2017-10-20 Deceiptibarbeque

From Transformers: Lost and Found

2017-10-20 Deceiptibarbeque
Date 2017/10/20
Location Deathsaurus's Warworld
Participants Deathsaurus, Blackstorm, Windblade, Starstruck, Adagio, Blast Off, Breakdown
NPCs Leozack, Killbison
Summary Deathsaurus invites the Decepticons (and some Neutrals) to his place for some grillin'.

As the newly minted supreme commander of all Decepticons (as ordained by Soundwave (until Megatron comes back (which Deathsaurus doesn't necessarily agree with, but that can be dealt with later))), and having recently been introduced to some of the Cybertronians who have been spending their time on the Lost Light, Deathsaurus has decided it's high time to conduct a ritual that occurs somewhat regularly on his warworld: a cookout. The invite went out for all Decepticons and neutrals - no Autobots, please, at this time, this is a Decepticon team build, thank you - and the day has arrived.

The "out" part of the cookout isn't literal, as it's much less comfortable outside of the warworld. In space. Instead, there is a wide open area with a high vaulted ceiling and scattered tables and seats used for the occasion. Off to one side is a station for performing music or playing it from recordings. Here and there, simple games, usually involving skillful throwing of things at other things. On another side, a wide, rectangular, chromed box, raised up on a set of adjustable legs; a pinkish glow shines through the grilled top surface. It is behind this where Deathsaurus stands, hunched over a side cabinet rummaging or preparing or something, wings twitching.

Transport for guests from Rigard was a bit tricky; the planet's location needs to remain a secret from Deathsaurus and his crew, so the space bridge sent travelers to a shuttle parked at a rendezvous point, a short flight away from Deathsaurus's fleet. Now, as everyone enters the chamber, they can see that a modest contingent of Decepticons already mills about, chatting with each other, and munching on ... some sort of solid food things. One Decepticon breaks away and skips over eagerly. "Hello, friends! I'm Leozack, second in command of the PDF and our glorious Decepticon fleet. We're so glad you could join us." Other attendees peer over, with varying levels of interest and apparent welcome.

Starstruck is SO PUMPED. This whole shift in Decepticon leadership thing has been on the back of his mind since it happened, not something that really affected things much but certainly something to think about, and he's glad to finally have the opportunity to really meet Deathsaurus in the flesh. Or, well, the armor. He's heard things, as everyone has HEARD THINGS, about Desu and his war world, and now he's here! Actually here!!

This is gonna be so cool.

Starstruck's optics, hidden by his visor, immediately fall on the music station, but he's distracted from making a beeline for it by Leozack's arrival. "Yo, Leo! I'm Starstruck, nice to meet you." He holds out a fist to be pumped, even though the likelihood of Leozack understanding the gesture is null. "The 'PDF'? Thought this was the Warworld?"

<FS3> Adagio rolls Shyness: Good Success. (7 5 3 6 5 7 4 7)

Ohhh gosh a party. With crowds. Crowds of people in a party. And Adagio isn't even a Decepticon, though he's friends with at least two of them. In fact, he outright hero-worships one Decepticon and is quite fond of another, namely Starstruck, who he is following slowly and timidly like a shy baby duck. A shy baby duck who towers over just about everyone else present even when he hunches over, looking around at all the unfamiliar faces.

But this is good! This is getting him out, and he can learn more about Decepticons. He did read Towards Peace! That counts for something. He can do this. He can eat and drink and enjoy himself and open up and go.




"Um, hello," he murmurs to Leozack with a little head-bob. "I'm Adagio. I'm not-um, I mean, I'm open to, uh..."

The reasons for Windblade to be here aren't extensive. As she explained them to Chromia, however, they are compelling: meet Deathsaurus, observe Decepticons in their natural habitat, and play the quiet diplomat improving ties all around. Also, new food! She didn't mention that last part to Chromia-- who is around here somewhere probably looming and frowning at people-- but it also fits on the list. She is a tourist, and as such her demeanor is peaceable and respectful, with rotors stilled, and engines pitched at a serene hum.

The Cityspeaker has come unarmed save for the blade-less sword hilt which clicks and clacks at her hip, all ornate and age-darkened. She keeps a hand on it while tilting her equally ornate head to steal a quick survey before fixing her smile on Leozack. "Windblade of Caminus," is offered on the heels of other introductions. "A pleasure, thank you for having us. It was kind of you to open the invitation to neutrals is what Adagio is trying to say, I think."

No fist bumps here, though she /does/ cast a speculative glance at her own knuckles. Huh. That could be fun.

It is relatively unusual for Breakdown to attend a party without his better half, but for whatever reason, he does not have Knock Out along. It's possible that there's just too much stuff going on for Knock Out to put on his usual panache and a party half-done is no party it all. It's just as possible that he heard the word 'Grill' and like ... pretended not to understand what the invitation meant. In any case, here is Breakdown. He stands on the brink of the evening with the others from the shuttle, his single eye roving around the vaulted room and all its occupants. Eventually, he seems to give a visible shrug, and bellows a "HEEYYYYY," presumably because here among these fellow Cons there might well be people he knows, and wades in at, you know, associated volume.

Of note, Breakdown appears to now have two feet again instead of one foot and a prosthetic, although whether this diminishes his piratical air is essentially up to the observer.

Leozack looks down at Starstruck's extended fist for a confused beat, and then thrusts his own fist smartly out into midair, like an improvised salute, nodding with a goofy smile. "Heh heh, yeah, all right..." (He didn't get it, Starstruck) The question about the meaning of "PDF", though, has him scratch behind his neck in mild embarrassment. "Oh! Right. Heh heh. Um, Planet Destroying Fortress. It's sort of our, y'know, nickname for the warworld. Just a running gag, y'know, that we have. I guess we don't meet a lot of new mechs, being busy with all the cyberforming and everything."

Leozack carries on, dutifully returning all the hellos and how do you dos with his unique, strangely positive vibe. "Adagio, hello! Windblade, a pleasure ..." Even without being briefed on who was coming, Leozack can sort of tell the Camien is something of a VIP. "Of course, we're happy to have our neutral friends visit. The commander said multiple times how important it is for us to foster an open and unhindered relationship, especially with current events." He's about to greet Breakdown, but can only watch him, with a mirthfully raised brow, as he wades into the crowd.

One of the partygoers gets Deathsaurus's attention, and he looks up from his work, noticing the new arrivals. His voice booms out over the crowd. "Ah! Welcome! Good to see you! I hope you had a good trip here, with all the logistics we had to deal with. But please, come, get some chow, you must be running a bit low." Sharpened fingertips beckon over to the grill. It's clear now that the commander is standing up that he wears an apron that reads "Decepticons: Transform and grill out".

Most of the assembled don't seem to recognize Breakdown, or possibly do and try to move slightly away. There's one exception, a bulky, mustard and grey mech who tromps up, eyeing Breakdown suspiciously. "Name's Killbison. Do I know you?" Despite the suspicion, he seems to hope the answer is yes.

"Breakdown," Breakdown whuffs, turning his head to sweep the big mustard guy with his cyclopean gaze. His teeth show in the vehement flash of his grin. "For what I do best. You kill a lot of bison, Killyboy?" Stop renaming people, Breakdown. It's been a long war. WHO KNOWS.

Starstruck taps his fist against Leozack's little...whatever he just did there. Yeah! Fistbump complete! "Planet Destroying Fortress, huh? That's pretty sweet!" With their height difference, he can't drape an arm over Adagio's shoulders, but he can take a step back and loop his arm through the larger mech's and give him a gentle tug. "C'mon, let's go see Deathsaurus, whatever he's cooking smells killer." He'll try to drag the large truck with him, drawn to the hot dad on the grill and his SWEET APRON. "It was a fine trip! Glad to be here! Thanks for the invite!" Starstruck shouts back, over the rest of the crowd, grinning and wiggling his fingers in a coy wave at everyone who meets his gaze. He might know some people here, might not - he's gonna greet them all with the same friendly enthusiasm regardless.

"P-Planet Destroying..." Adagio keeps his polite smile, though wheels are rapidly turning in his head. Towards Peace didn't mention anything about that. But maybe it's just a fun nickname! A joke. Besides, Starstruck is here, and with Windblade present he knows he's not the only non-decepticon. He gives her a grateful look for doing the speaking for him and follows Starstruck after that tug. "It does smell nice! I love grilled food. Um, hi," he adds as he bumps into people on the way there, "sorry, um, sorry, excuse me, pardon me...and, uh, Mr. Deathsaurus it is, right...?"

Planet Destroying Fortress. Warworld. Killer food. Windblade pauses for one pregnant moment and then dips her head to Leozack, smile ticking determinedly deeper. "Your commander is right, it is very important. We're glad to be here, I'm definitely a fan of open and unhindered. Shall we mingle?" That last might be for her shadow, the ever obliging Chromia trailing after the slowly paced Cityspeaker. Not for her, charging right in! She shall meander. Mosey. Dabble in socialization-- all while aiming a side-eye at Breakdown's interaction with Killbison-- on an eventual narrowing orbit of the grill.

"HA! I kill whatever needs KILLIN'!" Killbison is a loud talker. "Yeah, I figure we been on a few tours together. Woulda been a long time ago, seein' as I've been workin' for Deathsaurus for so long. Anyways, good to see they still got tough mechs out there." He chomps down crudely on the comestible in his hand, tiny splatters of energon flying onto his face and collar.

Blackstorm, usually excited for a party, wanders in muttering to himself. He's already wondering if he should have stayed back with the shuttle. It's always the same with the Decepticon higher-ups, so he sees no reason why this should be any different. If it weren't for a few others attending, such as Starstruck, he wouldn't have come at all. Thankfully, his appreciation of socializing outweighs his ire towards anything with the title of 'boss.'

As he scans the surroundings, his optics skate right over the host. Quite on purpose, that! He'll do anything he possibly can to avoid being noticed by Deathsaurus. Instead, he focuses on the party games across the way. "Oh, throwing things! Finally! I've had enough of behaving the last few days," he chirps to no one in particular.

"Good, good! Always happy to do a cookout for my Decepticons and ... friends." Deathsaurus smirks, fangs gleaming, at Adagio and other neutrals that are around. He grabs a platter and scoops a few food items from a far end of the grill onto it. "Here, these are cooled down and ready to eat. Let me know what you think."

The items come in two shapes, round and oblong, but seem to be of the same materials. Their outer wrapping shells have a smooth metallic shine, while their cores appear spongelike, but still metallic, with the dim pinkish glow of energon within them. Each item is surprisingly light, firm enough to hold but easy enough to crush with masticators, releasing the energon within along with aromatics and other ingredients, probably as parts of Deathsaurus's secret recipe.

Leozack watches the newcomers disperse, and opts to stick with Windblade a little longer. Could be awkward. "So let me know if you have any questions about how we run things here in our little operation, or if you'd like a tour, or, y'know, whatever. I can also get the commander over if you, y'know, would rather talk to him. I'm not that bad at the grill myself!"

"Hehhh." Breakdown's chortle becomes a hint of sigh and he gives Killbison a solid clap on the shoulder with his hand, thumping heavily before he turns his glance. "What is all that," he says, scooping one of the oblongs to eyeball and then cronch. With his mouth full, he goes, "Well, that's just kind of awesome," he says. "I'll have to brag to Knocks about it when I get home."

"'Daj, look, he made fucking burgers." Starstruck lets out a hoot of laughter as he takes his plate, lifting up one of the round energon solids and turning it around to get a good look at it. "And HOT DOGS. This is the coolest barbeque EVER." When he looks up at Deathsaurus again, even with the visor the *u* is quite clear. At least until he starts stuffing his face, mowing down on one of those enerburgers. "Fffffffuck." Sucking on his fingertips, he stops just long enough to give a thumbs up. "How'd you make 'em so good? They're incredible!"

If Windblade detects awkward, she gives no sign. Maybe she's just that good at smoothing it over! Here, a smile is tilted at Leozack, lambent optics centered wholly on the amiable mech for the moment. "I'd like that actually. How do things run here? You mentioned cyberforming... this is my first time on a... warworld, you called it?" Her brows slide higher with a click. "Unless it's safer to ask the commander about that. I don't want to offend." /Naturally/ she is going for talkytalk first but the orgasmic cries over the quality of the food does draw a curious glance. " dog?"

Breakdown eyes Starstruck. "The frag is a hot dog?" he asks, with a half-eaten hot dog in his hand.

A game that may catch Blackstorm's eye appears to involve a pair of squat, slightly inclined platforms, set some distance apart and sloping toward each other, each with a single hole just north of center. Mechs at either platform take turns tossing bags of ball bearings across to the other platform, aiming for the hole. Mostly scratched out paint on the platform surfaces indicate that they had each been adorned with the image of a pair of bot legs extending up to the ... oh my. Well, these are Decepticons. "These, BD!" Starstruck calls back, holding up a hot dog, identical to the one in Breakdown's hand. This one's just whole. "They make 'em on Earth, out of like, uh....guts? And stuff? Not really sure!"

"Hot dog?" Adagio peers at the food on his plate, tilting his head. It does smell good, delicious even, and when one is as big as Adagio one has to work hard to keep the tanks full. In other words, he did come to the party very hungry. Still, he's slow to try new things, and takes one slow bite...

And then eats the rest quickly, eyes lighting up. Literally. "Ohh, this is good!" His voice sounds a little musical when he's happy. And Starstruck is calling him Daj! Nicknames! Nicknames good! "They really are delicious. I never thought of grilling fuel like that. But it smells amazing, and it adds to the flavor...can I have a bit more?" Blackstorm is making his way towards the throwing game when he hears the question across the room. He makes sure to shout at the top of his vocoder, "DON'T LISTEN TO HIM! STARSTRUCK IS THE ONLY HOT DOG HERE!" Thumbs up. What are friends for?

Killbison returns Breakdown's clap with one of his own. If this devolved into a friendly fistfight, he'd be fine with it. "It's Deathsaurus's specialties, mech! Just the thing after you're done takin' down a planet full of organics. Of course a mech like you'd love 'em." He polishes off his own, sucking the energon off his fingers.

"Glad you like 'em. Knew you would, my crew always does!" Deathsaurus twirls a spatula, deftly hooking it onto his belt next to a few other implements of his current trade. "I can't take all the credit, though, I had our medical team come up with them. Took a while to get the foam just right to trap the radiant energon. Of course I add some extra ingredients of my own, but those are secret. Keeps Killbison from defecting. So, sure, have some more!" While he moves food around the grill and fills a second platter, he signals to an assistant nearby to get some more uncharged comestibles ready for cooking.

"Right? They're amazing, seriously." Blackstorm's shout gets Starstruck's helm swiveling in his direction, a raunchier grin spreading across his face. He lifts a hand to cup around his mouth and holler back, "YOU KNOW IT, BABE!" Definitely what friends are for. If the impression yet isn't that these two should be kept apart, then hopefully it won't take much longer for that to sink in.

"They come up with anything else? With this formula you could make like...sausages, or, uh..." Starstruck's memory of human food is actually a bit lacking, here. Maybe he's just so distracted by this delicious food, considering how quickly he, too, cleaned his plate. "Other stuff, you know. And heh, thanks! Don't mind if I do." Heaping more onto his plate, his gaze flicks back up to Deathsaurus. "Since you're in charge now and all, are you gonna do this all the time?"

Breakdown omnoms through the rest of his hot dog, and then cracks his knuckles, rolling his head on his neck in a rattling shift of his big, heavy frame. He squints, one-eyed, at Starstruck, and shakes his head with a tolerant smile. "Seems like a fraggin' lot of work but I ain't complainin'," he says. "We shoulda dragged the little boss," he tells Starstruck across the distance between them, and scoops up one of the burgers so that he can investigate this one as well. Gnawing amiably, he says -- his mouth full again -- "You all kept busy? Found things to fight out there in the black? No war on, not gettin' bored?"

"Oh, I can talk about all that, no problem!" Leozack clasps his hands, thinking how best to summarize things to Windblade. "So, right, this is a warworld, we used to have lots of these - the Decepticons, I mean - but this might be the only one left. We use it for our mission to cyberform planets and take out threats to Cybertron before they, well, become a threat, right? Well, now that we have all of these colonies like, where you come from, right? So we protect you too, like all mechanical life. Decepticon, neutral, even Autobot."

"Hot dogs," Windblade repeats in a softer one, brushed through with a touch of amusement. Deathsaurus' explanation of the process leaves the Camien studying the available spread before she reaches to select a, "...burger..." for herself. It is very important to learn the lingo. /And/ keep one's audio ports open. Even as she nibbles, ever so delicately, on her chosen morsel, she's fixing that wide-eyed and earnest look on Leozack again. What was it she'd just overheard...? "Threats like organics. So, you remove them /before/ they become threatening?"

<FS3> Blackstorm rolls Escaping: Good Success. (5 5 8 1 7 4 4 2 2 6 2)

"Macarons? You could use it to make macarons?" Not that Adagio has any idea of what a macaron is, but he heard it mentioned once. Maybe it's a kind of savory dish like this 'burger' he's eating.

He hears Blackstorm call out Starstruck and tilts his head, looking at the little mech and giving a quiet wave. Starstruck has a friend, so this person is probably trustworthy, right? And then he turns back to Deathsaurus. "Um, I read-I read Towards Peace. It was very interesting and had a lot of good ideas!" He doesn't overhear what Leozack is saying, as it happens, about organics.

"BETTER THAN MOST!" Blackstorm hollers right back, but he doesn't go over to Starstruck. No, Starstruck is too close to Deathsaurus. Instead, his attention is drawn back to the tossing games. It's then that the minibot notices the paintings added to give them a little spice. Startled laughter erupts out of Blackstorm's intake. "Oh, I think I like this bunch," he mutters. Maybe not the boss, but maybe the rest of it he can stomach.

If they're that adventurous, maybe he can get away with a joke. Playing the game by rhe rules would be boring, anyways. He spots his opportunity when a smaller Decepticon walks by with one of the 'hot dogs.' "HEY, STARSTRUCK, YOU KNOW WHAT HOT DOGS ARE GOOD FOR, RIGHT?" he shouts, reaching out and grabbing it from the hapless mecha before they can protest.

He's off towards the tossing game like a streak of lightning. He has every intention of dropping that hot dog into one of the holes, but the person he stole his food from is catching up fast. "Hey, hey, hey!" he protests, and tosses it at his pursuer instead.

Deathsaurus pauses as if to consider carefully the idea of grilling more often. "It's been proposed before, more frequent cookouts. But then they wouldn't be so special, would they?" They are also motivating - nothing like letting your troops engorge themselves after a slaughter. But, that aspect is left out, instead: "It also takes some time to manufacture the metal foams, so until we can speed up that process, well, we'll have them when we can." The mention of "Towards Peace" causes a frown to flash from Deathsaurus's visage for just a moment, but it's swiftly replaced with pleasantry. "You have? It's to your credit. That piece is a treasure of originalist Decepticon precepts. I wish more Decepticons would read it." He glances at the absence of badge on Adagio, but says nothing more.

"It tastes good, that makes it worth it!" Just like how this conversation being carried over half the room is a lot of work, but totally worth it to talk to his cyclops bud. Starstruck laughs, nodding in agreement. "Man, he would've loved this!" He's happy to ignore the one hitch in that idea, namely the fact that Tailgate is an Autobot. "Maybe we can bring him back some burgers and dogs, you think?" Maybe he could bring Hound some, too...just the burgers though. Hot dogs might be a bit. Much. Right now.

And speaking of hot dogs---it is so difficult to ignore Blackstorm for long, the lovable scamp. "I'VE GOT A PRETTY GOOD IDEA," he hollers back. Thankfully he stops from making any inappropriate organic innuendos, too busy cackling as Blackstorm chucks food at the same person he stole it from. "Oh, frag, is he--FOOD FIGHT!" Maybe his shout will be followed, maybe it won't. He's fine either way, taking one of his burgers and just. Smashing it into Adagio's face. And probably ruining that nice serious talk he was about to have with Deathsaurus. "HA!"

And then Adagio gets burgered right to the face. At first he's a little confused, and then he remembers late drunken nights at Mu when everyone was tired of the poor quality fuel and just wanting to have a bit of fun, and he starts laughing and grinning. "Food fight~" he trills, right before...

Putting the bun on Starstruck's head. He just. Puts it there.

Windblade echoes Adagio, though her 'uh oh' is of the silent variety, and transmitted through flag semaphore of the brows. A startled glance goes right at Leo. She draws back her burger. He daren't.

Leozack ponders what a "hot dog" might be for a brief moment before responding to Windblade. "Well, yes, when their technological level is no match for ours. But you can tell, when you have to talk to them, they've got that hatred, and it doesn't matter if they've got their own interstellar empire or haven't even gotten off their home mudball yet. You know if you let them go for a few millennia it's going to be that much harder to take them down later. You know, even though the commander lets them run away if they want, they'll just fight to the bitter end. Vicious!" He plucks a hot dog from a nearby platter and takes a modest bite, nodding.

Windblade echoes Adagio, though her 'uh oh' is of the silent variety, and transmitted through flag semaphore of the brows. A startled glance goes right at Leo. She draws back her burger. He daren't. Bless those inclined just to talk-- she might even ever so casually sidle a bit to the side, placing the Decepticon between herself and the threat of flying food. "Vicious," she echoes, the remainder of her burger going untouched. "I see. That seems understandable when attacked. And this is... an ongoing mission?"

"Oh yeah, we're plenty busy!" There goes another half a burger into Killbison's maw. "We stopped fightin' Autobots a long time ago so we could work on all them organics. I mean, sure, some of 'em don't put up much of a fight, but some do. 'Specially when we run into the BBC or the Council. Heh. Got some good stories. An' if any Autobots get in our way, well, then it's even more fun."

Blast Off is here, too, still a bit tired after his time in a Monoformer's jail cell and subsequent daring escape along with three other Lost Lighters. But he has been wanting to hear what Deathsuarus, their new *leader* is going to say. He's a bit late, unfortunately, but he slips in just in time to see a hot dog wizz by his head. "What..." The shuttleformer huffs and ducks, making his way towards the spot he sees Deathsaurus standing near the grill. Tsk. "I thought this was a culinary appreciation, not a food fight..." How gauche.

<FS3> Windblade rolls Diplomacy: Success. (8 3 5 2 3 3 5 3 1 4 6 5)

"Food fight? /Food fight/." Breakdown whoops and throws his half-eaten burger at the back of Killbison's head, because of course he does. "WHOO! Are there condiments?" He grabs up another burger, wallowing in mess in the kind of juvenile delight that he should've outgrown millenia ago. Somebody shoot Blast Off with some condiments! Come on, boys! Rally!" Who is he even talking to?

Starstruck is laughing so hard, even as he works to balance the bun on the top of his helm, settled nicely between his antennae. "'Daj, that's not how you do it," he chastises fondly, giving Adagio a light hip-check. "It's like this!" On that last word he chucks a hot dog in Breakdown's direction, already gearing up to grab more ammo. "Aw, c'mon, Boff, live a little! We can appreciate the food and chuck it at people!" To prove it, he gently tosses a hot dog at Blast Off. Plinsquish.

The smallish Decepticon chasing Blackstorm gets a face full of hot dog, but that was sort of the plan, and she gobbles up what doesn't slough off her face. She snags a burger with one hand and points at Blackstorm: revenge is coming.

Here and there, some Decepticons start to toss the foamy treats at each other as a food fight starts to gain steam. There's a sizable contingent that aren't interested and back away into their own clusters, while the combatants drift toward the middle of the chamber. It's almost like a practiced ritual, and Deathsaurus confirms it with a hearty laugh and head shake. "It's about a 50-50 chance that this happens. I should have guessed, with the new energon in the room." He doesn't make any attempt to stop the rambuctiousness, but just shutters his top pair of optics to keep any stray food bits out and keeps grilling.

"Aw, mech." Killbison scrapes burger parts from behind his head and noshes them down with relish. (Get it? Condiments? Relish?) "Since you're new here, lemme show you how it's done." He scoops up three burgers and stuffs them into his gun barrel, which quickly aims at Breakdown from atop Killbison's tank mode. THOOM THOOM THOOM.

<FS3> Windblade rolls Reaction+reaction: Failure. (5 5 2 3 4 1)

<FS3> Adagio rolls Reaction+reaction: Failure. (1 3)

<FS3> Starstruck rolls Reaction+reaction: Success. (1 5 8 5 6 2)

"Hey what-" Blast Off starts as a hot dog suddenly comes flying at him thanks to Starstruck. Instinctively, he smacks it away, and it goes flying towards who knows. He looks at Deathsaurus, then back at Starstruck. "I beg your pardon, I thought this was an important, dignified event, concerning the very future of the Decepticons, not time for such juvenile antics," he sniffs. @emit ...Blast Off is kind of a killjoy sometimes.

"I know, I know," Adagio chuckles, wiping off his face and licking his hand. No one said they teach good table manners in Mu. "I just can never bring myself to-I mean, I always end up chickening out and, aha...I'll let other people do the throwing." Besides, he's a little more interested in the eating, which he does by plunking himself down into a seating position (so he's slightly less of an obvious target) and chowing down on a few more burgers at once. Then again, he doesn't want to look like a party pooper in front of his friends and the...somewhat frightening but hospitable and nice Decepticons. He did catch Deathsaurus glancing at his lack of a badge. He's a guest and ought to play along!

So he tries to catch a flying hotdog. And fails entirely. He's just...too...slow.

Splat! Energon hotdog splatters across Breakdown's bust. #bustygirlproblems. "Look at Deathsaurus, mech, look at the apron, and consider," Breakdown suggests. He eats half of a burger and then decides to use it as a projectile! He flings it at Starstruck. "Ha HA!"

<FS3> Deathsaurus rolls 6: Success. (4 5 2 8 5 2)

Fortunately for Windblade, Leozack isn't the food fight type, and he gladly retreats with her to an area that's hopefully out of burger range. "Ongoing, yup! It's a big universe, lots of crazy stuff out there. That was, like, one of the big problems with the war with the Autobots. So many other threats out there, and if we don't handle them, who will?" A hot dog whizzes by his head and he avoids it just in time.

It's a lot to take in. Between the purpose of this ship and the flagrant abuse of energon-- delicious, delicious energon-- Windblade's upright posture suffers a little under the descent of a solemn weight. It is not /quite/ a drooping, but she certainly inclines more towards quiet as she listens, as she observes... /and/ as she finishes /all/ of her chosen meal, wasting none. Thoughtfully luminous optics shift to Deathsaurus and linger there. This is what he gets for inviting neutrals. "Well," she asides to Leo, proving it is /never/ safe to take one's eyes from a fight or make assumptions on range, "I can tell you have a great deal of passion for what you--"

The subsequent SPLOT! upside the headfins is forceful enough that the lean Cityspeaker lurches. Cue a sudden rampant gust of wind, as her wing-rotors fire up in surprise. Whoosh! "Hey!"

Starstruck sidesteps some food that heads his way - barely, he's still losing his mind laughing - and definitely gets hit with Breakdown's burger, right across his chest. He playfully flashes his headlights, one now partially coated in burger foam. "NICE SHOT!" Time to send another hot dog flying right back at Breakdown, before he asides to Adagio, "Hey, don't worry about it! It's all about fun anyway, so if your fun isn't about chucking 'em, then who's to say anything? Certainly not me."

Adagio beams at Starstruck, happily munching away while food flies around him (and sometimes into him, as he's just a giant purple target still) until he remembers what the name of this ship is. Planet Destroying...hmm. And the way Deathsaurus seemed uncertain about Towards Peace. He did feel it was best to get every side of a situation in order to understand it. And Decepticons were his friends, so they couldn't be all bad, could they? Even Deathsaurus himself seems very nice, feeding his troops like this and playing along with the food fight.

"Um," he says after swallowing a mouthful, "you said it was sort of an originalist text? Or whatever you said? Are there more things I should read about your movement to better understand it?" The movement does have delicious food.

<FS3> Blackstorm rolls Magnetism: Good Success. (3 5 6 7 2 8 4 6)

Blast Off takes Breakdown's advice, looks at Deathsaurus, and his apron. The shuttleformer sighs, broad shoulders sagging. Just his luck. This is like being the only sensible and serious one among most of the Combaticons sometimes. SIIIGH. He huffs softly, straightening himself and brushing away the splatters on his arm as he continues to make his way towards the new Decepticon leader. "We don't have time for such things... well, *I* don't. I have a gigantic planet-devouring monstrosity threathening the universe I need to keep track of." He tsks, then glances over as Leozack speaks. NOW we're getting somewhere. "What's this about handling threats?"

<FS3> Blackstorm rolls Climbing: Great Success. (2 5 2 2 5 4 7 1 7 6 7 7 4)

Killbison flips back to his root mode, pleased at how this conversation is going. He picks off more food to eat as it impacts on his armor. "Ya know, the commander never gets into a food fight. Not his thing, I guess. But anyways, he's usually busy grilling up new ammo, so I can't complain."

Blackstorm doesn't have a lot of time to process before the other small decepticon comes after him. "Hey, hey, hey!" he repeats himself. There's a smile edging at his lip components, though. Yes, he does like this bunch! He's glad to see they're playing along.

The minibot makes a beeline for the nearest wall. Clank, clank. His magnapedes magnetize to the wall and he starts his escape. "It's just a good thing I don't have more ammo, or you wouldn't stand a chance!" he hollers down. Imagine. Dropping food from the ceiling.

Deathsaurus takes a moment away to attend to Blast Off, before the shuttleformer might seek a safer location. His wings form something of a shield from the rest of the room. "Ah! Blast Off, the renowned sniper. Yet another Decepticon I've looked forward to meeting. We'll have time soon enough, in calmer circumstances, to address all of the threats we face. But for now, the troops have to get to know each other. We'll have to fight as one to win, and to do that, we have to bond. If it takes a food fight, well, so be it. But you can find some mechs here who aren't as mischievous as the others."

"You can hide behind me if you don't want to get hit by food," offers Adagio, who will probably need a bath after all this. He looks down at Blast Off with a little cheerful smile, waving a hand probably bigger than the shuttle's head.

Adagio's further questions about Decepticon teachings are enough to prompt Deathsaurus to hand over the grilling duties to his assistant. Not the apron, just the grilling. He moves around the grill and crouches near the neutral, wings continuing to shield him from flying food. All four optics appraise Adagio. "Originalist, yes. One of Megatron's earliest writings. Over time, his ... outlook on the Decepticon movement changed, so I prefer the early works. I have some manifestos that I often refer to, maybe you'd like to read them. Soundwave certainly has copies. What was your name again?"

Leozack hops back when Windblade gets smacked by a burger, but then can't help but laugh. "Oh no, are you all right? Don't worry, it ... it doesn't stain." He tries to usher Windblade to a safer location, behind some bigger mechs who clearly don't want to either engage in the food fight or clean off the stuff they are getting hit with. Perfect shielding.

Not to be denied, Blackstorm's pursuer flags down a friend of hers. There's a quick exchange of words, and a quizzical look from the friend, who nevertheless drops to a knee and forms a step with his interlaced hands. 1, 2, 3: The revenge-seeking Decepticon launches up, and at the apex of her flight, flings a burger at Blackstorm. Even if it doesn't hit, it's impressive to see.

Windblade reaches up and scrapes a patch of foam from her frills, inspecting her fingers afterward. Her expression shades towards the conflicted. Waste and flick, or...? In the end she opts for reluctantly giving her wrist joint a sharp flick. No one tell her, there's a bit of bun left up there. Leozack has /every/ right to his giggles. "Thank you, that's very kind," she mumbles as she is scooted to better cover. Digits probe at her head again, and still they miss that errant bit of dangly stuff. "No harm done. And no riots! There might have been, on Caminus, seeing this," she quips, striving for a lighter tone.

"Thank you," is added also to Adagio, whose posterior they're presently sheltering behind. No comment for Deathsaurus, but. She is now /obviously/ listening in, while wearing a pretty little smile.

Well, it certainly pleases Blast Off to hear that Deathsaurus knows who he is and has looked forward to meeting him. The shuttle relaxes just a tiny bit as he stops and looks up at the other Decepticon. "Good to hear." He takes a moment to eye the food fight partipants before adding, "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, deathsaurus. Yes, I am curious to hear what those threats are and how you intend to deal with them. And I do hope Unicron is at the top of that list."

As Adagio offers some assistance, the Combaticon's gaze snaps up, vents expelling a soft huff. "I don't need to *hide* from anyone," he asserts. He frowns under his faceplate, again watching where that food might be flying to, then thinks twice as some more food goes whizzing by. His gaze flickers before settling on the larger mech again, and he says to Adagio in a less huffy, more gentle tone, "...Thank you, though."

"It's fine, really!" Adagio says both to Windblade and to Blast Off, happy to serve as a living shelter. Deathsaurus using his wings to shield helps too. "I-I didn't mean you needed to hide! Just, uh, if you wanted to. Big people should help out anyway we can." He finishes his current meal and sighs, having to take a break from the eating for a while, and turns back to Deathsaurus.

"Adagio of Velocitron, sir," the slow-moving giant says. "I'd love to do more reading. I'll have to ask Soundwave if I can. I just want to understand things, that's all. Some of your-uh, well, some of the Decepticons on the Lost Light helped us out. I liked the philosophies in Towards Peace..." But why a planet destroyer? Well, it'd be rude to ask the host of a party.

Well, this is a nice little conversation group going on. "Leozack, go see about calming everyone down, would you?" Deathsaurus watches his SoC obediently hop away to wind down the food fight, then returns his attention to his guests. "He'll get smothered. But anyway. Yes, Unicron is priority number one, a challenge that my crew and I look forward to, despite appearances. I'm working on attack strategies, and your input on those, Blast Off, would be valuable. I have all my optics on those harbingers of his, for a couple of reasons." Which he'll explain in more appropriate circumstances. "Adagio. Well, it is wonderful when someone takes new interest in the ways of the Decepticon. Some of what you heard from those on the Lost Light could differ from the readings, but, well, there's room for some breadth in interpretation. To an extent. ... But yes, Towards Peace is a favorite. Multiple readings are rewarding, I think." The commander spies Windblade and somehow, from long practice, keeps his composure in all of these circumstances. "Cityspeaker! I hope this soiree of ours doesn't offend. These are fighting mechs, it's in their struts. Most of the time, they're better behaved." Another fangy grin.

Windblade inclines her head, with hot dog bun, in solemn acknowledgement of Deathsaurus. "I'm sure they're very disciplined when required to be. Balance is important. And having an outlet." She pauses, as if tasting the air-- and then turning her head to mark where Chromia is in the large chamber. Chromia, who is not under shelter. And who is maybe possibly armed. "Ah... would you... excuse me a moment?" She's just going to eeeeease on over there to intercede and get the other Camien back on the shuttle.

Adagio watches the pretty, fancy-looking Windspeaker slip to the side, and listens to Deathsaurus. "I, uh, thank you," he stammers to the Decepticon leader, a little intimidated despite everything. Yes, Quicksight said he'd make a fine Decepticon, but now he's learning there's more to it than Towards Peace and liberation...? Hmm. He'll have to ask his Con friends later. He should probably head back soon to get washed up, and he's pretty stuffed, but...

Well, he's gonna grab two more burgers first, and beg a few to bring home to friends later.

Blast Off nods to Deathsaurus, feeling surprisingly hopeful. Cautiously hopeful, but it is hopeful. "Excellent. I would be very pleased to contribute to your efforts against Unicron and look forward to working together. Thank you for your hospitality..I do believe I shall go partake of some of these courses you'd provided... I've had a long, long several solar cycles." If only he knew half of it, whew. He also nods up at Adagio before heading to the buffet.

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