Dealt a Dead Hand

[Scrapper]

Day 22. Open.


There was nary a murmur in the busy streets of Pz'Zazz as a a frail, tall, frog-like humanoid darted through the crowds, panting as he ran. He wore a long gray business suit and fedora and carried a large brown bag made of a cloth-like material over his right shoulder. His eyes darted around from place to place as well. The frog was looking for someone....but for what reason? After about twenty or so minutes of searching, the amphibian looked as if he were about to give up. He skulked over to a nearby building, turned around to lean his back against it, and sank down. Just as he began to put his face in his webbed hands, he happened to look up. Seeing a large green and purple robot with a bizarre insignia on his chestplate caused the frog's eyes to light up with hope. Standing up and hopping over to stand in front of the metal man, the frog happily tossed his bag to the bot, who caught it, only to give the frog a confused stare.


"Uh," the green and purple robot began.


"The bag has everything you'll need!" the frog croaked, tossing his fedora and business suit to the robot. "Good luck, you'll need it! You might want to bring a couple of friends with you, just in case! Either way, I'm sure you'll come out on top!"


"Uh..." the robot started, only to be confused further as the frog hopped away leaping for joy in the air. The robot (Scrapper, of course) only could shrug now at the odd sight. Now glancing over to the bag he now held in his hand, Scrapper grew curious. What was in that bag.


"Eh, couldn't hurt ta look, right?" Scrapper asked, reaching his hand into the bag. The first things he felt were flat, thin, and plastic-like. Drawing his hand out of the bag, Scrapper would discover that the plastic objects were, in fact, cards emblazoned with golden lettering.


"Salamanderelli Casino pass," Scrapper read from the golden text on the card. "You can win big, so long as Fortune is on your side." Scrapper looked curiously at the card. It was pretty weird how the frog just happened to hand him some pass to the casino, but....He'd never really been to a Casino before. Who knows, it could be fun. Looking at the bag once more, Scrapper placed the suit and fedora into it and swung it over his shoulder, deciding to check out it's other contents once he made it to the casino.

[Ravage (ROTF)]

Mrrrrr.

Ravage paces slowly down the alley. He knows this smell. It was at the church disaster.

Curiosity has yet to kill this cat. He pads out of the alley, following the scent trail....

[Scrapper]

"Huh, looks like dis place ain't too far!" Scrapper said. "Never been to no fancy casino joint before. Hey, maybe they got fresh oil on tap," Scrapper mused, using a bit of wishful thinking. "Sure was nice 'o dat froggy guy ta give me a free ticket. Wonder why he'd give it up, though."

Scrapper continued to walk forward, looking at the address written on the ticket and not realizing he was being followed. Looking up, he'd see a couple neon lit signs in the distance, in the shape of arrows, all pointing towards his destination. "Salamanderelli Casino! Just up ahead!"

[Breakaway]

Breakaway is back planetside again, after being holed up on the boat pulling double shifts for entirely too long. Now he's in the upper atmosphere, high above normal hover-traffic, but well below shuttles. And he has all the proper permits this time. He doesn't want to get in trouble. Again. Sweet lady Mach I, have you missed him? Oh, and you're invited Machs II and III? Please, girls, there's plenty to go around!

Nearing his destination, the jetformer decelerates and descends, putting on his airbrakes and slowing to just over his stall speed as he converts to robot mode. Because he really does not want to piss off the brass again (so soon). This particular city is supposed to have a pretty decent aviation museum and he wants to see it, so here he is. That flat rooftop looks like a good landing site.

Wait, what's that? Color scheme sticks out like a sore thumb. He zooms in his sniper's optics. It's Hook! Or Long Haul. No, big lower jaw. Thaaaat's . . . Scrapper, right? Then there's movement out of the corner of his optic. He doesn't need any help recognizing that spiky silhouette. He descends on his jet, hopping from the rooftop to land next to Scrapper and moving to give the Constructibot a friendly punch on the arm.

"If it isn't my good buddy Scrapper!" He's going to be so embarrassed if this is Long Haul. "What's shaking? I'm just in town volunteering at the local animal shelter. Lots of feral strays around here. I've been neutering 'em," he says, maybe a bit too loudly.

[Ravage (ROTF)]

Pausing in his stride, Ravage looks up as the bot he is trailing is joined by a familair scent. Very familiar. Autobot fliers are rare in his reality. He makes it his business to know them.

Mrrrrr

Talk of neutering doesn't scare the hellcat. He isn't really male or female, anyway. Just Ravage.

He leaps up to a balcony. If he is going to follow them into the casino, he can't really walk through the front doors....

Mrrr

Though he does have police clearance.

[Scrapper]

Scrapper looks up as Breakaway alighted down next to him. He'd seen the bot before on the Event Horizon, but he didn't quite remember having too many conversations with the guy. Nevertheless, he seemed friendly enough though Scrapper didn't quite understand why Breakaway felt the need to discuss his volunteer work with him.

"Uh, sure," Scrapper shrugs. "I'll letcha know if I see any runnin' around, Breakaway. I gotta make my way towards Salamanderelli Casino. Some weirdo was nice enough to give me his casino pass. Seems like a real fancy joint too! Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll hit it big, huh?"

[Breakaway]

"Casino, huh? Sounds like fun. Mind if I join you?" Breakaway asks. He has yet to actually hit any of the casinos on Pz-Zazz.

[Ravage (ROTF)]

OOC: I can only do so many 'Ravage quietly follows' posts. So Consider the hellcat skippable until you guys get into the casino proper please.

[Scrapper]

"Eh, sure!" Scrapper nodded, walking forward towards a gigantic neon arrow that pointed down to a large doorway. "Da more, da merrier, right?" Walking into the doorway, the two Autobots were greeted by a robot of equal size.

The robot was obviously not Cybertronian with it's bucket-like head, red visor ice, and a body that looked as if it was made from spare parts in the scrap yard. It lacked legs, instead, hovering in the air with a jet fueled engine at it's bottom. It's hide was sloppily painted black and white, similar to a butler's uniform. If they looked around they'd notice there were more floating around the casino, presumably acting as guards.

"Passes please," the bucket-bot asked, in a an accent similar to Scrapper's own.

Scrapper handed the robot his pass, which the robot briefly scanned with it's visor, making a beeping noise to confirm it. "Looks like your clear," the bucket-bot stated, It then turned to Breakaway and asked, "Pass?"

Scrapper thought for a moment, before saying, "Hmm, I actually tink I saw some more in here." He then reached his hands into the bag, drawing out another casino pass. The robot scanned it, again making the beeping noise.

"Huh," the robot stated. "Your pass card id's say your two of da famous Amphibioso triplets dat often come by dis joint. S'funny," the robot said his visor narrowing threateningly. " Now me personally, I ain't never seen none 'o triplets before, but you two bruddas don't look much alike ta me. Maybe I outta call my buddy CG-UNIT 75. He says he greets you 'triplets' all da time."


"Heh, heh," Scrapper laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "See, dere's dis really funny story about dat..." Scrapper chuckled, nervously glancing to Breakaway. "Right...?"

[Breakaway]

Breakaway walks beside Scrapper into the casino, keeping an eye out for any cycloptic felines along the way.

When the robot bouncer questions his identity, Breakaway plays the part of an offended minor celebrity. "How dare you take that tone with us! We're the Amphibioso brothers! And unless you're intimately familiar with every sentient species in the galaxy, I suggest you not try and judge who does and does not have a family resemblance. Look, we both have the Amphibioso birthmark!" he insists, pointing to his own Autobrand and then to Scrapper's much more elaborate chest sigil. "And don't even think about asking why it's not in the same place on both of us or I will have words with your manager!"

[Scrapper]

The robot visor opened widely. It was true...They DID both have the same birthmark. And really, who was he, CG-UNIT 43, to question that? Besides, if they really were the Amphibioso Brothers and he was giving them a hard time...well he might as well just shut himself down and save his boss the trouble.

"Er, my bad sirs!" the bucket-bot apologized, a bit of smoke emitting out of it's cerebral circuits out of all that overthinking. "Uh, um, dere's a bar to your left if your tirsty...or even drink," the bot added, noticing Breakaway's lack of a mouth. "And da casino is on da bottom floor if ya wanna gamble. And knowin' you twos' reputation, I know ya will."

"Dis bar," Scrapper started. "It serves oil, right?"

"Of course, sir!" the bucketbot said, trying it's best to yawn. "Different textures, grades, and everting!"


"Yeah, sounds good," Scrapper nodded, smiling to himself, before patting Brekaway on the shoulder. "Yo, Breaky, Imma head ovah to da bar for a bit. I'll, uh, hit da gamblin' floor later."

[Ravage (ROTF)]

Ravage slinks around and finds one of the worker entrances for the casino. The guard on duty eyes the cat warily, even after a panel on Ravage's shoulder slides back to reveal his K-9 unit ID.

"Shouldn't you be with a handler?" he asks, not opening the door.

The cat sniffs the air, then gives the guard a toothy approximation of a grin.

//Shouldn't you not smell like Blight?// he says, breaking into the casino's security line. The words are not smooth, but laborious. It is so hard for him to speak like a person.

The guard blanches, then steps aside.

Ravage slips through the door.

still skippable.

[Breakaway]

"Darn right!" says Breakaway, as huffily as he can manage, striding into the building the way he imagines an Amphibioso brother might.

"A drink sounds good," Breakaway agrees, following Scrapper to the bar and seating himself on a barstool. "Hey barkeep, you know how to mix a Skywarp Delight?" he asks, rattling off a mixture of fuels and additives that'll evaporate almost as soon as it touches the air. "Put it on the Amphibioso brothers's tab."

[Scrapper]

"Eh, just gimme some oil, pal," Scrapper adds, happily. "An put dat on da Amphibiosos bruddas tab too!"

The barkeep, upon hearing the Amphibioso name being thrown around by these two could only assume that they were the real deal. Nodding rapidly, he began to get them their drinks.

The robot at the front gate looked across the bar, looking as nervous as he could with his limited facial expressions as another guard guard approached him.

"Yo," the other guard greeted. "I heard some talk dat da Amphibioso bruddas were showin' deir slimy mugs here again."


"UNIT-75?" the front guard, UNIT-43, questioned. "Waddya talkin' 'bout? I tought da amphibioso bruddas was welcome here."


"Not no more, dey ain't," UNIT-75 trembled. "Dey crossed da boss, big time. We're unda orders ta bring dem to him if dey show up again."


"Why dose no good mooks," UNIT-43 growled. "Dey're over there," he said, pointing across to the bar. "Dose two bots over dere!"


UNIT-75 squinted his visor eye over to the bar, before glancing at his brother unit, and swiftly smacking him upside the head. "Whaddya talkin' about ya numskull? Dose ain't da Amphibioso bruddas!"

"...What?" UNIT-43 asked. "But, dey had da Amphibioso bruddas passcards, unless...dey tricked me."


"Hmm..." UNIT-75 mumbled. "Sumthin' ain't right about dis. I'm alertin' all casino guards ta go inta combat mode. Let's take dese Amphibioso wannabees to da boss. He'll know what ta do."

At that moment, the majority of the casino guards converted their right arms into a sort of laser tommy gun and proceeded to head towards the bar area. Looking over his shoulder at the clanking sound the crude robots made, Scrapper grew a long face.

"Hey, Breaky," he started. "Dis, uh, may be just me, but are dose guards headed our way?"

[Breakaway]

Breakaway looks around when Scrapper alerts him to the guard situation. "Looks like it," he says with a sigh, cracking his knuckles. Why can't he ever get his drink before the fight? This always happens. At least there's no sign of Ravage to complicate things.

The jetformer spins around his barstool so he's facing the room, resting his elbows casually behind him on the bar.