2016-08-15 A Warm Welcome

From Transformers: Lost and Found

A Warm Welcome
Date 2016/08/15
Location Zarzee Casino
Participants Finetune, Lieutenant, Mercy, Quicksight, Ravage, Skystalker, Torque, Waspinator, Wheeljack, Whirl
NPCs Malice, Maroon, Navy, Viscount Valeen, Corkscrew
Plot Zarazee Casino
Scene GM Soundwave
Summary The Lost Light arrives at Zarzee Casino, and, of course runs in to some trouble

The Zarazee Casino can be seen from orbit. It gleams and shines, flashing strobes and neon lights. Its utterly massive, taking over a large chunk of the moon it lies upon. As the Lost Light comes down to land upon the moon, the Casino and the subsequent hotels and other shops just become larger and larger, the lights an iridescent symphony for the optics. There's a buzz of excitment as the Casino and all the business surrounding it promise a good time- for both mechanical and organic life, something that shouldn't be so hard to find in the universe.

With the massive ship now on the equally massive landing pad, surrounded by other vessels and ships and shuttles, the crew is allowed for open travel without requiring a ride planetside or back to the ship. It's a bit of a walk to the prominent Casino entrance, true, but surely the excitement and babble from the first wave exiting the ship will help pass by the time it takes to get there. Its cool and dry, completely comfortable for giant robots, all the lights bouncing off reflective armor, the entrance getting closer.

With a building that shiny and sparkly, it was a given that Mercy would be eager to visit it. The femme is actually skipping down the landing ramp and onto the pathway to the casino. Bright opticed and busy...afted? she eagerly makes her way with the other 'first wave' to see what entertainment is on offer. "Look how PRETTY everything is!" she crows to anyone who might actually listen.

On a base level, one would not think a casino as something that would be of even passing interest to Ravage. It was just a place where fools were seperated from their credits in a number of self-indulgent ways. But you peel back the layers and eventually you can expose the galaxy's seedy underbelly. A few hot wins or cold drinks had a habit of loosening lips and letting tidbits slip. Little nuggets of information for a wily predator to pounce upon and stalk back to his lair with.

That or Ravage is just here because Soundwave can't be. The felinoid is being his usual lack of talking self, so there's no way to really be sure at the moment.

Waspinator isn't sure of the reason he decided to come along but as soon as the bug steps foot out of the ship, he regrets it. Immediately the bright lights cause him to flinch and reel back as he covers his optics with his hands. Bright lights and bustle don't always mix well with someone generally accustomed to small dark places. Once he adjusts to the light change, he looks around nervously. Wazzpinator not think thizz zzuch good idea anymore...

The easy transport between the ship and the site is enough to convince Wheeljack to at least give the place a try, though how long he'll stay is anyone's guess. He follows along with the crowd easily enough, just as interested in the ships they pass on the landing pad as he is with the sights of the casino itself in the distance. "It makes an impression, you can give it that," he observes, mostly to himself, as he glances around.

Though the notion of deep-space dens of iniquity are absolutely nothing new to Skystalker, the Zarazee Casino compound is definitely one of the biggest he's seen. Even he has an impressed expression as they land and disembark. He even makes some mental notes of the compound's layout from the outside, amber optics and the shine of his armor reflecting the rainbow of neon. Even the landing pads are filled with ships of makes he hasn't seen before-- and a few that he has.

Despite his interest in the vastness of the place, Skystalker lingers towards the back of the group, attention easily tugged away by the flinching and nervousness of another. "Are you okay?" Skystalker is silent when he comes up alongside Waspinator, and while his presence may be a shock, his words seem kind enough. No badge, and no attitude.

Quicksight is only too happy for a chance to get off the ship. Not that he minds it in a general sense, but the same metal walls around the same rooms with the same view get a bit dull after a while. It's always great to see something new, and he might even get a chance to fly properly here! For now though he remains on the ground, sticking near Skystalker, optics darting left and right at all the bright lights, and any potential danger. If anything, experience has taught him to stay particularly wary on heavily populated stops. Like his friend, he eventually notices the jittery insecticon in their midst "Yeah, what's up with you?"

Torque has muscled her way through the exiting crowd in order to walk next to Lieutenant, an excited smile lighting up her face as she marches along. "This is gonna be so cool! I'm not much for gambling, but hey, I've got some shanix to throw away, so why not." Enthusiastically she nudges the large avian light and looks up his way. "So what're you gonna do first? I think I'm gonna hit the bars myself, get in on all that alien booze they advertise."

Finetune hasn't buffed herself specially for this occasion-- she just normally looks this good. (Unless she's elbow deep in an engine compartment, but that's another matter entirely). Still, the scintillating lights of the casinos glint off her polished fenders, and Finetune puts an extra spring in her stride, almost by reflex. "Pretty is ... relative." The egnineer muses in Mercy's direction. "Still, the amount of energy it must take to keep something like this going ... it's conspicuous consumption to the Nth degree. Huh." She muses aloud.

<FS3> Finetune rolls Style: Good Success. (2 8 8 1 4 3 3)

Lieutenant sticks to the back of the group, as usual. This time, however, he's accompanied by Torque. Curiosity, naturally, compells the avian to be here. That and one other thing he's quiet hopeful for. As he's met with Torque, his optics search their surroundings before answering. "I will do nothing, yet." he answers vaguely, "Please do watch yourself when you drink though." Safety concerns Torque, you're a medic.

As the bots of the Lost Light get closer, there's more organics. Some stand outside their business and shout out deals that might give Swindle a pause, and others wave around signs and hand out pamphlets to those who stop by. There's a diversity to them- some have scales, others feathers, and some with multiple limbs. The sizes vary too. From more human-sized to the size of a Cybertronian on the short end of the spectrum of average. But there's a constant stream of entry into the casino. The trickle out seems almost non-existent.

On either side of the door are two guards, dressed in nice suits, dark and glittery among all the lights. They seem particularly nonchalant as the attendees enter, some with drones or little bots with them. They certainly look bored... Until one spots the entourage of Cybertronians heading their way. Still too far away to hear them but those with particularly good sight might see the two exchange some terse words.

As the crew gets closer, the sound of the music can be heard. Upbeat, something one can dance to with a synthetic twist. One might call it electro-swing.

Pretty -is- subjective, but when the subject is Mercy, it's a very broad topic. As the group draws closer, Mercy's skipping shifts slightly to adjust to the beat of the now easily heard music; the medic only -just- manages to keep from clapping in time with it. Her head swivels from left to right, trying to take it all in. The shops, the organics hawking their wares, and the bright, shiny casino. "Ohhh, I want to do it ALL!" she announces.

Ravage just slicks back his ear modules and glares at the backs of the gathered getting way too excited about this trip. He would be starting to regret coming along, if it wasn't for this being for Soundwave's sake rather than his own. The communicator hates being out of the loop, so where he can't go, his faithful feline does. But that doesn't mean he has to pretend to enjoy his company.

"In a place like this, are you really surprised?" Wheeljack says in Finetune's direction. "I'd be more surprised if they didn't overdo everything." Mercy's enthusiasm, by comparison, earns a chuckle. Wheeljack ambles along in comparison to the more enthusiastic members of the group, and between the crowd and the activity of the other Lost Lighters, it's not so easy to notice anything going on by the entrance.

It's been a long time since the ship stopped at a place where, basically, sin is in. Gambling, drinking, sketchy sales, drinking, more gambling.. it's pretty much every Whirl needs right now. While not the first one off the ship, he practically sprints his way to the front of the group on his springy chicken legs, optic bright with excitement. "Aaaahahahaha! Holy SHIT! I can't wait!" He spins around on his heels, now walking backwards as he addresses the group. "You guys probably don't know this but I'm kind of a gambling pro!" No he's not.

Waspinator jumps again at the sudden appearance of Skystalker beside him as they walk towards the casino, head whipping around to look at the mech. Izz a neutral... Very slowly Waspinator relaxes (granted minutely relaxes but relaxes nonetheless) before answering, "Wazzpinator... izz fine.... place izz bright..." A nervous glance is sent Quicksight's way, he doesn't seem as nice as the bigger one... It doesn't get any better for him as they continue, the noise only getting louder and louder. Crowds can mean fun, or crowds can mean danger.

"I bet that'll get expensive." Finetune deadpans to Mercy-- still, the medic's enthusiasm is somewhat infectuous- it at least earns a smile from the maroon engineer, at least. She glances over as Wheeljack speaks up, and nods. "Good point." She says-- and then winces as Whirl, well, whirls in. Unconsciously, she takes a half-step away from the half-mad wrecker ... you know, just in case.

<FS3> Quicksight rolls Observation: Great Success. (8 6 3 8 1 1 7 3 8 3 2)

<FS3> Mercy rolls Ohh Pretty!: Success. (4 6 6 3 8 4 6 2 5 6)

The glee out of Mercy is hard to miss, and Skystalker smiles to himself when he hears her, and the others. Whirl might get more of a laugh if he were closer, even. Instead, Skystalker stays back near Waspinator as the insect answers him. The starfighter's wingtips splay more widely, a casting a slightly bigger blot of shadow for the nervous Decepticon. "It is. Very noisy too." Skystalker brings up his best soothing voice, passively creating a 'safe' spot in his vicinity. He knows how it feels to be overwhelmed.

"Ah, I'm sure you'll find something fun to do here. This place looks like it has pretty much everything you could hope for." Torque snorts to Lieu's rather deadpan attitude. But such is his way. "And hey, don't worry, I'm a Master Drinker, I'll handle it juuust fine." She polishes her fingertips on her chest and smirks in that cheesy way before she perks back up to her usual brightness and picks up the pace. "Meetcha inside!"

Lieutenant gets a little hand squeeze before she darts off through the crowd, weaving around folks with some 'excuse me's and 'pardon me's. While passing Wheeljack he recieves a ruffle on the helm, Waspinator and Skystalker getting a wave also, before she comes up to the front with Whirl and knocks the rotary with her elbow in a playfully rough manner. "Gamblin' mech, eh? Well I bet you I can beat you inside!"

"'Course it is! What, you didn't see the lights when we were approaching?" Quicksight doesn't mean to be hostile, but he really doesn't get how someone could have not noticed all the lights before leaving the ship. That said, he looks up again, giving Mercy an amused glance, while doing his best to ignore some of his...less favourable companions. Instead, his attention falls on the guards up ahead. The scout's optics narrow as the duo turns to mutter something to each other as the pack of Cybertronian approaches them. "Huh...."

Whirl takes notice of the way Finetune winces and steps away from him, prompting him to step forward and get closer to her. More than likely he would follow her the entire way into the casino, glaring at her and breaching her personal space but thankfully Torque distracts him with an elbow and a challenge. "Ha! You're on!" he shouts, sprinting after Torque in an effort to beat her.

As the enssamble proceeds, the organics begin to notice. Some stope to stare, having never seen a Cybertronian before, or at least not this many, and other glare. There a few who were shouting that quiet and shuffle away to put more distance. It's anything but a warm welcome. Those entering the casino look back for just a moment before entering faster. The two at the entrance step forward just a step, one with a hand to his earpiece, the other watching the Cybertronians closely.

As Whirl and Torque run gung-ho to the entrance, the guard watching- his suit a more navy and the other a more maroon now that everyone is closer- steps forward. "Stop right there! All a' ya!" It seems the Casino has access to galactic translators. "Not a step closer! We'r gonna need ta speak with ya handlers first." Despite most of the mecha approaching being larger, this guard seems confident. Or maybe that's just the glint of a weapon at their side that can be made out by the observational.

Well, what's this now? Sure, guards at the door would be expected. But what's that about 'handlers'? ... Sigh. And Ravage already misses having Soundwave near by, if only for the large blocky form to lurk behind. And the only Decepticon here that he'd actually possibly trust is Quicksight. So congrats, you get the darkcat slinking in your shadow, eyeing the guards all the more suspiciously.

The dour, confident guard doesn't fully register on Mercy as she approaches the entrance, only to have it blocked. "Oh, Rodimus is on the ship, he said we could come have fun! I want to try everything!" As she chirps this cheery announcement, she broadly waves her arms outwards towards the interior behind him. She does stop...well, pause really, rocking up onto her toes as she leans to try and peer past him.

<FS3> Skystalker rolls Streetwise: Success. (5 3 3 4 2 7 6)

The hand on his helm gets a surprised sound out of him, and he ducks forward automatically to try and get it off. When he looks up again, his fins are lit up with indignation. "What-- Torque!" he says. The indignation doesn't last long, and within moments he's chuckling. "You could at least say hello first," he protests.

Before he can take more than one step to try and catch up, she's off again, and Wheeljack slows his pace only to come to a halt as the door guards stop them. "Excuse me, but. Handlers?"

Torque must be in a damn good mood if she's this energetic. But can't you blame her? First time since the war ended that she's able to enjoy some planet-side recreation, so she's going to enjoy this as much as possible. Not noticing the looks their all getting, she's careful enough not to run over the other casino patrons while racing to the entrace.

"C'mon, chicken legs! I know you've got more spring in your step than that!" She laughs, having cheated with a head start. But she's not in the lead for long. In fact not at all when the guards shout at them and stops just short of the doorway, looking surprised as they.. demand to talk to their handlers? "Uh.. What handlers?" Maybe the captain? Though he himself probably needs a handler.. Maybe they wanna talk to Ultra Magnus.

<FS3> Quicksight rolls Observation: Good Success. (1 4 8 8 5 8 5 6 3 4 5)

<FS3> Lieutenant rolls Authority: Good Success. (8 8 8)

Whirl was all set to completely ignore the tiny guards (because come on, what are they gonna do to him?) but the weapon at the guards' side makes him reconsider, if only because he doesn't want to get grounded for starting a fire fight after being on the planet for only five minutes. "Handlers?" Whirl laughs. "Well, I wouldn't necessarily call him my handler, though he does handle me a lot if you get what I mean. Eh? Ehh?" He elbows Torque. Get it?? "Anyway, we're gonna go inside and drink all your booze now soo... get out of the way."

The closer they get to the entrance, the more Skystalker notices the other patrons around them; the variance in reactions, the cursing looks, and he is at attention, nervous and apprehensive by the time they get to the doormen. His wings stay aloft, however, perhaps a subconscious effort to make himself seem larger than he is.

The mentions of handlers and the questioning words of the other Cybertronians cause him to take several steps back, optics flicking back over his shoulder.

Finetune arches a brow as the two be-suited (and possibly armed) guards start yelling at them. Still, a doorman's a doorman, no matter what the species, and Finetune's certainly dealt with quite a few of -those- in her day. And ultimately, it's just a matter of confidence.

So, as the other mechs stop, Finetune ... doesn't. Instead, she just arcs her chin up a little higher, makes her strides a little more purposeful, and generally assumes the air of 'I belong here because I look like I know what I'm doing.' 
"We don't -need- handlers. We're free agents." She remarks to the pair in passing, and then moves to strut straight through!

<FS3> Finetune rolls Style: Good Success. (6 5 2 2 8 1 8)

<FS3> Waspinator rolls Paranoia: Good Success. (5 5 3 7 7)

Though he remains wary of his surroundings, Quicksight's attention remains on the guards as the group approaches them. He doesn't really like the looks of them. The fact that they're organics is likely a big part of that. The weapons aren't helping. And what's this about 'handlers'? What, did the captain forget to get some sort of clearance? Or is this some organic mechaphobic slag?

Lieutenant sighs from far back as Torque races Whirl. You are a medic, you're supposed to be responsible?? Maybe?? Although looking at Mercy... he faintly questions why he fears medics when some are like this.

"Handlers?" The navy avian asks aloud. Stepping up to the two, "You may not be familiar with our customs, but Cybertronians are not property. If you are looking for someone to be responsible of the group, I will offer myself if you have any complaints towards my comrades."

Waspinator slows his step slightly to further bask in the shadow spot that Skystalker makes for him. Neutral not zzo bad maybe... Only something definitely isn't right. All the organiczz zztaring, watching uzz... What Organiczz want, they want to hurt? His antenna start flicking nervously, optics flying around almost wildly, as they submerge themselves more and more into the area. At the word from the guards, Waspinator freezes and looks around to the others. Handlerzz? The guards might be small but Waspinator knows better than to underestimate someone due to size, he's been shot by small mechs more than once.

Maroon scowls and turns to hide his mouth as he talks, fingers still pressed against some sort of earpiece. His body language is tense. Navy, however, doesn't back down, one hand- with only three fingers- curling around weapon at his side. "None a ya!" He shouts with a growl in his voice. "Are gettin' in or goin' anywhere without a handler!" As Finetune tries to pass, the weapon is drawn out. That's some alien machine gun looking shit right there. It lights up, warm and ready to spit as Navy step in front of Finetune. "And you," he spits toward Lieutenant, "ain't a handler. No handlers, no entry!"

Maroon, a more scaley organic, rattles in a bristle at the agression of his comrade. His words can be made out. "... no, no handler... .... making a scene... Cybertronian, see the badges..."

When the weapon is drawn out, Mercy's bubbliness pops almsot instantly, and she moves to step between Maroon and Finetune. She puffs up, trying to make herself as big as possible to try and leave little room to take a shot at the engineer. "Whoa whoa! Hey, we're just here to have fun, okay? That's looks so bright, and cheery, and some of us just want a drink, and some want to play games, and some want to do everything."

<FS3> Lieutenant rolls Communication: Success. (6 8)

<FS3> Whirl rolls Hooliganism: Good Success. (8 3 8 1 5 6 6 2 7)

Finetune stops in her tracks. Great. She tenses, finding herself staring down the barrel of some kind of weapon. Well then. She shifts her stance slightly, shifting her weight to one leg ... but then there's the matter of, well, making a scene. And then Mercy's stepping in front of her, which, well ... Finetune didn't ask for it, but she'll take an opportunity when she sees one.

And so, Finetune rests a gentle hand upon Mercy's shoulder ... all the while using the medic's body to conceal the movement of her other hand as it silently moves to rest on the butt of her pistol. Just in case. 
"Now now, I think there must be a mistake." Finetune tries to keep the quaver out of her voice, opting for a cloyingly sweet tone. "As you can see, my friends and I are -quite- rich, and -quite- willing to spread some shanix around, not to mention there are -quite- a few of us, who are -quite- well armed, so ... "

Torque looks even more confused now and gives Lieutenant a questioning look when he steps up to claim responsability. "But Lieu, this is a mech friendly joint, we shouldn't have be stoppin' for any of this."

Back to the guards, she's about the challenge them, but freezes up a little when a weapon is drawn on their group. Brows furrow a second later and she scowls, hands on hips. "Oi, what's with the threats? Listen here, guy, your advert for this place states mechanical folk are welcome. You wanna explain when that rule changed? And why?"

Ravage is seriously resisting the urge to slap a forepaw to his face as things start going south extremely quick. Ugh. Wasn't this place suppose to be open to mechanical lifeforms? Something isn't right here. While he doesn't step out of the shadows, he does slink up a bit farther on Quicksight's side, briefly flicking his tail against the scout's shin to let him know he's there. Other than that, he keeps quiet, and continues to watch. Finetune just makes that urge to facepaw twitch even harder, but he's keeping his composure.

Whirl watches with slight envy as Finetune goes ahead and starts pushing her way through the guards, and then snickers when she's immediately stopped by a gun pointed at her. "Heheheh, guys, come on, really? You obviously know enough about Cybertronians to identify us, do you really think threats and guns are gonna stop us?" He crouches down, getting on eye level with Maroon over there. "Did you forget that threats and guns are pretty much our entire evolution? That that is what we have lived on for millions of years? In short.." He rises to his full height and then kicks at Maroon's gun, attempting to knock it right out of his hands. "WE DO WHAT WE WANT!"

Lieutenant would prefer they switch to another word instead of handlers. He's only irritated by the word, but he keeps a calm demeanor about him. "Very well." he says evenly, straightening his shoulders. His voice changes to a different language, the one Navy is speaking. "If I am correct, the Zarazee Casino works outside of the Galactic Council control. You have an open-arms policy that includes Cybertronians. I do not know if being out of the loop has blocked out universal information but the Cybertronian war is over, and I can assure you that we--" WHIRL.

The moment Maroon starts reaching for his weapon, Quicksight rolls on to the balls of his feet. The blades don't come out, but the shift in his stance leaves him in a good position to move at a moment's notice "Typical organic scrap." he hisses. Ravage gets a brief, aknowledging glance, but the scout doesn't take his attention off the guards.

Annnd everything Waspinator's paranoid mind thought is confirmed in that one move by the guard. As soon as Navy draws the weapon Wasp shrinks back, putting distance- and other bodies- between him and the aggressor. Going back to the ship seems like a very good idea right now. Why did Wazzpinator want to come anywayzz? "mech friendly place not zzo friendly." Is the only quiet comment he makes to Skystalker, his tone clearly more of a warning than a comment. Neutral nice to Wazzpinator, Wazzpinator help Neutral. If its possibly for Waspinator's metaphorical hackles to rise any further, Whirl's little display does the job.

.... And there, there's the facepalm when Whirl goes all John Woo with his weird bird legs. Ravage just can't hold it back any longer.

Skystalker looks down along the lines of his frame as Waspinator edges into his shadow again, peeping out his quiet warning, of sorts. The exchange has brought a blanched cast to Skystalker's optics, but he is self-aware enough to lower his hand and let it settle fingers-first on Wasp's shoulder. He might be beyond apprehensive too, but together maybe a little less. Well-- maybe if not for Whirl, because the act gets a bit of a flinch of wings from Skystalker, in lieu of mimicking Ravage's facepalming.

There's a slight tremble in the ground. Very slight. Perhaps one with seismic sense might be able to percieve it. And if they were to use that, they'd feel something big and heavy and its steps heading this way.

Navy looks just about ready to pull that trigger at the no-so-subtle threat from Finetune. "I don't care what ya heard, but ya ain't gettin' without-" Navy is silenced as Whirl, somehow seems much large all crouched down to eye level. Maroon sounds far more panicked into his little ear piece. "I don't give a- oof!" Navy's gun is sent in one direction and the guard rolling with a bit of a crunch. Now Maroon is drawing out his weapon, fully trained on Whirl. "Gah- shoot him! The thing broke a rib!" Navy wheezes. Maroon doesn't fire, far less confident than his comrade. "We really can't ley all of you in... A-And don't step closer, you. I mean that, really. She's comin', so just stay put!" Those heavy steps are easier to percieve from those NOT with seismic sense. A patron's glass starts ro ripple as they scoot into the entrance with wide eyes. Eight of them, in fact.

"Whi-irl," Mercy groans as the mech in question starts to escalate the trouble, and quickly. She shoots a look over her shoulder at the others - a little help here? then she feels Finetune's hand on her shoulder, and she relaxes slightly. It's probably a good thing the medic doesn't see the femme reaching for her gun.

Finetune grits her teeth as Whirl starts kicking-- though whether that's because she's gritting her teeth from the chaos, or was about to do the same herself remains to be seen. Still, she hasn't got a gun pointed at her, so that's a plus.

"Uh. Thanks?" She offers to the wrecker-- and then as heavy footsteps start tromping through, Finetune makes it a point to pull Mercy back a step, and then neatly step out in front of her, placing herself between the shorter medic and whatever direction the stomping seems to be coming from.

Well, this is going well. Wheeljack suppresses a groan. So much for trying to avoid confrontation with Finetune and the door guards, since Whirl dodged completely past insinuations and straight into threats and actual attack. He finds himself taking a few step backs himself, when Maroon makes that ominous statement. Hopefully this won't end in shooting. He's wary of it ending without them getting sent right back off to the ship, however.

Torque bristles when Whirl lashes out at one of the guards and knocks the gun away. Reflexivly she snaps a hand out to grab the rotary by the collar and yank him back from the trouble he's starting. "Primus, Whirl, we don't need to make it even harder to get in than it is." She grouses under her vocals at him, though pauses when the heavy footsteps are felt and Maroon says 'she'. "Uh.. Who's she...?"

Oops, breaking a rib wasn't Whirl's intent but he's not necessarily disappointed by this turn of events. He starts hoping from foot to foot, claws snapping, clearly thrilled with how their stay on the planet is going so far. "Ha ha! You like that, eh? I've got more where that came from!" He turns to face Maroon, scuffing his feet on the ground like he's about to charge him. "She? Ha! I'm not afraid of any she, he, them, or anything in between! If I have to fight my way into your casino, you can bet your ass I will!"

Waspinator glances at Skystalker as fingers brush against his shoulder but the gesture doesn't do much to calm the insect. This is going to get out of hand quickly. He wants to run but there is no way he will be able to go far in this area. Stepping closer to the neutral, Waspinator prepares himself in case things come to blows (as they seem to be going towards). A mention of a she doesn't make him relax any. "Thizz not going to end well..."

"For Primus sake, one of you AUTOBOTS control your hexnut there." First thing Ravage has said all night.

Skystalker looks from the fracas at the front door to the path they came down, and other occupants of the compound's entryways. Aliens, the lot, of course; a hundred alien faces blur past his vision, and he takes a few more steps back, too cautious even to stay close to Waspinator.

And of course the Autobot just made things worse! Typical Autobots! (Not that Quicksight himself didn't at all feel like stabing these fraggers.) But he'll worry about that later. Who is 'she' indeed? Judging from the shaking, she must be pretty big! "<< I'm gonna go up and check things out. >>" this message goes out to only two - Ravage, and Skystalker. At this point, Quicksight doesn't trust anyone else to not draw attention to him. Kicking off the ground, he shifts to drone mode and darts upwards, taking care to move away from the guards in his ascent.

Lieutenant's fins twitch at whomever is coming. It's heavy, and it makes him tremble under each step. He steels himself as best he can, not to show his quivering. It's not of fear, just under the seismic sense that makes him shake. At Ravage's statement, Lieutenant sighs. He moves over to Whirl, to look him eye to eye. "If you do not stand down, neighbor, you can hold responsibility of why the others cannot get in." he whispers sternly, "Do behave yourself while here."

With that, the freckled avian turns back to look at the figure approaching.

Whirl is tugged back thanks to Torque's hand on his collar kibble. Good thing too, we has about to start another war. "Tch, give me a break!" he snaps at Lieutenant who has the gall to get up in his not-face. "They weren't going to let us in anyway! Or would you rather pretend to be someone's slave?" He scoffs and turns his attention to the doorway as something approaches.

"L-Look! Just waitn until-" Maroon starts and then stops. The organics smarlty shut the hell up as the shaking and loud, thunking THUDS stop for a moment as a large shadow falls over the entry before a behemouth femme ducks out of the casino.

She's Magnus sized, although perhaps broader and without those shoulder pouldrons. Her armor is held tightly and on first glance one would assume 'tank'. But following the massive mecha is an equally massive pair of wings that curve from above her head and nearly touch the ground and the hissing tourbines on her back and dual pair of thrusters line her thick heels... All evidence points to jet.

Her helm juts in a brim that looks like a predatoty bird's beak, a pair of red optics glinting from the shadow that befalls her face. The patrons aren't alarmed in the least and even seem to relax in her presence. Maroon sure seems glad she's here. Sitting on her shoulder is a large cannon, dull and dormant for now.

Her red optics flicker over the group before speaking in a voice that dripped like molasses. "'M Malice, Head of Zarazee Security. What... Is the problem." She doesn't even look at the organics, only at the Cybertronians. Her chassis is a matte black with glossy black stripes running down it. The light catches the black in what might a symbol covered by paint. Hard to tell.

<FS3> Quicksight rolls Observation: Great Success. (3 3 5 7 8 7 8 2 8 5 5)

<FS3> Waspinator rolls Cowering: Failure. (5 6 1 5 1)

<FS3> Whirl rolls Diplomacy: Failure. (5 4 5)

Finetune 's optics widen further as she looks up (and up, and up) at Malice. Again, on instinct, she takes a step back, bumping into Mercy. Hoo boy. "Uh. Hi?" She offers, and makes it a point to keep her hand -away- from the gun on her hip. Finetune spares a glance over her shoulder at the other 'bots present, and then at the street beyond. Should be a straight shot back to the ship-- a few minutes drive at top speed. Easy. Right?

Great, here something big comes. Good job Autobots, already getting us into trouble because you can't keep Clamp-Bot on a short enough leash. Quicksight takes off into the air, and with a huff Ravage does what he does best before the towering form gets too close. That is to say, disappear while everyone else is busy staring.

<FS3> Ravage rolls Stealth: Great Success. (8 4 8 3 6 3 2 7 5 2 7 4 7 5)

That is a slightly intimidating femme. Wheeljack's sure there are those on the crew, and those in this group, that wouldn't blink an eye about starting a fight with her, but doing so would probably get them banned from the casino no matter what the whole thing with handlers is about. "We're from the ship the Lost Light," Wheeljack takes it on himself to explain. "Maybe you can explain, now that you're here-- we were under the impression that mechanical life forms were welcome here. What's this about handlers?"

"We want to go inside and play and have fun and spend but they won't let us, and said we have to wait for you and Whirl just got impatient and Lieutenant offered to take responsability if that was needed but," Mercy cuts her rambling off mid-phrase and simply looks to the others as they pipe up, and far more logically than she does.

The sight of such a massive femme would normally have Waspinator sprawled in the dirt with a gesture of submission but with the amount of activity and other lifeforms around, frankly the bug is on edge. He hikes his abdomen, stinger and all, a bit higher and fixes his optics on her as he crouches down defensively. His wings let off a quiet hum as they flicker. In an instant the mech has gone from a fearful animal to a cornered one ready to defend himself (and by extension Skystalker, as he is the one closest to him).

Skystalker almost entirely drowns out Quicksight's com to him with his own thoughts, and Whirl's outburst has him gritting his jaw in heavy silence. It is then that the bulky mech takes up the entrance, and Skystalker gets a good look. Is that...? It is. She's one of them, isn't she? And head of security. The starfighter's tightened frame loosens just a little, wings drooping into a less defensive flare. They are by no means fine, but the little things matter a lot; Skystalker's audials tune to her voice, his optics studying her massive frame and kibble.

Whirl should probably be intimidated, or at the very least convinced that maybe being a total.. Whirl isnt the best idea right now. He should, but he's not. "The problem?" he starts, wiggling in Torque's grasp (she's strong like a robobull). "The problem is that these chucklefucks over here wont let us in without handlers or some crap!" He glares up at the impressively tall.. Cybertronian? Some other robot species? He doesn't know, he doesn't care. "We've got a guy on our ship who is loaded to the brim with cash and we want to spend it, so cut the crap and let us in already!"

Once he's gained enough altitude, Quicksight wheels back towards the guards, and the new arrival. Whatever he expected, it was not a Cybertronian. Especially not a... "<< Decepticon >>" he relays to Ravage "<< I think. Badge is covered. >>" and then, to the whole crew bellow "<< She's well armed, and ...there's somthing on her back... >>"

Torque just gruffs at Whirl. "No, we talk this out. There's gotta be a good reason not to deny us service." And also Torque is stubborn and won't be leaving without answers, namely from the massive femme that stalks out to tower over them all. ..That is one big. Torque is left somewhat speechless, left staring up at her with a look of almost awe and intrigue.

Luckily she isn't as easily scared, standing her ground and not even flinching as they're addressed. Whirl's outburst earns him a snort and a tighter grip, holding him in place without much visible effort. "Settle down, will yah? But yeah, pretty much what they said. We're not lookin' to start trouble. Well.. most of us. We just want some answers."

The look Malice gives Mercy is absolutely scathing... And then the medic is ignored, gaze shifting to look at each bot. They pass over all who bear a red symbol and fall upon the badgeless (and would any those sporting purple). "I don't know what a chucklefuck is an' I will not be speakin' with you," comes that deep, thick voice once more and she proceeds to ignore Whirl as well. She raises a massive servo, only having three digits much like Navy, and pointing to Skystalker and then Lieutenant. "I will speak to you two. The Zarazee Casino requires handlers. Viscount's orders. An' I see all of you an' no handlers."

"That's what I told 'em!" Navy shouted angrily. "And that one assaulted me! It should be dismantled or sol-" Navy's mouth snaps shut from the glare Malice gives.

"I did not... Tell you to speak to me. Don't do so again." Those massive wings splay out, making her look larger as he vents puff out hot, angry air. Then back to the Cybertronians. "Rules change. You follow 'em or deal with me." She looks absolutely disinterested in explaining anything. A quick 'click-clack-click-clack' can be heard from the hushed crowd at the entrance as they all watch in curiosity. Malice's left optic twitches at the sound.

As peeved as Whirl is about being so rudely ignored, he can't help but find some joy in the fact that Navy gets a tongue lashing. Whirl laughs and makes a lewd gesture at them. Ha ha, fuck you!

Mercy may be excitable, and she may often have a hard time realizing when she should be quiet because she isn't helping, the larged winged, oh-so-stern jet makes it very, VERY clear. And so she simply takes a half step back, her shoulders slumping slightly. Instead of speaking, the medic looks to Lieutenant and Skystalker, the apparent chosen ones.

Finetune relaxes, slightly, when it seems the enormous security bot isn't stomping on them. Optimism! She glances back at Mercy for a moment-- and then blinks her blue optics as Malice goes on. "Er. Just for clarification--" she raises a finger. "Just what does a Handler do? And, er, where might we get one if we theoretically wanted to spend money here?" And she glances around, in case there were Handlers lurking around somewhere.

Skystalker may be as tense as a strung wire as he looks on, but it is definitely Malice's pointing to himself and Lieutenant that drums him from whatever reverie he was sinking into, surrounded by talk of handlers. Rather subconsciously, Skystalker moves forward again, hands lowered to his sides and wingtips splaying once more in a silent shift of his frame. There is a slight twitch to his otherwise calm mouth when aAlice cuts off her doorman. So-- changes. That's all? Skystalker clears his vocalizer a little at Finetune, pointedly. He looks back up to the security femme, unafraid to speak at her for all of their trouble so far. Skystalker adds to what Finetune has already asked. "We would like to know so that we can find some-- if that is fair."

Lieutenant and Skystalker? Wheeljack glances back at the both of them, then registers the lack of badges on either of them. Maybe it makes sense that this place would only want to deal with factionless mechs, considering the destruction that tends to follow Bots and Cons both, but considering the group, singling out them seems... off. This place is beginning to seem like more effort to get into that Wheeljack cares for, but the rest of the group had seemed so enthusiastic about it, and leaving Whirl to handle diplomacy on his own seems like a poor idea, to say the least.

"Like they said," he echoes Finetune and Skystalker, "Since we didn't get an update on the rules, apparently."

<< .. Well now, things are getting interesting. >> Is all Ravage comments over the comm to the other two. Back, huh? Seeing as he's already cloaked, Ravage just slinks around behind Malice to take a look for himself. << Strange there was no info on the rules being changed, though. >> Maybe this casino trip won't be so boring after all.

<FS3> Ravage rolls Curiosity: Good Success. (1 2 1 2 7 7 6 1 8)

While the others talk bellow, Quicksight remains airborne, watching the scene from above. His camera clicks a few times. Just in case. The selection of Skystalker and Lieutenant for talks leaves him a bit uneasy. If he had optics in this mode, they would narrow on Malice. And then they would shoot to glare at Navy. He has no love for Whirl, but he has even less for organics that suggest dismantling Cybertronians, as if they were some sort of mindless computers!

It doesn't sit well with Waspinator as Skystalker is called away by Malice. There goes the wall of metal he had protecting his one side, leaving it just as exposed as the other. Out in open bad place to be! Need to get zzafe, but where!? Waspinator, still hiked up, begins to edge towards the next closest mech to him, Wheeljack. Someone he knows is on his ship he will take over the masses of unknown and potentially hostile organics.

Oh, Skystalker is the only badgeless mech here. Thing is though, Lieutenant is actually a badgeless Autobot. This feels like lying, so he stands straighter but a little behind Skystalker when the starfighter steps up. He decides not speak this time though. Best to default to the old, only speak when spoken to directly protocal.

That click-clack sound is getting closer and Malice's lips press into a fine line, body language tense. Her optics flicker, wings shifting with heavy ker-clicks on her back. She glares briefly at Finetune and Wheeljack for their insubordination before her gaze sweeps by all of them. "You should all-" She falls silent, pose snapping into attention. Even the guards snap to attention, Navy's face reflecting obvious pain from his broken ribs. "Viscount," They all say respectfully as an organic walks around Malice.

"I heard there're guests bein' held up at the entry! I can't imagine why but now I can see..." The organic is wearing a sharp, striped suit like the guards, a shoulder cape on her right arm and hiding the limb. She leans on a cane, a brimmed had tilted to cover the right side of her face. Exposed left arm hosts a mechanical gauntlet with screens with data and charts scrolling past. Her two visibil eyes look over each Cybertronian gleefully while a large, curving horn shines in the light. The click-clack was made by cloven hooves, shined brighter than anyone's armor. Following her is a mechanical jackal, a collar tagged around his neck. He sits beside her.

"Let me welcome to the Zarazee Casino! I see you've been right held up, my apologies. I'm Viscount Valeen, owner of this fine establishment. I hear you were all a little confused by our new rule? Not to worry, not to worry at all! All drones, bots, and mecha must be accompanied by an organic handler. For the safety of our patrons and to protect my business's interest. Simple, innit?"

<FS3> Mercy rolls Curiousity: Good Success. (7 2 7 5 6 6 6 7 1 6 5)

Finetune pauses. Huh. -Aristocracy-. As if the term 'Viscount' wasn't enough, there's the suit. And the cane. And the cape. Her face soon stills to one of practiced (if forced) pleasantry. "Viscount." She says in greeting with a polite nod ... and she doesn't offer her own name.

"But...why?" It's a simplle question, from Mercy - it reallyd oesn't make sense to the normally bubbly medic - why do they need an organic handler? Crouching down suddenly, she leans forward to peer more closely at the Viscount, head tilting to the right as she studies the organic. "We aren't going to hurt anyone."

The incredibly racist rule makes a lot more sense when it's revealed that the casino owner is an organic herself. Whirl scoffs. "Oh yeah, real simple. Where the hell are we supposed to find a bunch of organics willing to tolerate us long enough to be considered our handlers?" Seriously, sounds like a shitty job. "Can't you make an exeption just this one? I swear I wont break any more ribs."

You feel that? Yeah, that. Even with him not being visible you can practically FEEL the narrow glare Ravage is giving to the mechanimal trailing after her rather than the Viscount herself. Just the faintest, nearly inaudible growls comes from... it's really hard to tell, considering Ravage isn't even standing in the same spot before, and his stealth systems stifle sound as well as sight. Fortunately professionalism comes to this Decepticon first, and he keeps to just lurking and watching.

Heaven help the fool that tries to stick a collar on -him- though....

Waspinator has no idea what this organic is going on about but one thing stands clear to him: No mecha allowed. At Mercy's comment of not hurting anyone Waspinator can't help but glance at Navy and his harmed ribs. Even Wazzpinator wouldn't believe that. He hides further behind the engineer, trying to keep himself out of sight so when fists fly and guns blast he can book it back to the ship.

Quicksight hisses quietly to hismelf. Ofcourse. "<< Because they're organic fucks >>" he answers Mercy's question over the radio to the group "<< And organic fucks hate us and love to desciminitate against us cause we're mechanical. And that Viscount fuck sounds like elitist scum. >>"

Torque isn't pleased by this, not at all. Nor is she pleased by this new person, the Viscount, sauntering in with her new rules. She wants to keep arguing this, but it's beginning to see futile. So she instead offers another solution. "Why don't we just head back and talk to Command about this? I'm sure we'll figure something out. That or just leave."

"Simple," Wheeljack echoes, ever so slightly disgruntled. He's getting Earth flashbacks from this, from their treatment on the planet after the Decepticons' first defeat. Cybertronians don't have a good reputation even among non-Galactic Council planets, but this is beginning to sound more like good old-fashioned prejudice, as much as he'd rather not agree with Whirl. He's distracted from saying anything further by the way Waspinator sneaks around to hide behind him. He twists in place to try and get a better look at Waspinator. What exactly is he doing?

The appearance of an organic with a title has Skystalker, unwittingly caught at the fore, standing straighter and levelling his wings out, chin lifting in a nearly embedded motion. Perhaps he does not know he does it, taking the stance of someone about to be studied.

Skystalker's eyes draw over the Viscount, stilling once she speaks. Organic handler. It's not the worst thing for the others, but for Skystalker, it causes his gaze to flicker down to the mechanoid jackal and back up to the alien noble.

"Pardon our mistake." And there comes an eerie politeness-- a noble's deference-- that Skystalker spins as naturally as anything, his voice turning to honey and his torso bending forward just ever so slightly. "We were under the impression that the moon was under different rule. If you'll excuse us, we shant take up more of your time." Torque has it, otherwise. This is for command to deal with. Not them.

To any detail oriented person, they might remember that, last checked, The Viscount in charge was named Vigorith. But here stands Valeen, can in hand, whip at her side. She releases the cane and it stays standing so she can stick a long cigarette stick of sorts into her mouth. She snaps her fingers and Maroon is there with a light. Perhaps lighters are mandatory for staff. She breathes in deeply, taking her cane once more, before puffing out the dark purple smoke. "There's volunteer handler services dont thata way, my dear," She says to Whirl, puffing more smoke in his direction. She eyes him with interest... And then with interest at Skystalker and Waspinator. And Wheeljack too. All of them, so many. She looks past them, letting out a smoke circle from the corner of her mouth, and to the giant sillouette of the Lost Light.

"Nice ship ya got... I'm afraid I can't go allowin' exceptions. Ain't that right, Mally my dear?" Malice looked like she'd like to growl but instead, nodded with aneutral expression. "Now hold on there... Hold on... You all made quite a ruckus to get in... Are all of ya so eager to get into my Casino? Truly and surely?"

Whirl's optic flickers when a plume of smoke is blown right into his no-face. The look of interest she gives him doesn't go unnoticed either but considering she gives it to everyone gathered here, he doesn't feel too concerned. "Of course we're eager, why the hell do you think we've been making such a stink trying to get in? You think we do this for kicks?" Well, he does, but he's pretty sure he's the only one here.

Ravage is starting to get a sneaky suspicion that Malice may be less employed by the Viscount and more Valeen is her 'handler'. Really, other than the initial founding out someone else was suspiciously in charge, Ravage is not at all surprised by someone new still being prejudiced against mechanical lifeforms. They haven't exactly made a good name for themselves.

Though that just raises the question of how Valeen replaces Vigorith. Because he has this feeling it wasn't just the old man retiring...

Finetune glances up (and up) at Malice. Down at the Viscount. Then back at the ragtag collection of her crewmates. "Sorry, Mercy." Finetune says, "Sounds like our money's not wanted here." She nods in agreement with Torque, and then goes a step further--

With that telltale sound that Cybertonians are known for, Finetune shifts and transforms down into a sleek maroon roadster-- at which points she gives a little rev of her engine, the ensuing rumbling loud enough to be felt by anyone standing too close. 
"I say we roll."

Viscount doesn't react to Mercy's inspection and totally not because someone didn't miss that pose. But the flickering of her ears say she enjoys it. Malice rumbles a little, like a warning not to try anything. BEcause she can and would step on the medic.

"Excuse me," Mercy repeats, reaching out to try and ohhhhh so gently nudge Viscount, the motion kept slow and nonthreatening (as much as that can be done by a Cybertronian), to draw her attention and get her question answered. "-Why-?" she repeats. Her curiousity has been peaked now; she wants an answer. She may be easily overlooked normally,b ut she is fairly sure a gentle poke will let the little organic realize she's there.

Mercy glances back at Finetune as she makes her suggestion, and frowns. "But I want to now -why-."

No Waspinator is in no way eager truly and surely to get into the casino. He is trapped between a rock and a hard place, specifically Malice and Valeen and a run back to the ship through a crowd of unknown organics. When Finetune, Skystalker, and torque say their bit about leaving, Waspinator zips over to them with a buzz of flight. Yeah, he's with them if they are leaving. "Wazzpinator izz ready to go back..." Is the quiet comment made to the three of them, making it clear he wants nothing to do with this casino anymore.

Torque is just about ready to haul Whirl over a shoulder and head on back to the ship, but she's left hesitating when the Viscount appears to have the signs of a change of heart. This.. doesn't feel right. "We tend to get a little riled up after being stuck on a ship for so long." She glances back to Valeen, expression looking a tad unsure. "But look, you said you don't make exceptions, so if that's how it is then it's just better if we go talk this over with the others." Surely there's more recreational planets out there that (hopfully) accept mecha. Nodding to the others, she hangs a look over to Mercy in particular and motions with her head back to the Lost Light. "C'mon, Mercy, not the time, we'll ask later."

"I think we'll need to talk this over with our Command crew, as we've said," Wheeljack says, turning a look on Whirl. "Better let the rest of the ship know, so that there aren't any other incidents like this." He's beginning to step back as he says that. He's not especially happy with being surveyed like that. "Thank you for taking the time to explain."

"We intended to spend no small time here on our way through the system." Skystalker's way of saying it is more diplomatic than Whirl's, but it's certainly the same. Sort of. Skystalker's optics alight on Mercy's movements, a flash of nerves under the surface and hoping quickly that she doesn't get fired on. You don't just--- Torque, bless her, steps in. Sky looks up and back to Waspinator when he buzzes close, lifting a hand to him in a calm motion to set palm to hanging leg. "We will catch up to you. Find a quiet place."

"<< Already toldja, medic. They're elitist scum >>" Quicksight grumbles from his airborne position. Like hell is he going to trudge around some fragging organic! He makes no move of leaving with some of the others right now either. If anything goes wrong, it's better to have eyes in the skies, and a fast messenger if needed.

The Viscount raises her cane, using it to press against Mercy's finger so she is not physically touched. "Why? Maybe you should ask Mally here. Oh Mally! Would you like to explain why? No? My apologies, but it looks like she doesn't want to tell you." Although Viscount's glance to her shoulder cape may just hint. Malice rumbles a low growl, wings shifting up.

The Viscount glances down at the jackal with a smile. "Corky, do they smell trusty to ya? Do they, boy?" The mechanimal's audios twitched and he huffed. "Hmm, yes I agree... Alright, you all go and talk to who's large and in charge and come on back! I've decided to free up the bar for ya! Its outter entry is over thata way. No handlers needed and you can have ya first drink on me. But you're still goin' to need 'em to enter the Casino. Official policy and all. Drinks in the casino will be on me too, as a complimentary apology for this disaster. Be sure to tell your Command that. Oh! And the guards'll be dealt with too." Navy and Maroon somehow seemed to pale despite the scale and fur "Again, my humblest of apologies. I hope to see ya all soon, yes?" She puffs out more smoke, waving towards the Cybertronians.

"Seems pretty simple to me, Mercy." Finetune says, just over the rumble of her engine. She pauses, however, and eases off on her revving as the Viscount at least offers free drinks. Huh. She remains in vehicle mode, however, ready to make her exit should the need arise.

"<< This bear farther investigate >>" Ravage murmurs over the radio to Quicksight and Skystalker. Because they're about the only two here he would trust at the moment. Well, in this particular situation. He's gotten to at least accept Mercy, but she's a wee bit too excitable and open-sparked for when a more... subtle approach might be needed later.

Mercy stops when the cane pushes against her finger, and when both Finetune and Torque speak to her. Sighing softly, Mercy straightens and steps back. "But I wanted to have fun tonight...this isn't fun at all." She looks, and sounds, ike she's ready to go back to the Lost Light, just like the others.

Torque's optics narrow ever so slightly at the Viscount's offer, shifting to hang heavily on Malice before looking back. "Thank you. We'll.. get back to you on that." Whirl, who doesn't seem to be doing anything right now, is let go in favor of her hand being outstretched to Mercy, offering to walk back with her. "Ah, don't look down down. Let's go make our own fun while we sort this out." Chipper once more, her antennas wiggle in enthusiasm before striking off back to the ship with the rest of the crew.

"<< Yeah. >>" Quicksight voices his agreement with the other Decepticon. He doesn't like this one bit. Now, part of that might be because he doesn't like organics in general, especaially these ones, but there's something nagging at him too. This place was supposed to be mechanical-friendly, and suddenly it isn't? Plus, he has nothing but trust and respect for Ravage, and his skill and intuition. He isn't one of Soundwave's most trusted spies for nothing, right?

"You'll have no intentional trouble from us." Skystalker makes a personal point to note this. It's important with this bunch. He bends again and gives the Viscount a nod before stepping back, wingtips ticking in itchy silence and a smile getting tossed to Torque. He wants to get back. "We'll definitely relay your generosity to our Command." Those steps back become strides now, and Skystalker is quick to pivot on his heels to go. No more of that today.

Waspinator doesn't want to waste anymore time than he has to but Skystalker's gesture is a clear signal to hold for the moment. He fully lands, shifting from foot to foot. Wazzpinator juzzt want to go back, why wazzting time?? When Torque and Skystalker start to head back, Waspinator is quick to follow.

<FS3> Mercy rolls Kind Sparked: Good Success. (8 3 4 4 5 7 1 5 2 3 7)

Mercy reaches out to take Torque's outstretched hand, the offer seeming to cheer her up just a little bit. "Oh, we can go to Swerve's and have our own party? And we won't have to spend anything here!" Hey -that- isn't such a bad thing, right? And her comment may even unintentionally make a point to those behind her (though that's doubtful). Catching herself, the soft-sparked medic glances over her shoulder and briefly chastises Viscount, "Hey, don't be mean to the guards. They were enforcing -your- rules."

Malice watches the troupe go, stance relaxing and rather impassive look setting on her features as she shifts her massive girth on her pedes. A huff of what may be mistaken for amusement leaves her vents, armor still held close and tight. She bows her helm to the Viscount before turning and heading in the direction of the aforementioned bar that Valeen oh so kindly offered free drinks from to all the Cybertronians. Inbetween her massive wings is something running alonge her spinal strut. It's hard to tell if its further armor or something else. She doesn't say anything to her fellow Cybertronians as she goes.

Viscount Valeen doesn't seem to mind Malice leaving and taps her cane on the ground, the affectionately named 'Corky' standing. "They enforced them poorly. Take no offense, it's just business, deary." She nods to all of them and takes a long drag before turning on her hooves and strutting back into the casino. The flick of her cane and the guards follow, replaced by a pair wearing a deep Violet and the other a... PErhaps a Blood-orange could describe it.

The mechanimal lingers, snout twitching and audios turning. He stares at everyone until a sharp whistle makes him turn and trot off after the Viscount. After a moment, the stream of patrons into the Casino resumes, a small hubub abounding and rumors and gossip spreading. Cybertronians seem to be hot new topic.

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