what we are paid to do, and if we have no pressing missions, we take what we want, when we want. We are independent of the Quintessons now, and are on our own." He looks to Rook for a moment, optic to optic. "Right now, despite appearances to the contrary, I am in the middle of something important. I am simply waiting for my Autobot liaison to return. No, I will not tell you who he is, or what he's doing for me."
Rook feels the cold shadow of Dreadwind pass over him, and looks up. His gaze follows the Decepticon as he lands and slumps. He takes a slight step back away from Snaptrap -- not as if caught doing something wrong, but more of a protective measure should things suddenly go south. As Snaptrap speaks, however, Rook returns his attention to the Seacon Commander. He nods at Snaptrap's words, and again seems satisfied with what Snaptrap has to offer without pushing. He turns to Dreadwind. "You came in response to word of the attack?" he asks.
Dreadwind's head tilts slowly down toward the short Autobot, regarding him impassively for a few moments. Finally he speaks up, "I was allegedly /sent/ in response to word of an attack, although I suspect ulterior motives in that. But yes, pretty much." His optics slide back up to Snaptrap, assuming he's the perpetrator of the violence here, "I assume something horrible happened here?" Snaptrap looks back at Dreadwind and stands slowly. "Yes, but I am not the cause of it, for once. I prevented further damage from being done, truth be told."
Rook doesn't contradict Snaptrap's characterization of events, for what it's worth. "What are the Decepticons' interests in Altihex? As the cyberquakes and massive storms continue to ravage the planet, is there some point where the Decepticons will allow neutral citizens to leave our world, or have the Decepticons a plan to halt the planetary destruction?" Poor Dreadwind. As if Megatron tells him any of his larger plans for the Decepticons.
Dreadwind lifts one of his optic brows, looking between Snaptrap and Rook. Something does not compute. His processor cycles through his databanks surprisingly quickly, but all queries come up empty. He shakes his head with a sigh, "I literally have no idea what is going on here. I suppose if I were someone more important, somebody somewhere might actually tell me /something./ As it is..." His gaze rests on Snaptrap, "They sent me to find out what actually happened..."
"My... interview with Rook will be enlightening, then, Decepticon." Snaptrap looks to Rook, as if asking if there any more questions for him.
Rook nods and turns back to Snaptrap. "So, what did actually happen here? You said you send your intelligence officer Seawing to 'find a way to speak with an Autobot.' And he, what -- showed up here and started firing indiscriminately? You said he'll be punished for his actions, but you also claim you Seacons simply take what you want. So, what approach would you prefer he have taken? Are you disappointed in the destruction he caused?"
Snaptrap says, "He did exactly that, and while normally, I don't care about collateral damage, this was one instance when a more subtle route, or a more diplomatic route, would have been preferred. I assumed my second would understand that, but I was sadly mistaken."
Rook listens without apparent judgement. "Are you happier now that you've ended association with the Quintessons? How does it feel to be your own mechs, following your own visions and desires?" Who else but Rook would care about a Seacon's hopes and dreams? "Do you feel your efforts on Cybertron will have a positive effect on the planet, or are you primarily concerned only in the wellbeing of your personal team?"
Snaptrap says, "We prefer to operate without the space squids breathing down our necks. They controlled us, and it rankled us to no end. As for your third question... we are primarily concerned with our own well-being. However, we are currently working to possibly help stop Cybertron's destruction. Purely for profit reasons, mind you."
Rook is a small Autobot talking with the massive form of Snaptrap, who sits on a seat made of rubble and the bodies of the fallen. Evidence of recent violence litter the streets, although Rook himself seems untouched by battle, and for now things seem quiet.
"Saving Cybertron while also turning a profit would be quite the accomplishment. Do you feel an affinity for any of the native factions here?" Rook asks. He seems to find Snaptrap interesting, and the Seacon seems to be tolerating him thus far. "Your methods seem to align with those of the Decepticons. Have they contacted you about any sort of potential alliance? You've mentioned working with the Autobots, who don't seem to be as natural a fit."
Snaptrap says, "We work with whoever pays us. If no one is paying us, we steal what we want or need. Our methods may align with the 'Cons, but we have no real connection to them. As for the 'Bots... It is currently an alliance with one of them, not the faction as a whole. We made a mistake, and this Autobot is helping us erase that mistake."
Rook nods again, listening carefully and betraying little emotion behind his silver mask. He double-taps his chest, making up his interview record in case something bad happens to him before he has a chance to publish. "What are your long-term goals with the Seacons, assuming Cybertron is saved? Do you have a larger plan besides a mercenary and piratical existence?" Rook seems pretty focused on Snaptrap, largely ignoring the looming, gloomy Dreadwind for now.
Snaptrap is seemingly unconcerned with anyone but Rook right now. "Saved or not, our goal is the same - money and power. We want both, and lots of both. We have yet to decide when is a good stopping point for retiring."
Dreadwind has been standing by, passively (depressively) listening to the interview between Snaptrap and Rook. In all honesty, he doesn't really care, but at least reporting the information back will get him noticed by someone... albeit briefly.
Blast Off has been out in space for quite some time again, resulting in a tired shuttleformer who still could use a bit more recharge but NO, Nope, Onslaught dragged him out of sleep to go do some oh-so-important scouting of a recent fight zone. Fine. Whatever. He'll just catch up on sleep later, maybe during his next months-long space voyage. He also needs to catch up on recent events, but that will come in time.
For now, the space shuttle flies overhead, scans already taking in the scene below. There's at least one thing of interest here for him- Altihex is Blast Off's hometown. As a space alt, he's spent a lot of time here both before and in the earlier years of the War... until the war, and the Combaticons, finally swept him up for good. It's always kind of... nice to come home.
There's a low rumble of an engine in the distance, the noise of something ground-bound coming from the west. Jets and flying Cybertronians don't make this kind of noise, which means it *might* be an Autobot.
Rapidly growing closer, the figure of an Earth vehicle mode can be made out, low, powerful and sleek. It's black and white livery, mosty black, with red and white light bar set atop its roof. Reinforced grill bars wrap around the front - this doesn't look like the kind of car that shows up to pass out parking tickets. It'll be on the group in moments.
Rook pauses as others approach his location. He steps back again, once more slightly on the defensive until he knows who's joining the party. As an independent (if Autobot-allied) reporter, he's used to being considered a non-combatant to most warriors on either side. However, Cybertron is a dangerous place, and Rook hasn't survived this long by letting his guard down and opening himself up to being victimized by the first predator to consider him weak.
Dreadwind makes a mental note of the approach of the others, but doesn't react. Not because he knew they were coming. Not because he feels unthreatened. Not even because he's just that cool under pressure. It just takes a lot of energy to care, and he doesn't feel like sparing that energy right now.
Blast Off picks up several readings as he makes his scans of the area. Hmm, several Decepticons and... an Autobot? What is going on here? With an internal sigh, the Combaticon veers towards the group. He might as well find out what's going on, though unfortunately that actually means having to TALK to people. Ugh. The shuttle transforms and lands near the others, frowning under his faceplate a bit as the Decepticon police car comes roaring up (any kind of police vehicle, or cop for that matter, makes him feel a bit... prickly. He's had unpleasant experiences with cops, OK?).
Then, looking down at the others (for naturally Blast Off chose a somewhat higher perch so he can look down on the others- for one, the sniper likes the tactical advantage of being in a high place and two, he just likes looking down on people). "What's going on here?"
'To punish and enslave'. The motif on the door rapidly moves along with shifting body parts and altmode plating as Barricade transforms and rolls out of vehicle mode. He quickly takes in the scenario, coal-red optics glowering behind the darkness of his helmet and the perpetual scowl on his face. He raises his right arm upwards, offering his forearm to the sky - Garboil sweeps down from somewhere overhead, darting past Blast Off to do so. The cobalt vulture perches on Barricade's arm.
His boots fall heavy against the ground as he stalks over, closer to Rook. "Funny. I was just gonna ask th' same thing."
Dreadwind looks between the other (not necessarily 'fellow' - this is Dreadwind, after all) Decepticons. His gaze finally settles on Rook, "There was a report of some sort of fighting going on here. I showed up to find this short robot interviewing a turtle." He looks at the wreckage around them, particularly the pile of debris and bodies that Snaptrap had been sitting on, "Overall, it looked pretty horrible."
Rook turns to face the incoming Decepticons. "Hello!" he calls out, taking the initiative. "I'm Rook, of the Autobot Broadcasting Network. Are you also here to investigate the violence done to this area by the Seacons?" Rook doesn't seem worried or intimidated to be surrounded by much-larger and more heavily armed Decepticons. He's likely either very brave or very stupid -- or both. He carefully studies each of the arriving Decepticons, as if memorizing their features for later.
Blast Off is a brown and purple space alt with an aloof and superior attitude to him. He manages to look rather bored most of the time, like others' concerns are too petty for him to be bothered with. He's doing it right now, in fact. His gaze remains largely on the Autobot, however. The sniper holds an ionic blaster in his black hand, though he doesn't lift or point it. He seems a bit suspicious of the Autobot- though then again he doesn't look particularly trusting of anyone here, really.
"What's an Autobot doing here, speaking to Decepticons? How do you know you're not a spy?" He glances up as Garboil dives past him, then back down to Dreadwind. He looks at the bodies strewn about and shrugs. "I've seen worse." He glances back out. "So this was the Seacons, then?" Hopefully they didn't destroy anything space research-related... he doesn't say that out loud though.
Rook repeats himself, slowing his speech down slightly in case his audience is slower than the ones he's commonly used to. "I'm a well-known reporter. If you haven't heard of me, feel free to contact your intelligence officers or superiors to confirm my identity. I am not a spy -- I am public with my allegiance," he says, pointing to the Autobot symbol on his chest, "Although I try to be fair and truthful in my reporting, whether that seems to favor Autobot, Decepticon or neither."
Snaptrap finally decides to join in the merriment, and looks to Blast Off. Any emotion he showed during his interview is gone now, and he stares at the shuttlecraft. "He wasn't speaking to Decepticons. He's speaking to ME." He appears to be unarmed, but that doesn't mean much when there are a pair of sonic-shell cannons mounted on his back.
Garboil bobs his head and turns to face Rook. "Oh yes! I'm quite sure I recognize you - Rook, is it? It's a pleasure, I enjoy keeping up with your journalistic endeavors. Is there any way in which I can be of aid to you tonight? In the interest of public safety, of course."
Barricade narrows his optics at Snaptrap. "Any particular reason you got your aft parked in the middle of a buncha fresh scrap?" And then, to Dreadwind, "You got orders, or you just like t' loiter around in the street bein' useless?" Lastly, Blast Off. "You - get yer aft down here. I wanna get t' the bottom of this an' you're a witness." "MmHmm," Blast Off mutters at Rook, violet optics narrowing, "I'm sure you're really fair and truthful when reporting on the Decepticon cause..." He is being sarcastic, by the way. His grip on his gun tightens, though he doesn't lift it or do anything else. He huffs, then turns to Snaptrap. Hmm. The shuttleformer gazes cooly down at the Seacon Commander. "What is *that* supposed to mean, anyway?"
There's another huff as Barricade orders Blast Off down from his lofty perch. The sniper just stands there a moment, running his databanks and.... yeah. Barricade IS a Commanding Officer. Unfortunately. He still lingers on his perch, though, taking his sweet time before *finally* jumping down and coming down to land nearby with a sigh. "A witness to what? I just got here." Dreadwind internally debates the energy consumption necessary to answer Barricade. As it turns out sarcasm actually does expend more energy, so he opts for the more straightforward response. "A joint decision between Aerospace and Intelligence to send me out here in response to reports about an attack in this area." He mutters to himself, "Undoubtedly because they just didn't want me around..."
Rook watches the Decepticon interactions, and then finally turns to answer Garboil's question. "Yes. I am Rook. And I DO try to be accurate in my reports of the Decepticon cause," he replies to Blast Off, "or else how are we ever to resolve our differences if we can't understand what the other side wants? Someday, this war WILL end, and I want there to be an accurate record of what happened and why, so we can try to learn from our mistakes and not be doomed to repeat them again."
Snaptrap looks to Barricade, as if debating whether the littler 'Con even deserves an answer. He decides to throw him a bone. "Watch Rook's interview with me, and you will learn all I wish to divulge." He then looks to Blast Off. "I am not a Decepticon, put simply. I am a Seacon."
Dreadwing's melancholy reply actually brings a smirk to Barricade's face. "Well then, /sunshine/, looks like you get a chance t' be a team player." Blast Off asks the twenty-five thousand shanix question and Worst Cop waits to see how that plays out - and it does so as 'Cade suspected.
Garboil's wings lift almost imperceptibly as he receives a quiet transmission from his new commander. "Excuse me, a moment of your time, Mister Rook - Can you tell us what happened here?" he politely asks.
To the south, a feline cassette, as blue as Garboil, is padding softly into the area, towards Worst Cop.
Blast Off glances over to Rook. "Very well then. You'll forgive me if I don't immediately trust the word of an Autobot, but... /if/ that's true, then it is commendable. Facts are far preferable to raw emotion and propaganda." Now he turns to Snaptrap. "I... see." The Combaticon eyes the Seacon, something glimmering in his optics... could it be envy? The Combaticons are mercenaries and truly loyal only to themselves... living life like the Seacons would be a dream come true. But alas... not meant to be. Not yet, at least. "An independent team, then. ...Must be nice." His disinterested high-class drawl makes his tone hard to read- could be sarcasm, could be genuinely felt.
Rook nods and glances back at Snaptrap before stepping closer to Garboil. "Yes. Apparently Snaptrap was looking to talk to an Autobot, so he send his intelligence officer Seawing to make contact. However, Seawing's means of going about that was to attack Altihex so they would call the Autobots for help. Snaptrap apparently made the contact he needed, so he called a halt to the attack and is now waiting for his new Autobot connection to return."
Dreadwind looks at Rook for a few moments... and just continues to look at the reporter. His gaze looks between the other Decepticons. Cooling air whispers slowly around his faceplate in a long, drawn-out sigh. "I may be generally oblivious to everyone's pain but my own, and consequently the world around me in general... but that sounds fairly made-up to me."
Snaptrap frowns at Dreadwind. "I care not whether you believe what I have told Rook or not." He looks around at the assembled 'Cons with a bit of menace in his eyes. "Now that you have discovered what you came to learn, you can leave, so I can continue to wait for my liason." It's not a suggestion, really. More like an order.
Blast Off shoots Snaptrap an icy look and sniffs haughtily. "Well. Such rudeness." The Combaticon scoffs, brushing at one of the heat shields on his arm with the other hand. "But I suppose I am done here. For now. I have work to do." Like continuing his scouting and completing his scans, but he doesn't have to mention that HERE- on the GROUND. No, getting back up to the safety of the air would be better. Where he can keep an optic on what these Seacons are doing to his home city. He gives the others a very brief nod of farewell and turns to leave.
Dreadwind lifts an optic ridge at Snaptrap's comment, and then simply shrugs, "Please, don't let me stop you from... waiting." He turns slowly and begins wandering off. It's pretty clear that Snaptrap's tone wasn't really a deciding factor, judging by the meandering pace with which he seems to be departing. Surprise, surprise - someone else who doesn't want him around.
Autobot Rook watches the Decepticons leave, and then turns to Snaptrap. "I thank you for your time." He moves away from the others to compose and post his story.