2016-12-29 Thou Shalt Not Pass

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Thou Shalt Not Pass
Date 2016/12/29
Location C-E Spacestation
Participants Blast Off, Brainstorm, Folly, Gearshift, Kickback, Lieutenant, Mirage, Rung, Tailgate, Vortex, Whetstone, Whisper
NPCs Clockwise, Scanner
Plot Functionist Station
Scene GM Soundwave
Summary It looks clean, almost too clean, and the locals are friendly, almost too friendly

The C-E Station looks to be something drawn straight out of the Golden Age. Grand, chrome, and clearly Cybertronian in design and structure, its rather magnificent. And while it gleams and glistens in space, there's a shimmer in the non-existent air around it. A shield to protect it from solarwinds upgraded to protect from potential threats and invaders.

Thankfully, there has been communication with station and the Lost Lighters have been invited to come aboard and experience the fully neutral settlement for themselves! There's a promise of energon and other goodies along with shops. With this arrangement came an agreement that the station's shield would be lowered to allow the Lost Lighters aboard and then lowered once more when they wanted to leave.R

A fine arrangement if not for the Lost Light itself. Despite its size, the space station its no where near large enough to allow the likes of the Lost Light to dock. So, instead, those who would like to venture onto the station will need to be shuttled in by ships or those capable of space travel to see the peaceful and clearly thriving settlement.

Shields lowered and several of the docks cleared for landing, the first wave of Lost Lighters are allowed to land at the station. Pilots and shuttles alike will appreciate just how clean the landing area and docking stations are, a lone and plain mech sweeping away debris and dust not too far off. Not far beyond him is a pair scrubbing down a shuttle.

For those already stretching their legs after the brief journey over, there's arrows painted on the ground to show mechs which direction to go to get to a station entry. The whole place hums with activity, efficient, efficient activity.

Gearshift is immediately taken by the architecture itself. She's, quite frankly, surprised to see such old style aesthetics on the station. There's stars in her optics as she starts pointing out little details to anyone who's nearby or willing to listen, like the way the golden-age buildings were designed with form and function in mind, and though Gearshfit herself never admired functionist rhetoric, it's a bit of a plus when it comes to buildings.

The femme is taking her sweet time getting to the entry, because she keeps getting caught up in her own admiration.

Of course Folly's most interested to meet the station, and the fact that they seem peaceful is a plus...not like that carnival she went to, not that many issues..erm sweeps ago. The small Femme has actually been prattling on about seeing the new sights, and talking to all sorts of new and wonderful machines. She's quickly off the shuttle, then slowly sort of dance/walks around in a circle as she surveys the sights. "Do you see all that?" She gestures to a fanciful and elaborate bit of the station that seems to be twisted into an elegant spiral. "That's a 'twist of cheribon', that was....Era Two I think? The height of spun metal design." She promptly tilts her head, then plops down on the entryway, listening. "The walkways are talking too.." She hums to herself, "Hmmmmmmm MMmmmmmmh. Whaaaat are you sssaaaaaaying?" Her tiny eneraetherometer flickers into her hand, gauging and twisting like a compass gone mad as she tries to interpret its words.

Tailgate is hardly one to miss a trip off of the ship if he can help it, and definitely when the trip from A to B has been long enough that he is really feeling the sea legs. Space legs? As they dock at the station, he has already taken note that this place looks a lot like the one he woke to eons ago. Golden age and all. He's been listening off and on as Folly talks and talks, and even then he can't help but be curious.

"'Scuse me!" Tailgate chirps as he edges around Folly, still enveloped in her attempts to give a listen to the docksite. He's learned to be used to how she does things. "Wow, look at this place. Penchant'll totally want to take notes, huh?" Tailgate remarks to nobody in particular, craning his head back to look up and down this part of the station.

Anytime the crew gets to go on shoreleave some crazy shit happens and Whirl isn't going to miss it this time. As soon as they were cleared to go, Whirl and Blast Off made the trip over to the station with the latter being the mode of transportation. Truly Whirl is riding in style.

"Holy crap, can you believe how clean this place is?" he exclaims after Blast Off docks and lets him out. "It makes the Lost Light look like a shithole!" Waiting for the shuttleformer to transform so they can begin their exploration, Whirl catches sight of the mechs scrubbing down a shuttle. "Huh." He feels oddly embarrassed watching it.

Mirage takes only one step outside of the shuttle when he is struck by the beauty of the place. Whoever owns this station takes the utmost pride and care in it. The scout hesitates, glancing back at the shuttle that they arrived in. Mirage sighs. Standing in a place like this, the scout feels positively shabby in comparison. If he had known they were going to be meeting such grand company he would have taken more pains to appear respectable.

If he cannot appear respectable, he might as well not appear at all. When he is only one step out of the shuttle, when optics are too busy marveling at their surroundings to look like him, he fades into invisibilty.

Whetstone has been mildly wary of such a pristine station, but someone needed to protect the short ones! And also represent the GODLINESS of their crew. "Mind your words!" he says to Whirl, mostly out of alarm. He plods along in wyvern mode, head held low to the ground, optics perfect, wide circles. "We run a very clean ship!"

Rung just happens to be one of the mech's Gearshift is gushing to about the architecture, indulgent smile on his face. He doesn't really understand what she is talking about but as always he is more than willing to listen as his eyes scan this way and that beneath his glasses. The place is gorgeous. It reminds him so much of what Cybertron had been back before the war. of course, those hadn't been the happiest of times either- he has just as many negative stories as positive- but it is giving him an almost overwhelming sense of nostalgia.

"Almost reminds me of the Translucentia Heights in its heyday," Kickback notes aloud, walking near Gearshift. He spies the worker, polishing everything. "... Very much so." He's immediately decided this entire setup is potentially a trap. Nothing this clean and welcoming to Cybertronian life is ever a safe place for them to be, and as such, he will be on high alert.

He can't resist being himself, however. As Whetstone corrects the crew, he loudly states in agreement, "Yes, the Lost Light is very clean, I've chewed and licked every surface in that ship to make it so!"

Magnificent AND Cybertronian? Blast Off likes it already. Anything fancy is a plus in his book. Also a plus? Getting to use his alt mode and give Whirl a ride in style. Normally Blast Off doesn't like giving people rides, but Whirl is somehow an exception. Admiring the view, he transforms, going from MUCH larger than Whirl to definitely smaller. Now he looks up, violet optics shining. "It looks rather splendid, yes. This architecture is reminiscent of some of the greater classics. I have a good feeling about this place, they look quite *sophisticated*!" He catches sight of Whirl looking... embarrassed? Glancing to the side he sees- a shuttle being washed. Hmm. He gives Whirl a cocked optic ridge. "Hey," he says, elbow lightly jutting into Whirl's side, his voice light as his touch, "The best shuttle is *right here*..."

Gearshift can't help giggling at Kickback's response to Whetstone. Her servo finds his and twines their digits "And we all appreciate your hard work very much." She's half-joking, because if Kickback really has put in that kind of effort, it won't go unnoticed, especially not by Gearshift.

She's also engaging with Folly as well, "Yes it is second-era. Fantastic to see it in person isn't it?"

"Hmmmmmm. Mhmmmmmmmh.." Folly intones again. She looks up to Tailgate, her eyes totally unfocused. They recalibrate a little into her standard 'one eye too big for her face' look that she sports. "It speaks in a strange dialect. Something about purpose." She clasps her hands together in thought Hmmm, I need...I need something from here. To talk to. A" She sort of wrings her hands for a moment, "A souvenier, yes.." For the most part, she sort of sticks to Tailgate as he's about her size, and twice as affable! She trundles on next to him, her skirt of metal jangling and bouncing as she moves. "I hope they have benzene candy..."

The mech sweeping looks up just a moment, smile on his face from all the compliments on how the place looks. He returns to sweeping with renewed vigor. As for the two washing the shuttle, if Whirl were to really pay attention, he'd notice a spot of purple where they worked on a bright yellow shuttle. And then its covered with suds- must've beena trick of the optic.

From the edges of the dock strip, is a little scuttling sound, following along all of those who make their way to the entryway into the station.

It was beautiful. Lieutenant's seismic sense registers intensely the bustling of the station, to the point where it is immensely distracting. He's only escaping the lost light to find something. Especially with the old-Cybertronian-esque going on. He doesn't quite stay with the group, he goes down with the arrows with where they point, trying to clear his HUD of all the alerts coming from his senses. It's not an earthquake, it's just an the immense crowd! Relax!

"Maybe because it's so organized? I wish we had labels painted like this in Storage." Tailgate laughs quietly to Folly and peers down to the ground under his feet, then looking up as everyone finally disembarks. Every field trip needs head counts, and the minibot files his away once he notes everyone that came down. Wasn't Mirage on the ship? Hmm. The mech sweeping nearby catches his attention when the compliments have him tickled pink and renewing his work efforts, and for a moment Tailgate offers a bright look back before considering his crewmates again.

Whirl could've sworn he saw something unusual about the shuttle but he forgets all about it when Blast Off elbows him and delivers that cheeky line. "The best of the best," is his cheesy response. He makes sure to give Whetstone a rude gesture before making his way towards the entry. "Seriously though, the cleanliness is kind of creeping me out. It's seems so unnatural."

Rung continues to listen to the others as he looks around. But slowly the smile on his face is fading. The more he looks around, the more his nostalgia turns dark. He had always expected to miss things about how it had been, to feel happy to see all of this again. Instead... It is just making him sad, reminding him of how bad things were before the war- before mechs fought against a faulty system.

... But obviously Rung isn't about to say that out loud and ruin everyone's good time! So the therapist forces a kind smile on his face and just continues to indulge everyone else's prattling as he walks over to Tailgate, "So, what do you think?"

"Unnatural? Whirl, you realize there are those of us who *like* some order and neatness?" Blast Off sweeps a hand as he takes in the sights, "This is the way I try to live my own life, but /you/ don't make it that easy, you know." He isn't too cross, though, instead appearing much more at ease with the rotary than he would with most others. The shuttle's face scrunches just a bit as he adds softly, "Speaking of which, I've noticed some of my wine bottles have gone... missing as of late." The Combaticon studies Whirl's reaction to that before returning to look around at the people and scenery.

While everyone else rushes ahead, Mirage lingers in the shadow of the shuttle. He tells himself it's because he's doing a bit of recon, but it's by and large his first hesitations holding him back. The scout bites his lip. Is he really needed here, anyways? Everything seems orderly here. What could possibly go wrong? He won't be missed.

Instead of following after the group, Mirage edges towards one of the cleaning mecha and 'borrows' his supplies while his back strut is turned. Maybe he can do something to make the shuttle look a little bit more servicable before they leave? That way they won't come off as a complete pigsty. Mirage ghosts back to the parked shuttle to begin scrubbing, but as he works he keeps an optic out on the landing docks just to be safe.

Folly furrows her brow, making her eyes actually appear normal for a bit as she considers Tailgate's words. "Perhaps. But that would mean that the Lost Light is something of a collection of layabouts..."

Earlier: Folly regards Slackjaw laying in the hallway, she steps over him politely.

"Pointless arguments..."

Earlier: A mecha pokes his finger into another's chest, "If you say one more thing against 'Release the Kraken-bot', I swear I'm going to overhaul you with a destabilizer ray!" The second mech holds up his hands, "I said I like it, I like it!" "Thats it!" exclaims the first, and the fistfight starts.

"And useless people."
Earlier: Folly regards herself in a mirror for a moment, posing with her head tilted.

Kickback is close enough to Rung to notice that change of expressions on the psychometrist's face, along with the follow-up of carefully practiced calm and control. If there's one thing the evil deeds of his past have taught him, it's how to read someone. Seems like he isn't the only one on edge.

"Were you ever allowed into any of the high caste areas before the war, Gearshift?" Kickback asks his travelling companion.

Gearshift shakes her helm "even after Turnabout took me in, I wasn't allowed. I think they could smell the Kaon on me." She smirks. "I don't know that I would have enjoyed it at all though." She's too used to noise and brawls and drinking, and after that it was Earth with all of its green and cities, and bustling inhabitants. "Why?" She asks, leaning into Kickback affectionately.

"No, I'm with Whirl on this one" That's Brainstorm, poking up right behind the odd couple as he catches up with the rest of the group. He got a tiny bit held back, finishing up some fiddling with some curved, handheld device that he'd been fiddling with on the ride. Now that it's safely tucked away in his chest compartment, he can enjoy the sights with all the others "When something's this clean, they either boring, or hiding something."

Whetstone snorts faintly at Whirl's gesture. "Hrrrn." A pointed ear flicks at the distant scuttling. He lingers at the back of the group, lifting his lengthy neck to try and spy the source. His keen senses fail to pick up on stealthy stealthy Mirage, though.

"Nobody's useless. Now, lazy and argumentative, that's another story, isn't it?" The head of security gives Folly an amused look. Tailgate looks up as Rung moves closer, and he offers the orange mech a smiling look. "Well, it's something. No pirates, though. I'll take that. What about you?" He takes a moment to look over towards Brainstorm at his addition. "Let's hope it's boring, then. We're exciting enough for five space stations, aren't we?"

From darkened corners come a soft blue glow of a visor, spying on the visitors. From one little hiding spot to the other, just a faint 'click-click' of feet on the ground. If anyone should feel like someone is staring at them, its Whetstone.

As for those who get to the entryway, they'll find the magnificient doors sweep open to an equally clean- perhaps more sterile- but no less elegant waiting room of sorts. Which opens up into the area beyond, filled with bustling and badgeless Cybertronians. Its like walking into a mall's food court but more organized. And chrome. And clean.

The only thing stopping the Lost Lighters from joining the bustle is a gate made of energon bars and a mech at a desk, looking board and fiddling with a device. As anyone enters, however, he stands at attention. Thankfully, he only has a faceplate so no forced smile is available. "Welcome to the C-E's check in!"

Kickback leans over and whispers something in Gearshift's audials, covering his mouth so as not to have his lips read.

Mirage goes home.

Uh oh, looks like Blast Off finally noticed that someone has been getting into his wine rack. "Er.. well, you see.." Whirl starts, but thankfully Brainstorm pops out of nowhere and changes the subject. "Right? And if past experience is anything to go by, my best is that they're hiding something rather than they're just boring though those two things aren't mutually exclusive."

The cleanliness gets even more intense as Whirl spots the room just past the entryway. Too bad there's some bullshit check-in to go through before he can continue yelling about how weird and clean it is. "What the hell is this? You gonna check our I.Ds or something?"

A servo slowly rises to Gearshift's mouth, her optics dimming as she listens. Turning to Kickback, she gives his servo a squeeze as they walk. Once they reach the waiting area, her plating shifts. She's unsettled by how orderly a place that should not be orderly is.

She tilts her helm up and whispers to Kickback "I know what you mean."

"It is.." Rung doesn't want to say what is really on his mind, it would probably ruin any good time for the others, "As you said, definitely something. it looks a lot like Cybertron did before the war. His attention is grabbed by that guard outside the door however, the slight frown returning as he fully takes in the inner area of the place. Even for what he remembers its... a bit too clean, too organized. Even some government buildings would have a mech or two in a rush or lazing about.

Folly stops as Tailgate manages his cheerful reply. She tilts her head, her index fingers pointedly tapping against each other, then looks away for a moment.

A chibi and poorly animated Blast Off throws his hands up in the air in a single frame. "HUFFF! I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE ALONG, AND I HATE EVERYONE WHO ISN'T ME." A grumpy Ultra Magnus standing about as tall as Folly, his head as large as most of his body exclaims, "YOU ARE AN ASSET TO THIS MISSION, OF WHICH I AM ALWAYS VERY CRASS ABOUT." Suddenly there's Pipes...or is that Tailgate, or Pipesgate standing next to Folly with those pleased chibi eyes, "WE ARE ALL YOUR CONJUNX ENDURA NOW." Everyone opens their chassis plates together, and say in the same monotone, "yay."

Folly blinks, snapping herself back into reality, then hurries along to follow the others.

"It is.." Rung doesn't want to say what is really on his mind, it would probably ruin any good time for the others, "As you said, definitely something." it looks a lot like Cybertron did before the war. His attention is grabbed by that guard outside the door however, the slight frown returning as he fully takes in the inner area of the place. Even for what he remembers its... a bit too clean, too organized. Even some government buildings would have a mech or two in a rush or lazing about.

Blast Off frowns under his faceplate at Whirl's reaction (gonna need to bring that up again later), then blinks as a voice pipes up behind them, turning his head to scoff with a soft huff at Brainstorm- AND Whirl. "Or perhaps they just have *taste* and *class*. That doesn't necessarily mean either boring OR deception. Perhaps they simply like the finer things in life. As *I* do. That is a skill, an attribute, a PLUS not a minus, you know!" His head tilts as he takes in the scientist, suddenly remembering he was banned from Brainstorm's lab earlier. Is he still banned? He... doesn't know. It WAS during the ticks incident, surely he would get a little leeway for that? Then again, Combaticons rarely get leeway for much anything it seems... He's not quite sure how to bring the subject up, however.

Blast Off stops as they reach the check in, taking in the elegant sights and sounds. At Whirl's reaction, Blast Off steps forward towards the mech at the desk. The shuttleformer strides in elegant confidence. This is his kind of place, his kind of people, he just knows it! "Please, Whirl, let me handle this..." Speaking to the mech he says, "Yes, we are from the Lost Light, here to look around?" He stand there proudly, sure to show off the kibble on his chest and back (and those rocket feet) that scream *space shuttle*. You know, HIGH CLASS.

Whetstone eyes the shadows of the entry for a moment longer, before shrugging them off. Of course they're going to be spectacles here. They always are! Maybe some nosey newsies are getting some shots. "Perhaps just a weapons search," he murmurs upon seeing the check-in. "Which I suppose isn't... unreasonable." He rolls back onto his haunches and watches Blast Off take the lead.

Lieutenant shuts off his HUD entirely, understanding he'll no early warnings if something comes at him. The Lost Lighters have a habit of getting into trouble so he knows it's not the smartest move. But in honesty, Mortilus himself could come up to the avian to finally take him away and Lieu would bitchslap him. He is here to get a few things for his Amicas and the rest of him family now that it has returned in his life. Life is going to get better, and he will make sure it stays on that path.

The avian blinks as there is a call for identification. Not unreasonable. Hopefully it is just a weapons check because he hasn't pulled out his ID since he joined the LL. So digging that and dusting it off will probably take time. Lieutenant merely stands off to the side, fishing through his subspace for his ID, while watching to see how they handle Blast Off.

"Right." Though Rung answers him, Tailgate seems a little suspicious of his not quite answer. Maybe he can ask once they are done checking in here. As Blast Off approaches the check-in, Tailgate angles up alongside him with a "Hello!" at the check-in mech before the shuttle starts speaking. Blast Off is good at this kind of thing, kibble angling and all.

"Well, if they're hiding something boring" Brainstorm nods "Though I'm not sure why anyone would do that." Blast Off's retort only earns a quirked brow ridge "High class and boring aren't mutually exclusive." but enough of that. Looks like they got somewhere. The engineer peeks around Blast Off at the guard, and his device, looking up only when Whetstone speaks up "That might be a little difficult since most of us have them built in. Might as well just slap a weapon lock on all of us."

The mech at the desk is anything but a Guard. A lanky guy, he's anything but intimidating but he doesn't look overwhelmed but the sudden surge of people. He smiles at Rung, nodding his helm... His visor shutters as he looks at all those speaking before focusing on the one who directly spoke to him, Blast Off. "Well, welcome to C-E, sir. We are excited to have visitors again! Usually its just the traders, but this is- ahem... Yes, if you want to enter, we need some form of ID- your ID card issued on Cybertron-" because everyone has those after four million years, right?- "or other method of identification that's Cybertronian approved will suffice."

"And I'm afraid we don't allow any weaponry aboard the station. We have bins to the side you may store them in- they lock and unlock with your comm code- and you will have to disable anything built in. We trust you to help us maintain the peace but any activation of weaponry results in immediate removal from the station." The mech shakes his device. "This authenticates identifcation and that you've removed and deactivated weaponry." Its well rehearsed but hey, some jobs have scripts. "So, if you'll all just form a line..."

Whisper looks blank. Cybertronian ID. Does she have a Cybertronian ID? She looks off into the middle distance and does a systems check. Is there any part of her systems that retains the ID signature she used to have.

Rung relaxes a bit as he gets closer and sees the mech clearly. Alright not a guard then, he just appears to be some sort of desk worker. Identification.. right... Rung is quick to start going through his many pockets, the one bad side of his role in the past: he actually has many forms of identification, which are soon in his hands as he tries to figure out which would be best to present. Among them are his more recent IDs, his certification card which proved to most ships he was who he claimed to be, and even his old functionist era ID card (the one labelling him as an ornament). Which one would they want?

"Oh you really are going to check our I.Ds," Whirl says unenthusiastically. "And no weapons? What a friggin' surprise. I hope you have enough bins, buddy." This is the part where Whirl starts pulling guns out of every nook and cranny of his body, but first he presents his identification. It's old. Real old. About four million years old and it looks it. The picture on it is blurry with age but the name and function are still clear. It reads 'Whirl, Watchmaker.' "That's history right there, my friend," he says, tapping the card.

Gearshift is taken off guard by the request for ID. She got rid of her old one, the one that designated her a scout, once she had arrived on Earth. When she came back to Cybertron, however, she was issued a new ID, one that says 'N.A.I.L.' She hates it, honestly, but if she has to pick between insulting acronym or a reminder of an antiquated and dark time in her life, she'll take the insulting acronym.

Gearshift readies her ID, and glances at Kickback, curious about his own.

Hmm. Blast Off's frown returns at the mention of having to relinquish or disable his weapons, though he has a faceplate on so no one likely notices. "I have this," he says, glancing down as Tailgate joins him and taking a small ID out of subspace. "My crew roster ID on the Lost Light. ...I will disable my leg cannons. We are not here to fight, simply to enjoy what I can see are rather intriguing and sophisticated surroundings." He makes no mention of the ionic blaster he has in subspace, nor does he offer to give it up.

He then watches as Whirl pulls out all his weapons, giving the mech a look- though it's hard to read. As Whirl brings out that card, Blast Off can't help but lean in to see it closer. He reads it, then glances up to the rotary. "Whirl..." He mutters, voice laden with a strange sympathy, before it fades and he straightens. Back to business. His leg cannons click off, then he looks up expectantly. "Can we enter now?"

Locating her identification, Whisper goes still for an extended beat. Then she resumes searching as though she did not pause. Whisper asks in a very quiet but polite voice: "Your pardon, please. What if I have misplaced my identification?"

Tailgate considers the request for identification, and though his search is a little long, he finally produces an identification card yellowed with an age spent in a low-lit, poorly aired space with a lot of gassy runoff, like a book spent decades in a smoky home. He also has his Lost Light identification, after he was registered with the ship roster. The first gets quietly tucked away, and Tailgate instead offers up his newer one, complete with his ship ranking and role that match a small security badge at his chest but contrasts the 'Waste Disposal' still etched on one forearm.

Whetstone huffs once more and clacks back into root mode. ID. Hummm. It's pretty entertaining watching everyone struggle with their IDs. "I've not but the emblem of Theophany... as a Knight of the Circle there," he cautiously draws a little palm-sized medal from subspace, "And the OATH I TOOK. I can recite it to prove myself!" He promptly launches into said oath. "-forever burns with the Light of the Endless Circle-" ... "-sworn to protect his people in the name of PRIMUS- w'- I can't part with my greatsword, it's a holy relic!" But he does shed his scimitars into the bin. Frowning deeply.

Kickback reaches into his torso, opening a hidden compartment still untouched during all his days spying on alien worlds for Phase 1. The card he carries is marked with an unusual seal, one that looks something like a gear with three dots around a center. NAME: Kickback. FUNCTION: Entertainer. And underneath? Alt-Mode Exempt. He holds it in such a way that Gearshift can see if she likes.

"Well, I hope you'll take our word on it" Brainstorm comments, digging out hsi own Lost Light id. It's a bit hard to miss that he does infact have weapons, given the twin barrels justting out behind him, but he honestly has no intention of using them any time soon. He just makes the things.

Whetstone's oath goes completely ignored in favour of Whirl's pile, and his card. The first gets an amused look, the later, he actually tries to lean around the copter to get a better look at "Huh, never took you for a craftsman."

Gearshift's optics widen a touch as she leans and whispers something to Kickback, but otherwise behaves casually. She can't say she's not impressed with the pre-war ID, and can't help but get a little excited for the reaction of the guard when she and her partner reach the desk.

Lieutenant is not using his real ID and letting some stranger realize he was once a minibot that was only as tall as his name. That and the word Outlier printed on it to label him. No one really need to know that, since it's nothing special. He still never understood why anyone bothered categorizing him when his gig was only remembering things. His ID is just something he wishes he could leave behind, but at least he doesn't need it often.

The avian takes out his Lost Light ID instead since it doesn't have any of the nonsense his primary one does.

As for weapons, Lieutenant feels rather naked without his gun holsters as he pulls them off. Sniper rifle in his subspace? Suppose they'd want that too, along with the explosives, grenades, and stasis cuffs? Hm, better keep the cuffs. You never know. Datapads -although they could double as weapons- stay, as do the sweets and energon cubes.

The mech tries not to gawk at the weaponry. But he's just a doormech, seeing and dealing with weapons is not just job and that's SO MUCH. The antique ID shoved at him catches his attention however. He brings up his device and scans it. His device 'BUH-BEEPS!' "Welcome, Whirl! I assure you we have, uh, plenty of bins. Just set them in there... carefully, and then deactivate your..." he waves to his chassis. Those gun tits, Whirl. They need to be turned off. Then Gearshift. Buh-Beep! "Welcome, Gearshift!"

He keeps scanning those who present their card, greeting them and glancing over at Whisper. "I'm afraid we need an identification for you to enter, sorry. And! No weapons!" That means even your and your sword, Whetstone! "I assure you, it will be beyond secured and safe. You have my-"


The mech looks at Blast Off and his ID. "Er, my apologies, sir. But that isn't authenticated. I'm afraid you can't enter." Tailgate's ID gets a BWAH-WAH too. "Same with you, sir. Er, do either of you two have any other IDs?"

"Set them in carefully, got it." Whirl starts casually throwing his weapons into the bin. Gun after gun after gun. There's even a rifle in there, where was he even hiding that? The very last thing he relinquishes is a tiny pistol taken from a gap in his thigh armour. He drops it ontop of the pile with a 'plink.' His chest cannons are deactivated (reluctantly) and he snatches his I.D back but doesn't proceed any further when Blast Off's I.D gets a very jarring, very annoying BWAH WAH sound.

Well so much for the Lost Light ID. Useless. Lieutenant frowns prominently when it's denied. He finishes working on handing over his weapons, before going back to handing the clerk his primary ID from when he was Ten. His wings spread a little wider to make himself look larger, glaring at him. Go ahead, he dares you to say Welcome, Ten.

Rung watches from the corner of his eye as the others get either allowed entry or denied. It doesn't escape his notice that all those who presented Lost Light identification were denied. Which leaves Rung with one option... he puts away the other IDs and frowns as he holds out his old one, his 'functionist' one. Anyone who might be looking would see it says Rung with the word 'ornament' on the function slot.

Whetstone has unsheathed his big blade and is literally clinging to it. He eyes the mechs that are allowed passage, then looks around, as if he could find some loophole in plain sight. At long last he relents, carefully setting his greatsword neck to the others. "It has... great sentimental value," he tells the clerk. "See to it that it's safe, /please/-" Then Whirl haphazardly drops his weapons atop it. All Whetstone can think to do is stiffen and glare.

Whetstone's presence is noted as Blast Off can't help but turn around to stare at the big mech sounding off with the trumpets and fury. When did THAT guy get on the ship? But soon, Blast Off's attention is brought to Brainstorm commenting on Whirl's card. He mutters, "Whirl had a life before... all this, you know." He'll let Whirl say anything further- it's his business, not Blast Off's.

Then Blast Off blinks as his ID is refused. "What?!" The shuttleformer huffs indignantly. "We were brought here, brought to believe that we would be welcomed as fellow Cybertronians. Look at us, and think. It's obvious we came from the Lost Light, which came from Cybertron! Are you questioning that a *space shuttle* isn't Cybertronian?" He doesn't produce any other identification, namely because he doesn't have any. Well, any he'd care to show, at least. Most ID was taken from him through his many long years in prison and whiteout cells, and the other ID he has notes that old, bitter history. Not exactly the high class shine he's going for right now.

Kickback nods to Gearshift. "Senator Sigil's handiwork." He murmurs something lowly to her, keeping close. He's watching everyone and everything. Sure, he'll make verbal sh*tposts as he goes, but one need one's facade. Just ask Rung! Or rather don't, he'd doing a good job keeping it together, Kickback is impressed.

Tailgate relents and goes back into his containment for his old ID card. It was freshly minted when he got stuck underground. He stares hard at it for a moment before passing it onto the desk mech and his little beeping gun. "What my crewmate means--" Tailgate looks from Blast Off to the check-in bot. "Is that all of us have an ID given to us by the command of the Lost Light, which is on a sanctioned mission from Cybertron-- Is there any way you can ask your superiors about using these recently issued ones instead?"

Gearshift is relieved when she and Kickback are both allowed to enter. She wouldn't have gone further if the insecticon wasn't, and hopes he'd do the same for her. "What should we do?" She asks him, ready to follow Kickback to the ends of the universe (and given their mission on the Lost Light, technically she is). "Do you think the bars here are any good?" She smirks to him.

"I see." Whisper produces the identification she found without further commentary. It is ancient. It gives her ID as Shockscream of Iacon, and lists her exempt status as an outlier. She stands very, very still, as she proffers it.

The mech goes right back to scanning. Along with Rung's Buh-Beep! Is a little 'ding' as well. He stares for a moment... And then moves on. Kickback's gets a 'ding' too as well as Tailgate's and Whisper's and Lieutenant's. The mech speaks to Blast Off. "I'm sorry, sir! But its regulation. I can't make exceptions and its for security, you see. I'm sure if you take a seat and let me file through everyone else first, we can sort out this mess after-"

"Ahem, Scanner, are you causing some trouble?" The voice comes from the other side of the gate, it's owner a slight mech holding a box tightly and a smile on her face. Her body is covered in glyphs and symbols- some that Whetstone might be well acquainted with- with some circulare glyps marking a spon on her waist, chassis, and (unseen for now) back of her head, all connected by lines. Waving her hand before a scanner on the other side, she steps into the waiting room. "My name is Clockwise, I'm Head of Operations here at C-E! How can I improve your time here at the station?" Behind her, the energon bars go up again.

"Well, yeah, but I've always seen him more as a gun guy than a tool guy" Brainstorm nods. And, you know, the whole claw thing. Claws don't look conveninet for watchmaking. Not that there's anything wrong with claws, but they do lack some dexterity.

During his chatter, however, he does not miss what's going on around him. Some ids - old looking mostly, are let through, while the newer ones are not "Sorry, all my older ids have either been lost or burned. Or desolved. In a tub of cyric acid to be percise. You know no one's used those old ids" he nods at those let through "For a couple million years now, right?" this is directed at both the guard, and the newcommer.

Whirl sticks close to Blast Off as he huffs and puffs at the poor guy who's only doing his job. "What's the big friggin' deal? It's got his name and picture on it, and you've taken all our weapons, what's the security risk exactly!?" Clockwise's sudden appearance draws his attention, sparing the check-in mech. For now. "How about you start with letting people in when they present perfectly good I.Ds?"

Lieutenant stores his ID back into the hole where it shall never see the light of day again. The 'ding' though continues to ring in his processor. Gearshift, Whirl, nor Whetstone had 'dings' after their IDs were scanned. He lingers quietly to see if that was the case for anyone else. It's just curious how that is the case.

Whisper stands still and quiet. She looks remote as the weight of her visored gaze rests on Clockwise. She does not say anything. It is possible to interpret her silence as imperious, but then, it's only a silence. It's possible to interpret it as anything.

Whetstone stands like a declawed cat, annoyed and increasingly nervous, taking up a position behind Tailgate. Mostly because Tailgate seems the most level-headed or at least eloquent. His optics brighten when Clockwise comes along, and he's naturally eying those familiar inscriptions.

Blast Off glances to Tailgate, ego ruffled, but he sighs and lets the smaller mech have a go at this. Apart from a brief look at Brainstorm - He huffs a little, "It's possible to be both." - he again says nothing further (not his business to do so). Then the Combaticon's expression (what's visible of it, at elast) just gets more and more dim as the mech at the counter again refuses his entry. "This is outrageous. I-"

Then Clockwise enters the picture. The shuttleformer's focus diverts to her, his expression that of someone important who expects to be treated far better than he has been. "Yes. Well. You could see to it that guests who have been led here with expectations of a high quality rest and refueling are not turned away with nonsensical red tape. I have presented my ID- a current Cybertronian ID- and am being refused. I expect better service from what would otherwise seem a sophisticated sort of place." He nods to Whirl, lifting his hand to gesture up to the mech. "Exactly!"

"Of course I understand. Security is important." Tailgate will put his old-- problematic-- ID away once the scan goes through on that one. He and Rung are probably the oldest ones here, and he didn't miss the other mech's various cards as he was deciding over them.

Tailgate waves in a more friendly manner to the bot that appears next, and any more politeness is lost when Blast Off goes ahead and explains his issue. He makes it all seem very grand, doesn't he? It's only identification, but he makes it seem like so much more.

Rung's frown deepens as that peculiar ding goes off with his ID but not with many of the others'. Strange... As he puts it away Clockwise appears and Rung turns to look at her, hidden optics scanning her up and down to try and decipher those symbols. She seems to be in charge and personally Rung would agree with Blast Off, it seems rather ridiculous that they are not accepting current identification. For now he remains silent, as the others seem to be jumping to everyone else's defense rather quickly. Rung would like to examine from afar how the mechs here react when confronted.

Scanner looks downright relieved to have Clockwise in the room. Her bright optics rolling over everyone, pausing only briefly on the few the device 'dinged' on. "Ah, I see! We assumed to much about your identification then. Here, let me make an edit..." There's a shift behind her as she steps closer to the desk and a tendril slides forward like a eel slithering through water. The clawed end opens up to allow smaller wiggly tendrils to link up with the console at the desk. Light runs through the tentacle for just a moment. "As soon as I'm finished, you'll all be allowed inside to explore. I suggesst our Fueling Courts- we have a truly decadent selection."

"Very important, yes," she tells Tailgate, a second tentacle sliding from behind her and offering its claws to shake with the little minicon. "Now, while I'm here, is there anything else-"

Clockwise smiles further before it falls slack, a look of awe flashing across her face after sweeping the room with a look once more. She stares at Blast Off and Whirl, moving closer. "Magnificient... The most marvelous individual I've ever seen..." She moves past Blast Off to gaze at Whirl.

Whetstone should recognize the symbols decorating her body, all praising the Guiding Hand with an emphasis on Primus and Adaptus.

Whirl manages to look pleased when Clockwise resolves their problem and allows everyone access to the station. He nudges Blast Off with an elbow. "See? Getting pissy and obnoxious always works." It's then that he notices the odd look on Clockwise's face. Surely she's not talking about him, right? He looks behind him when she speaks of marvelous individuals but there's no one there. "Uh.."

Whetstone is immediately put at ease when Clockwise virtually handwaves the holdup. And she's a godly worshipper! The /right/ gods, at least. As Whirl gets marveled over for some damn reason, Whetstone leans back against the nearest wall, fanning himself with his wings. Nothing to worry about, fam.

Tailgate has never shook hands with a tentacle before. He seems a little bemused but accepts it, beaming up at Clockwise and giving her an even more puzzled look as she moves on-- towards Whirl? He watches curiously, and glances up to Rung, hiding his face with one hand and whispering. "Who does she mean? Whirl?" Wow. That's a first.

Ah. Blast Off finally gets more of the treatment he deserves! He beams up at Whirl. "Indeed!" Then a pause. "Well, I wasn't *pissy*..." Pause. "Or obnoxious!"

After a moment, a slight smugness ghosts across his face as arms cross and he nods to Clockwise. "Thank you. I knew it had to be a misunderstanding. I have been telling the others that this place is *obviously* a fine establishment, but I was certainly starting to doubt even myself." Those tentacles draw his gaze, bringing him pause for a moment- but it's rude to stare, right? And he's a sophisticated mech! So Blast Off looks away.

Then Clockwise calls him magnificent! Blast Off's optic ridges shoot up momentarily, then the more self-assured look returns. "Yes, well..." He glances away, chest puffing up and... wait, she walks PAST him? Blast Off blinks and turns to see her admiring not HIM but his BOYFRIEND. He blinks again, optics flickering in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Well, atleast that's settled, and without anyone getting shot in the process! Although someone probably will, eventually. That's just how Cybertronians, and, specifically, Lost Lighters work. There's a reason Brainstorm still has a job. He'll skip the fuel courts though. There has to be something interesting around here.

It seems that for the locals, that interesting thing happens to be Whirl. Brainstorm watches as Clockwise moves in to examine Whirl, shooting Blast Off a glance himself "Looks like you have competition. Are you just going to take that?"

You will no longer hear messages on channel <StevenUniverse>.

Rung tilts his head as he watches Clockwise. Normally he wouldn't have an issue with someone thinking of whirl as 'magnificent', the poor mech deserves friends and positive attention but... well this is a bit out there. Clearly this is.. well without more evidence he is unsure what this is but the therapist doesn't like it and is clearly becoming more uneasy by the minute. He clears his throat in an effort to get Clockwise's attention, "Ma'am, I do not mean to intrude but will the others be allowed to enter now?" Despite his politeness, his tone is the same one he uses to get peoples attention- usually when he's about to rip into them (which for Rung translated to a guilt tripping talking to worthy of every disappointed parent out there).

Kickback notices all the attention paid to Whirl, which is a good thing, in his estimation. For one, Whirl might actually have to behave. For another - it means fewer people are watching the grasshopper. "Maybe. We'll have to sneak in and find out," Kickback replies to Gearshift, grinning.

The tentacle that had shaken Tailgate's little servo, slides over and up to gently brush along the long side of Whirl's head. Then it drops down, little claws straightening a bit of his armor and then a pat-pat over his spark. "Beautiful..." Clockwise says again, optics shinning... And then she turns away as she finishes up her work with their ideas, other cord disconnecting from the console.

"There, you're all free to go so long as you have relinquished your weapons." She smiles at all of them as the bars all go down. "And so you all know, you are free to have one item from any shop, free of charge. We have been having quite a surplus recently, heh. It's so wonderful to see bright and shiny new faces!" A cord wipes away a spot of dust away from a glyph on her shoulder. Praise be to Primus and his perfections. "Again if you need anything, just let me know! Clockwise, Head of Operations!"

Gearhift grins back, tugging his arm excitedly. "Before we get much further," She whispers. "I'm sure this goes without saying, but I love you too." She finally replies to the feelings that Kickback has made clear to her many times, verbally and non-verbally. For whatever reason, it feels like the perfect time to tell him-right before they run off to make mischeif.

"O-oh," Whirl squeaks out when he feels that tentacle brushing against his helm. This is weird, right? It's not just him? He tenses and holds completely still as the tentacle moves lower, claws touching at his armour and giving the space over his spark a creepy pat. "Uh.." He's at a total loss for words.

When Clockwise turns away, Whirl just stands there, staring off into the distance. That whole interaction was extremely unsettling. He moves in close against Blast Off, silently seeking comfort. "That was weird, right?" he whispers.

One item free of charge! And Lieutenant aims to use it. Normally, he would love to stick around and learn more but perhaps he can grab the tattooed femme later. After Whetstone, who seems to be checking Clockwise out. Not sure why he is or why Rung is using such a tone, but answers later. He has some shopping to do. It's a shame his transformation cog doesn't work or he would be flying around as if it were old Iacon. During such a peaceful but terrible time. Yet, such freedom- even if it was limited.

Whetstone decidedly remains with Tailgate and whoever happens to tag along. His hands settle near his hips, which feel strange without the hilts of blades there, but... what could go wrong. It all seems very safe. And clean. And the ship's nearby, anyway!

Blast Off shoots Brainstorm a look at his comment. He glances from Clockwise and back again to Brainstorm before huffing quietly, "Take what? Whirl isn't going....anywhere...." his voice drops and slows as Clockwise caresses the side of Whirl's head. "EXCUSE ME!" He exclaims again, louder this time, moving in to try and wedge himself between her and Whirl. However, she turns away, so Blast Off is left standing there in front of Whirl, huffing. He himself turns around just as Whirl steps closer. "YES." The shuttleformer's fists clench and unclench, his wing elevons clicking in agitation. "What exactly what that all about, anyway? Just...just..." His own hand reaches up to touch Whirl's large chest, jutting out there at him. "That *was wei-"

He stops mid-word, then blinks again. Looking up at Whirl's not-face, a thought seems to occur to him, and when he speaks again his tone is less indignant- and much quieter. "Well... I - I mean, it's... it's not THAT strange that someone might see how... handsome you are." Somehow, he suddenly feels a little bit like a jerk for getting angry that someone else finally saw the beauty HE sees- and so few others do.

Tailgate can't help but watch Whirl and Clockwise with a bit of apprehension. And with Blast Off right there! Weird...

"Thank you, Clockwise! I hope everything goes without any hiccups. We appreciate the help!" The minibot thanks her with a note of honest cheer, turning to the others and giving an open gesture. "Looks like it's time to do some sightseeing!" Everyone here? Everyone ready? Good. Field Trip is Go!

That is definitely kind of weird. Brainstorm's never been big on personal space himself, but the whole headstroking and wordchoice in praise is getting a little strange. He's seen people talk about weapons that way. Either she's really into empurata or, well...

"Well, atleast this place isn't boring" he remarks. Now then, she said 'free'? Free's good, right? Maybe he'll be able to find something interesting, something that would be difficult to obtain via requisition.

Rung isn't so sure he wants to be going to this station anymore, there are too many factors making him uneasy. But at the same time he doesn't want to leave the others alone, there is no telling what trouble they could get up to. He also doesn't want to leave his friends alone if something does happen. So the therapist will stick close to Tailgate and Lieutenant. He forces a small smile on his face and looks down at the security chief, "Yes, let us go see the scenery." he probably won't be using that free item offer just on principal alone: don't take free things from the creepy person offering them.

Whirl lets his stare linger on Clockwise a bit longer before dropping down to Blast Off. Could that really be all there is to it? "Hmm, I'm pretty sure the word she used was 'magnificent'," he teases, giving Blast Off's aft a playful pinch before guiding the two of them through the entranceway. Maybe if he doesn't think about it, that unsettling feeling will go away.

Whetstone goes home.

Blast Off glances to Brainstorm, not sure if that's a victory or not. Maybe not. He huffs softly in response, a non-comittal acknowledgement, then turns back to Whirl. The rotary gets a huff, too, though it's more bemused. "Yes, she did, didn't she? But she can keep her hands... er, tentacles... to herself from now on. *I* am the lucky person who gets to hold your claws." His hand starts reaching down to hold Whirl's claw, but instead he finds his aft pinched! The shuttleformer sputters and moves quickly ahead, cheeks turning slightly red as circuits blush on the surface. PLS WHIRL not in front of people. Then he stops, turns, and grabs that claw after all. With a tug, he walks through the entranceway together- hand in claw. Ms. Touchy-feely Tentacles can stay away, Whirlybird belongs with HIM!

Clockwise waves to them with a tentacle. "Enjoy yourselves!" she calls to the Lost Lighters. They'll find everyone friendly and affiable. A true delight, really. She hands the package off to the tentacles and takes a message. "Patient acting up? Ah, I'll be right there, I just have a delivery to make." With a polite nod to Scanner, she walks back into the station. And the shields outside enclose the space station until the next round of visitors.

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