Interrogations and Intrigues

[SceneMod]

Follows Looking For an Ego in a Haystack, which actually wrapped on Day 3. Event Horizon. Semi-private for now.

Buu'lock met Mon-T'ya and company at the spaceport and is now walking with her and Springer through the.- what'd they call themselves? Autobot's ship. His craggy face is set to permanent scowl as he stalks next to his partner. That scientist guy had veered off with the kook, and those kids went somewhere, but Buu'lock isn't really concerned with any of them.

What he is concerned with is the upcoming meeting with these guys's boss. Mon-T'ya keeps shooting him those Looks, the ones that say he better play nice, but he really isn't in the mood to be nice. Trouble. The whole lot of 'em is trouble, he's sure of it.

Oh, yeah, and this Springer fellow has already gotten in trouble with the black and whites, so that really isn't helping Buu'lock's opinion.

Mon-T'ya in contrast, is trying to at least me moderately pleasant. She attempts casual small talk at first, then brings the topic around to more serious things.

"So, Springer, what exactly happened the other day, when you got arrested?"

[Springer]

Springer's rather neutral on Buu'lock - seemed like an okay enough guy over the phone. Yeah, he seems like he's suspicious of the Autobots, but given that they kind of exploded into Pz-Zazz, Springer's willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

And...wow, Mon-T'ya wastes no time cutting right to things. Hoo. "That," Springer starts, then sighs, brushing a hand over his helm. "That was a mess, to say the very least. To clarify my actions, I gotta preface it with something. The crew I'm a part of here, we're the Autobots - we come from a planet called Cybertron. Our race used to be one, but eventually civil war broke out and we split into two factions - us Autobots, and the Decepticons. They wanted conquest, we wanted peace. We couldn't agree, so we've been fighting for millennia." A pause to let that process before Springer continues.

"Me, I'm a soldier - I've spent a good chunk of my life shooting at other robots wearing the Decepticon badge. It's sad, but it's a fact of life for me. Now, the other day..." Springer starts. "...the other day, myself and a small portion of our crew were going on a mission of exploration away from our ship - maybe find some sources of energy, see what's out in this area. Our ship - which doubled as one of our crew members - suffers a malfunction and explodes. We crash here. We're trying to recover from this, put off by the general fact that we just crashed on a planet not known to us, people are hurt and we need to clean this up and show that we come in peace." Springer makes a face as he starts the next part. "Cue Decepticons - they're opportunists, liars, eager to do anything to get one over on us. Myself and Long Haul - another crewmember - were talking to those two cops. Don't think I ever actually got their names. Anyway, we see some Decepticon soldiers flying around up high, and then one starts to divebomb us - Long Haul and the cops take cover. Me, being the soldier I am, I do what I'm used to doing - I pull my rifle and open fire, because I'll be slagged if I'm gonna stand by and let a bunch of 'Cons pick off a bunch of my crew!"

Another pause. "...so yeah, I was just looking out for my comrades, given our history with the Decepticons - who took the opportunity to play the victim and spin it around on us." Springer scowls at just the memory of it.

[Emirate Xaaron]

Emirate Xaaron has been informed that Detective Buu'lock wishes to speak with him, so he paces on over. As far as he's concerned, the Event Horizon is in no condition to host guests - they don't have seven large artillery pieces just hanging out in the hallway, but working with what he has on hand is all he can ever do.

He turns a corner and spots Springer with two unfamiliar creatures, so he holds out a hand to shake, greets, and introduces, "Hello. I'm Emirate Xaaron. I take it one of you is Detective Buul'lock and the other is..." He smiles a dazzling smile, looking from one detective to the other. "I must apologise, I'm not trying to be a dreadful host, but I don't think we have any snacks, unless you enjoy Nebulan MREs," and Emirate Xaaron somehow suspects that even Nebulans don't enjoy those, "or Gillanan III biomass."

Also, Botanica will probably yell at him if he lets random cops eat the grass.

[SceneMod]

Buu'lock's scowl gets darker as Springer gives them the History of the Cybertronian Wars: Abridged Version 246.

"So. What you's saying is that your lot has brought your firkin' feud to my city. Ain't that just peachy."

Mon-T'ya, meanwhile looks disturbed, "You say the other guy seemed to divebomb you, but wasn't firing weapons, and you still shot at him?" Her lips purse into a frown. "Sounds like someone else I know." She cuts her eyes over at her partner, only to be distracted from further comment by the glint of gold and silver.

Oh look. Shiny curves ahead.

Buu'lock doesn't seem inclined to shake hands, so Mon-T'ya takes both the Emirate's hand and the initiative. "Detective Mon-T'ya, sir, and yes, this is Detective Buu'lock, my partner. Refreshments aren't necessary, but thank you for the off-."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah.. can we just skip the pleasantries and find someplace to sit and get on with things?" Buu'lock interrupts.

[Springer]

Springer looks a bit deflated when Buu'lock points out the core of the issue. "Not intentionally, Detective - we'll be doing our best to avoid confrontation with the Decepticons while we work on recovering our wreckage and cleaning up our mess." Springer frowns, though. "However, we're not perfect."

Then Mon-T'ya jabs a hole in Springer's argument. "Ah... I was acting based on knowledge of past encounters with that particular Decepticon. It was still out of line though."

Oh hey, there's Xaaron! Then Buu'lock butts in again, and Springer motions ahead. "There's a lounge area at the end of this hallway."

[Emirate Xaaron]

Emirate Xaaron smiles at Buul'lock and comments brightly, "I like you already, Detective Buul'lock." He's not the first disgruntled man to ask Xaaron to can the chatter and get to the point.

He observes coolly, "In war, the first shot can often be the last shot," and glances over at Springer, who is admitting that he was wrong to shoot at a Decepticon? What. Emirate Xaaron makes a face. "The reflex programming that we tend to develop, if we survive, can be rather maladaptive in a civilian situation. I know that's no excuse, mind you."

Emirate Xaaron also offers, "There is also my office, if the lounge does not suffice."

[SceneMod]

Buu'lock waves his hand, "Whichever. Just pick a place. Also," he shoots Mon-T'ya a Look, "She's my partner. I got rank."

Said partner sighs and rolls her eyes skyward, her breath puffing her bangs up a bit. Her expression is long-suffering, as if Buu'lock's rudeness was commonplace.

It is.

"We get our share of warrior types, Emirate Xaaron, I- is Emirate your first name or a title, may I ask?- and we have our share of accidents. But well...you lot have been pulling the spotlight down on yourselves rather hard.," she says.

Both detectives follow the Autobots to whichever seating area has been decided on.

[Springer]

Springer is admitting that it was wrong to shoot at one on Pz-Zazz because he wasn't shot at first!

Once the group reaches the lounge, Springer takes a seat in one of a group of chairs surrounding a small table. As the pair are here to talk to Xaaron, he will just observe for the time being.

[Emirate Xaaron]

"You may certainly ask," Emirate Xaaron replies, amused. "It's a title. The concept doesn't exactly translate well into this language, but trust me, Emirate is actually a better translation than Emir would be."

He circles around the table, pulling out the chairs that the detectives might sit down. He says sincerely enough, "The spotlight is the exact opposite of what I would prefer. Omega Supreme exploding and crash-landing was an accident and a very unfortunate one at that." He rubs his temples and sighs.

[SceneMod]

Dectective Mon-T'ya hesitates, but allows herself to be seated. Detective Buu'lock...more or less snatches the chair out of Xaaron's hands, flips it so that the seat is facing him, and the plunks himself down, elbows balanced on the chair back.

"Yeah, well," he starts, as he slips a toothpick out of his trench coal pocket. The detective examines the bit of wood for a minute before placing it between his lips, "I've seen more than my share of 'unfortunate accidents' in my day. Never seen someone deliberately-on-purpose blow their own shuttle up, though which is why you guys are getting the benefit of the doubt. Plus...them purple folk strike me as a bit too smooth."

He jabs a thumb toward Springer. "Yeah, but that don't excuse fightin' in the middle of a crisis zone. Nor does it excuse tearing off like some insane freak across half the town, wrecking up things and causing all sorts of confusion. What, you tin cans ain't been nowhere civilized before?"

Mon-T'ya literally facepalms at that last line. Way to be diplomatic Buu'lock.

[Springer]

Springer's starting to like this Buu'lock fellow a little less.

His optics narrow a bit as he leans forward on one arm. "I'm aware that it's no excuse, Detective - but I still stand by that I was protecting my crew based on past interactions with the divebombing Decepticon." He glances aside, then looks back at Buu'lock. "If you saw some known gang member or mafia thug - someone you've crossed paths with in the past involving violence - and they were charging you and your partner here... Given that you know they've had ill will at you in the past, would you not take some kind of action to protect those under your charge, law be damned?"

[Emirate Xaaron]

"They are Decepticons," Emirate Xaaron observes mildly. "And Predacons. Sometimes Vehicons. Decievers, predators, and... vehicles." He shrugs.

He also adds, "Some of us haven't been anywhere civilised, I am afraid. I suppose I should have put them through formal etiquette training," he rolls his optics at the thought, "but I really wasn't expecting them to need it. Not much use, where I come from."

Emirate Xaaron looks at Springer curiously and then the Detectives, wondering how that excuse will fly. Truly, like the flight of an arrow, or twisted, like a helicopter?

[SceneMod]

"Etiquette is always a good weapon to have in one's arsenal, Emirate," Mon-T'ya interrupts, before Buu'lock can snap back at Springer, "Even if it's not something that gets brought out very often, simply knowing how to use it effectively can give a person an edge."

She smiles grimly, "Even here. Especially here."

She tilts her head to frown at Springer, "You could have talked your way out of the whole mess, if either you or that other fellow-"

Buu'lock breaks in, "What I'd do, Mr. Couldn't-Keep-Tabs-On-My-People," he jabs a finger at Springer, "is apply some context to the situation. Which you didn't. You just shot outta habit, an' probably preference, so stop pretending it was some noble thing. You hate those guys, they hate you, and that's that."

He pulls a folder out of his jacket and slaps it down on the table and pushes it toward Xaaron, "There's the police report, written up by the officers who responded, who're more or less honest. Yeah, they take bribes, but they don't falsify reports when it comes to eye-witnessing. If you want an accounting that isn't colored by your boy's point of view."

There's also all the paperwork on Sentinel's rampage, including Misfire and Skystrike's statements, if Xaaron cares to read it.

[Springer]

"Yeah, your officers, who, if I recall correctly, took cover as soon as Duskwing started diving!" Springer says, smacking his fist against the table, then jabs a finger right back at Buu'lock. "If I hadn't have acted first, you might not have those two officers on payroll right now!" Springer then looks over at Mon-T'ya. "In my experience, talking things out with a Decepticon just sets you up so you can get stabbed in the back when you let your guard down."

[Emirate Xaaron]

“Oh, I’d be the first Autobot to agree,” Emirate Xaaron replies wearily to Mon-T’ya. “It’s just…” Emirate Xaaron thinks, for a moment, about some of his more recent commissions back home. He imagines trying to haul Roadhandler and the Race Car Patrol to etiquette lessons, and he makes a face, then spreads his hands out as if to ask, ‘What can you do?’, and sighs.

He takes the folders and reads through them rather carefully, replying smoothly, “Thank you, Detective.” Now, what is there here, anyway? Emirate Xaaron knows Springer’s judgement isn’t the best – throwing waves of Autobots at Kup to rescue him when a proper specialist was already en route?

This isn’t Cybertron, where he can just deal with problem soldiers via court martial. He has to work within an alien legal system, so speaking of which, Emirate Xaaron looks up from his reading and inquires, “How much is going to cost me to acquire a copy of the legal code here?” This is Pz-Zazz, and Emirate Xaaron is learning swiftly enough that everything has a price. Steepling his fingers, he concludes, “After all, ignorance is no excuse, so a firm understanding of the law, written and unwritten, is going to be my best tool, here.”

He looks over at Springer and suggests mildly, “Funny. I thought you were Springer, not Twin Twist. Stop digging yourself into a hole. The good Detectives do not strike me as overly fond of after the fact rationalizations.”