| abstract | - Shark enters the Refugee Camp, green optics scanning it carefully for any sign of trouble or damage. Since meeting a large predator, he's been a bit worried those here may be in for a nasty surprise.. sooner rather than later. He's walking through, rifle gripped in his hand. Not long after Shark had entered, a small vehicle had come to a slow just outside the perimeter. Without waiting very long, it unfolded into a small femme, who then proceeded to head into the camp with a casual, almost impertinent bounce in her step. She certainly did not look like someone running for life or starving for energon. Shark stalks slowly, moving as if on a hunt. The locals seem to pick up on it and huddle inside their camps. His scanners are picking up the locals so far, no sign of something bigger. He may notice the blip that Swivel creates on his scanners, but he pays her no mind. Turning slowly on foot to scan to the west, he hmms softly. Then another pivot as he looks toward Swivel, or actually past her, making sure nothing is back that way visually. Swivel pauses a moment, her optics scanning the camp. Her information told her he'd likely be patrolling here. Finally they settle on the mech who was turning away, only to look back at her suddenly. She stiffens a little, wondering if she'd done something wrong or too suspicious. Then she realizes stiffening up in and of itself was suspicious. But then, what did it matter? She wasn't doing anything wrong. Rolling her shoulders and lifting her chin, she began to stride towards Shark, as he matched the VERY vague description given to her. However, so did some others. Still, it was worth a shot, and she considered herself a lucky femme, even if many, in their logic, did not believe in luck. "Helloooooo there!" she says, waving. Shark was just beginning to turn on a foot as he stops, glancing toward the approach of the femme. Not recognizing her as a local to the camp from his numerous times walking through here. "Good cycle." he offers softly, shifting his leg back to line up with the other. Resting the muzzle of his weapon on the palm of one hand so it tips up toward the sky towards the right. Trigger finger resting on the outside of the trigger guard. Swivel watches as the mech goes into a militant position, she nods again. "Yes, good cycle." She sidles a little closer. "Might you be Shark?" Swivel asks, taking the direct approach. Shark keeps tabs on his scanners as he replies, "I am, may I ask how you know my name?" he inquires curiously, studying her a little suspiciously. He didn't throw his name around casually when it came to neutrals, so this was intriguing to say the least. Swivel offers a large, friendly smile. She doesn't seem to mind the suspicious look he was giving her. "Well, someone told me your name. How else would I know?" she responds. She lowers her voice just a little, still wearing a pleasant smile. "I'm just a messenger, sir." Shark gives you a slow smile, "Really.. and who was that I do wonder." that smile spreading until you can just see the tips of his pointy, sharp teeth. "And what is your message?" he inquires. Swivel nonchalantly reaches into a small compartment on the hip of her chassis, sort of like a pocket, and brings out a data chip. She's not worried about this exchange looking suspicious, because worrying about it would be. She offers it to Shark, not seeming perturbed by his sharp teeth. They were, after all, included in the description of the intended recipient. It removed any doubt that this was who she was looking for. "This is your message, sir. I was assured you'd know what it was. Though I don't think it'd be polite to say who it was from." Shark watches you carefully, tensing just a hint until he sees it's just a data chip you are retrieving from your hip compartment. He shifts a hand toward you to take the chip, "Ah, yes, I do believe I know of whom you speak. Did that person need my information delivered by you then?" he asks, putting the chip in his subspace for safe keeping, he can look at it later. Swivel blinks her optics. There is a lapse of silence, but then she nods her head. "Of course, sir. Do you have your report ready, or shall I come back to retrieve it at a later time?" She keeps her attention fully on Shark, never glancing about herself. She'd learn constantly looking over one's shoulders just made people think you were doing something underhanded. Of course, she wasn't. Not at all. Shark inclines his head to the reply, "I have some information to give you then. Did he pay you for the return?" he asks, reaching into sub space again to snag a envelope that holds a printed reported and a data chip of what he learned. This he offers to you, though taking note of anyone happening to look their way. Pays to know who's watching.. who you may have to convince they saw nothing out of the ordinary. Swivel flickers her optics again. "Do not worry at all, he has my needs taken care of. Although I would not be adverse to an additional tip for my pleasant services," Swivel says, grinning even more widely. It looks as if her grin were to get any larger, it would either slide off her face, or bend her head's shape in strange ways. She reaches to retrieve the envelope, keeping constant optic contact with Shark, aside from when he broke it to glance about. Shark looks back to you, green optics intense. "Good." he notes, relaxing just a hint. Then he offers her a few credits, "You will keep this to yourself, do I make myself very clear?" he asks, just a hint of warning to it. Swivel bobs her head enthusiastically, not seeming to be intimidated but is compliant all the same. "Of course! Set your worries aside! And thank you for the tip, its real kind of you!" Shark hmms softly, then relaxes just a hint more. "You are welcome. I trust you will let me know that the individual received this and is pleased with what is within?" he asks, still monitoring his scanners all the while. The locals seem to be peeking out now curiously. "If that is what pleases you, then I'll make my way back here and let you know!" She bows her head a little, then, for the first time, looks beyond Shark as the refugees begin to unhuddle. Her optics flicker for a moment, and her smile looks as though it's s train to continue to wear, if only for a fleeting moment, before she sets out her jaw and pushes away whatever thoughts were arising. She looks back at Shark and tucks the envelope away. "Anything else, or may I get going?" Shark inclines his head, then looks thoughtful a moment, "One other thing, keep your audios alert for any talk about a huge creature." this said in a near whisper, just for her to hear and no others, best not to frighten the locals into a panic. "If you hear anything, try to find out where it was spotted, what it was doing, then get back to me on it." Swivel nods her head slowly. "A huge creature... just... um... how huge are we talking?" Swivel inquires. After all, with the dynamic variety in sizes Transformers themselves came in, huge could be a very relative term. Shark replies, "Size of Omega's tank give you an idea? Just a bit longer though. And it flies." Swivel brings a hand up to her chin, tapping it in thought as she imagines this large flying creature. She gives a series of short nods. "Alright, if I hear or see anything, I'll investigate, and let you know my findings, but this is a job I cannot guarantee satisfaction." Shark inclines his head to that, "Understood, now off with you, the quicker that information is delivered the better.. I've a creature to hunt." Swivel gives one more nod, pulls a sloppy, almost comical salute, and then pivots on her heel. She hurries off, transforming into her faster mode. --- Goa's trajectory, and the grumbling of an engine low on fuel, hint at a soldier on his way in from a long patrol. But the green buggy's paused here, circling the spire a couple of times. Good memories, though one might not expect it to look upon the tower. So deep in Decepticon territory, he isn't even looking for contacts -- just enjoying the quiet a little longer before shouldering his way into the bustle of Polyhex. Swivel had been skirting around the edges of Decepticon territory, occasionally going in closer, but never so bold as to enter the long stretch of flat land around the actual fortress. That would be suicide. Yet, she made her way to the spire, despite its macabre ambience, what with there being corpses hanging about. Not being entirely alone, the little vehicle, all wheels and almost no body, rolled over to the buggy, her engine purring more than rattling. Goa picks up a sound that isn't jets, but he's not sure if it's just his own echo. So to be sure, he coasts to a stop -- still there. His grenade turret pops up like a periscope, rotating backwards to a fix on Swivel. Another Decepticon roller? This could be interesting. But there's no Decepticon brand on it. If his targeting sensor could squint, it would -- he can't see much of /anything/ on it, save tires. Surely none of the scavengers were dense enough to follow him home ... The small vehicle slows abruptly seeing the turret turn to face it. It slows to a stop idling for a moment, just the slightest sight of a narrow chassis wedged between four very VERY large wheels. It isn't quite close enough to be heard without screaming a vocal transmission, and a sudden movement like transforming might be unwise. Might be. Nonetheless, this is what occurs. The small vehicle unfolds, and surely the laws of physical would scream at how such a seemingly tiny frame could turn into Swivel, the tires neatly folding behind her. Swivel isn't sure that this buggy is Goa, but considering most Decepticons are aerial vehicles, she felt her chances were strong. Goa doesn't seem in the least perturbed by the neutral's gross violation of physics. It could be that he's seen Megatron transform a couple of times. It could also be that he's just stupid. Lucky for Swivel, the 'Con she's found isn't particularly trigger-happy -- in fact, the turret folds back flat against his hull. Goa's limbs all fold out from under him at once, and he turns around, taking long-fast strides to close the distance. His face is unmistakable, as is the way he constantly checks behind (and, considering the territory, over) himself. But were he any other mech, his posture might seem to say 'get out'. Swivel waits where she is until the distance, is indeed, closed. She offers up a smile, and shifts her weight from one foot to the other, setting her hips at a slant becoming of the figure her body was molded into. She doesn't seem to be thinking of doing anything like fleeing, and already sets out on a cool, conversational tone. "I was just gonna wait and hoped you'd come by a bar again, but, ah, I got impatient," she says with a wink of her optics. Goa smiles weakly as he gets close enough to hear, but his antenna behave welded into an anxious downward arrow. He slows down and stands straighter, but doesn't stop completely, motioning for the femme to walk with him. "Then I owe you hazard pay. What is it?" Swivel beams and walks with Goa, shrugging her shoulders casually. "I'm not going to cause you any trouble by coming this way, am I? I figure not, because I ain't anyone's enemy and like to keep it that way." She falls in step, very close to Goa, and a hand casually reaches to a compartment and brings out an envelope. "This is for you - and of course hazard pay would be nice if you are willing to part with it." "Can't cause me trouble, Swivel. Trouble stalks me and jumps out at the smallest opportunity." Goa tries to defuse himself with humor, succeeding to some degree, as his antennae seem more willing to move now. Now they just look like angry orange eyebrows. He swipes the envelope, looking over both sides of it. He tries to pry it open with his hands without much success... "Let me know what kinda payment you want for this thing," The mech's words start to drop consonants, as he seems to be trying to take one of his fangs to the container, "and I am." Swivel lets out bubbles of laughter at Goa's joke as they walk along. "Well, you DID mention some information that perked my interest... routes and all that. I'd be willing to accept that on top of the credits you owe me for crossing the boundaries..." she drops off to consider really what that was really worth. After all, she could not really put a price on anyone's life, even her own. She watches as he tried to get the envelope open, it containing both a written report and a data chip inside, and shakes her head, laughing some more. "But I must say my job ain't over til you get that thing open and have a look. I was told to make sure it was delivered and that you was pleased with what was inside." Goa's antennae droop. He'd expected a charge, sure. But that didn't keep him from wondering about how he was going to keep the tank full the next few cycles... he was enjoying not borrowing from his fellow 'Cons. At any rate, his dental plates made short work of the seal -- he peeks inside, holds the envelope with chip in his teeth, and skims over the report. "Hmm..." He decelerates for a couple of steps, then stops, taking away the envelope to talk. "Pleased ... might not be the word." Goa glances over at Swivel with an exhausted look in his optics. "What I was hoping for, though." From his subspace, the Decepticon takes a respectable-sized energon credit. Enough to cover a slaggin' party at the Sleazo. Goa holds it out toward her. Swivel watches Goa tentatively as he looks over the report, her smile dissolving into a pure look of curiosity. She even goes onto her tippy toes, lifting her head a little as she waits, and then falls back onto her heels with a thump when he says he's not necessarily pleased. However, her smile returns when he says it was what he was hoping for. She glances at the credit. She takes, it, trying not to look too eager despite her being delighted at receiving it. "Thank you VERY much! I'll buy you a drink sometime..." she says. It didn't occur to her how much was being given up, and that she could have waited someplace safer and not hoisted the additional fees upon a seemingly respectable soldier. The credit is gone in an instant and she bows her head. "As for the information, that can be given at another time. I must return to Mr. Pointy-teeth as soon as possible." Goa smiles softly. He can't help but be a little moved by Swivel's enthusiasm ... even if that was the last of his saved-up rations. "Mister Pointy-teeth." Goa's face wrenches, then he bursts into a snicker. "You know the body shop outside Cubicron? Look there. Two or four cycles from now." He wasn't about to make the mistake of missing a rendezvous again, and sneaking a couple off shifts into work at Torque's would help with the whole being-poor issue. Goa leans forward slightly to tuck the package and its contents into the cab on his back. "Catch you later, Swivel." --- Shark is still patrolling the Refugee Camp, rifle in hand. Only the older and braver locals are watching on curiously now, whispering to each other about what the Autobot could be looking for in their camp. The small vehicle comes rushing down the road towards the camp, the same small frame dwarfed, if not hidden, by its four very large wheels. It rolls to a stop before transforming into the petite form of Swivel who then walks confidently towards the camp, searching again for Shark to finish her errand. Shark spots the speeding dot on his scanners, turning toward it to see what it is.. he looks relieved that it's Swivel. "Swivel, over here." Upon hearing, and then seeing Shark, she smiles and saunters over in his direction. Upon closing the distance between then, she gives him a thumbs up and cheerfully says "All's good, sir!" After a brief pause, she lets her arms hang at her side again. "The information was what he'd hope. I didn't see any, uh, large creatures though. I haven't had time to do any 'splorin... but I'll still keep me sense keen for any mention or sitings." Shark inclines his head to the thumbs up and affirmation that the package was delivered and the receiver was pleased in some form. "Good, glad to see you made it there and back without any issues." then a pause as you tell him about not seeing anything, "Very well, I appreciate you keeping an optic open." "I'm glad I made it there and back safely too. Bad enough it'd be to get wrecked, but what tragedy it'd be if yer info never got to its intended target, or worse, in the wrong hands... if there is such a thing. Honestly don't know what it was and don't care to, sir." Although she vaguely remembered Goa saying something about Black Markets, but he was also a little inebriated when he first gave her the job, and had said a lot she figured she ought to forget. She continue to smile, then glanced at the camp, looking at some of the down trodden locals. "Hard times these cycles have brought us, eh, sir?" Shark shifts his rifle arm down, putting a bit more weight on his right foot as his free hand comes up to rest on his hip. He hmms to your words and says, "Sounds like you know your business, Swivel. I may have to keep you in mind for any future messages that need to be taken care of.." he drifts off there and notices you looking around. "Yes, indeed." he agrees. Swivel crosses her arms over her chest, slowly peeling her gaze away from the refugees and back to Shark. "I try to know my business. Don't know it, and you end up dead or mangled. Not sure which is worse as I avoid both, sir. I would be happy to take more jobs from you in the future as well, but I will say one thing - if it's going to be real dangerous, I take expect you to arrange someone with some fighting know-how, or give me additional credits in order to hire myself an escort. I ain't a battle-ready femme. I'm a hider and a runner, sir." Shark hmms softly to that, then nods. "I'll look into that. I assure you my intentions were not to get you into some sort of fight." he pauses a moment, looking around as a local is taking a keen interest in them. "If need be, I'll escort you myself." he states carefully, then refocuses on you intently. Swivel allows her smile to expand to what is hopefully the limits. "That would be swell, sir," she responds enthusiastically. "At any rate, 'less you got a job right here and now, I got some creds burning in my compartment and needs to be met, 'else I won't be any good to nobody." Shark considers a few moments, then shakes his head, "Nothing right now. Go take care of what you need to do. If I need you, I'll contact you." "Aight, sounds great. Hope ya... ahem... I hope that you have a safe cycle, and it was a pleasure doing business with you," she says, switching to a more formal, or at least less casual, form of speech. Whether this is done in farce or earnest is hard to tell as she gives a little bow before turning to head off towards the highways. Shark gives a little salute, then turns to continue his patrol of the area.
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