Racing for Rights - RPLOG
Participants
Date
29/5/2014
Log
A tall and slender rodent stands before the gates where racers are normally sent to be raced, her hands on hips and a scowl on her face. She wears a Promethean badge, and her head is adorned with a hardhat with christmas lights flickering quietly. "It's not right!" she proclaims loudly, "They're people too. They can be educated and saved from the darkness that has them."
A odd looking jackal walks behind the rodent, a gentle and soft tone is heard on his words a he speaks "Excuse me, miss... Something bothering you? You look a bit conflicted with something..." he stops beside the female rodent, a wide smile forms on his face "Something with the racers I guess..." he adds.
Cookies arrives to the scene looking rather curious, having heard of some Prommie yelling about racers around here. Never was a fan of it, never even saw it once, but this seemed worth looking into. She listens to what little she catches of her rant after arriving and strokes her chin, giving her foot a few solid taps against the ground. "Pardon, ma'am," she calls out to the rodent. "Do elaborate. Your word has gotten around, but as someone who has only ever heard of the races, I could do with a touch of extra enlightenment on the matter, particularly from your perspective."
Hearing about a disturbance, Dio makes her way to the arena. Having been within the location only a very few times before nearly a year ago, she takes a few moments to peer around, eventually finding the star of the hour. "Good afternoon," the maid dress wearing cat girl greets with a small bow, arm rest across her stomach. "Indeed," she agrees with the fellow cat girl with a nod. "I am afraid that I have never used this racing program before. I've always found it to be a touch... Strange, for lack of a better word, but I'm afraid I'm unresearched in the topic."
"As you are surely aware," states the Prommie, "Many mutants, with proper education and therapy, can be brought around to civility. It's a hard and long process, but isn't it worth it to save a soul?" she asks with obvious passion, "They treat the racers as nothing more than livestock, to be trained and raced until they die with no other regard for their well being!"
Mackenzie raises an eyebrow and giggles "Souls... Yeah, indeed every soul deserves to be saved... But you know that shouting to those who keep the mutants as a livestock, and demanding them to do what you want dont make you better than them." the jackal places a hand on the rodent shoulder, trying to look friendly as he can, he give a greeting nod to the two felines that soon arrives the place. "If you are able to calm youself a bit we can make everything clear and easier to everyone, 'kay?".
Cookies nods firmly, then smiles widely towards Dio. "I was a little less than sane for a while, but I had enough people who cared around to bring me out of it. Walked that long path myself," she replies. As the Prommie continues, Cookies looks more concerned. "You know, I never really thought about it that way. I figured the racers were all... Y'know, like, pro athlete mutants or something. Probably should've looked into this more before, come to think of it." Her arms cross under her chest and she frowns deeply, looking between Mackenzie and the rodent for a moment, fixing her gaze on the latter. "So... Well, say, hypothetically of course, that I agree with you. What can we do about it?"
"Quite," Dio replies, resting two hands upon her folded apron. "I am familiar with the Promethian ideals. I used to live within a Promethian family of sorts who would help recover ferals and I am a student of their Flame Bearer training. It is a very nice program." Idly, the cat girl peers about the race track and then puts a hand upon Cookies' shoulder after reveling her previous problem that had troubled them not so long ago. "If what you say rings true, then we certainly have a problem in regards to morality. I am curious about these racers. In fact, I would like to interview one if possible. If they're being held against their will, we shall see what we can do. Otherwise, we'll just have to see. Now then, there has to be a manager or something around here. Else we may probably head over to where they are stationing the racers in question."
The Prommie makes a wide gesture at the tracks, "IF," she says, "And this is a large if, this was a voluntary racing league, where its participants were fully aware, and willing, then I would have no objection to it. There's no shame in physical pursuits, but when you make someone do it blindly, that's just slavery. They race because they don't know any other way. They race because they get fed and fucked afterwards." She turns a little red in her ears as she describes the last part, anger building. "They don't know any other way. They can't fight for themselves so here I am, and I don't plan on just walking away and letting them forget I was here."
She doesn't have any racers with her, just blocking the gate with her form and all. There are some, waiting in a haphazard que, waiting for her to get out of the way.
Cookies nods towards the Promethean in agreement and cracks her knuckles, glancing around and rolling her shoulders a bit. She glances sideways up at Dio, then back to the rodent. "Well, I really can't disagree with you. You have me quite convinced what's going on here is pretty blatantly amoral and deprives these mutants of a chance to really live. But you still didn't really answer my question." She uncrosses one of her arms to gesture around with that hand. "What's the plan? Like, to get past the possible mob of fans and people who own racers. I figure you'll want to take them to New Dawn for rehab, right?" She nods towards Dio. "And I agree with the lio-- I mean other cat. Before I really make any rash decisions I want to see what's going on for myself. Erm. Caaan they even talk?"
"It's worth a try, my dearest and lovely cat girl," Dio claims with a small chuckle. The second gloved hand comes down upon Cookies' free shoulder. Thumbs digging in lightly, she begins a gentle massaging motion before nodding towards the queue of racers. "Good afternoon, racers," she greets, making her voice nice and loud for them to hear. "Would any of you be so kind as to take some time for an interview? If you do, I'll see to it that you recieve some food for your time. We have a few questions regarding the internal operations of this establishment."
The racers look at Dio a bit perplexedly, then look to their owners, who are busy looking impatient about the whole thing. One of said owners asks, "Could you get her to move out of the way? Why don't they have security in this place?" Another joins in the sentiment, building into a rapid chorus of demands for her removal.
Mackenzie stares fiercily and deep into the owners's eyes "She is going ANYWHERE, till we decide to do something. You guys can be nice and cooperate or we can find our own way to solve the problem" the jackal angrily says to the chorus, trying to keep them quiet. "Any of your racers can speak? Or can at least understand what we say?" he asks, his hieroglyphs shinning brighter aswell as his eyes.
* not
Cookies quirks her brow and huffs at the owners, as well as Mackenzie. "All of you need to take a chill pill," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. She saunters her way over to the gates and stands in front of them along with the rodent. "But most of you need medication a hell of a lot stronger than that if you think any of this is okay in any way. She's right. This is slavery, and you are slavers." Her tail whips around behind her in annoyance. "They deserve rehabilitation as much as anyone else does. The fact that you have them so placated is nearly a miracle, but /this/ is what you've done with it?"
The irritation grows dangerously swiftly even as one of the racers edges up, "'cuse me," says the heavy set equine racer, "I wanna race please. I'm gonna win and get big prizes," he says with an eager and simple smile, even if his words are half drowned by angry shouts and demands for action.
Dio holds up a hand and shakes her head. "There is no need for anyone to get upset or throw about accusations. We only desire a nice conversation. After finding out the information that we need, we shall depart and you'll head back to your races. After all, instigating a fight would be the worst possible result for both sides, so please, just a few words and all will be well."
Hearing a racer speak up, Dio's ears perk up, eyes searching for the origin. "Ah! So you do it for prizes, do you? Is this all a voluntary program?" Giving a throat clearing cough, the cat girl raises her voice to a shouting level, attempting to spur the racers. "Racers! Speak up! Is this the course you wish to take? Are you happy with racing? If so, speak up! Shout with pride in the excitement for your next race if it is so!"
Oh the shouting. It grows worse as some of the racers join in the cacophony. The line pushes forward as one and the Prommie protester has not a hope to hold them back, shoved right off to the side to fume and glare impotently as the races prepare to resume function.
Still, the moment is gone, and she recognizes it. She moves to depart with what dignity remains. "I'll be back with friends and we'll prove this whole thing is a travesty!" Not that anyone cares much anymore with her not in the way of things.
Cookies peers at the equine and offers a wide smile. Finally, one that would talk. "That's nice. What are you gonna do with those prizes, though?" She edges a little closer herself. "You're going to be fed, given a place to stay, sometimes a big prize when you win, as long as you keep racing. Sounds like a good enough deal," she muses, "but what are your owners getting that you aren't? Have you given that thought? Think about it. They're living a life that you'll never even know as long as you're still racing your own life away. There's more to this world than big races and big prizes." Once they all start shouting and such, though, she finds herself quieting and backing off. She's quickly pushed aside by the line herself along with the rodent, looking somewhat similarly disgruntled.
"How interesting," Dio mumbles under her breath as she finds herself forced back as to not get in the way. "This demands further investigation, but energy level is too high for any calm and useful conversation." Once more, the cat girl puts a hand on Cookies' shoulder and lets out a small sigh. "Perhaps we'll come back later and attempt to find the manager of this place. Someone has to be regulating the prizes and organizing the races here."
