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| - You can use the box below to create new pages for this mini-wiki. preload=Red Tape/preload editintro=Red Tape/editintro width=25 Welcome to the Red Tape wiki/wikia. This is a place to share your frustrations dealing with bureaucrazy... opps I mean bureaucracy of government departments, bank loans, insurance claims, etc. You get the picture. More importantly it is hoped that people caught in the same dilemma in future will know what to prepare and what to expect to make the situation smoother. This wiki was inspired (more like crashed into existence) by my encounter with an automobile accident outside my home state. The hassle of making a police report, insurance claims, going to road transport department would definitely be reduced if I know in advance what is required. So read on, vent it out, but more importantly share the experience so others can cut through the red tape faster.
- After accepting the quest going down to the docks and going around the mountain will get to Guardsman Pah's location without aggro'ing anything except maybe some Mantids in the area, if you have the quest Seek out Brother Tosai active, you can go up and run to Guardsman Pah by running past all the non-hostile Am Fah. Alternatively, if you already have Nahpui Quarter available, map travel to there as Pah is close by.
- "Red Tape" is the nineteenth episode of Miami Vice's third season. The episode premiered on March 13, 1987 and repeated on December 11, 1987.
- Red Tape is a cog move that can be performed by Two-Faces, Bloodsuckers, and Ambulance Chasers.
- Synopsis: The Lead Administrator of Planet 501.A submits a request form for The Matrix, luring the Transformers to his world! A planet completely covered over by a vast cityscape. From orbit, the world looks incredibly drab, grey, and dull, as if it is the most boring place in the galaxy. After descending onto the planet, your fears are justified--this place is quite boring. It's just a mass of poorly maintained buildings stretching out everywhere under a colorless sky. The grey-skinned, 20-foot tall inhabitants are almost all in some sort of line to somewhere. The inhabitants show little enthusiasm or motivation, and slowly shuffle along in their lines. Is this place Hell? Kup is currently standing on the command deck of the Orion Pax, right next to the big viewscreen. Displayed upon it is the world that the Autobots have dragged themselves over to visit... Planet 501.A. "Planet 501.A. The Welfare Planet. A place of bureaucracy and despair. Tread carefully here, everyone. I dunno if these guys really got the Matrix but we must check it out." Fireflight is sitting at the comm unit, although his attention was not on his blinking console, but at a padd-book in his hands, completely enveloped in whatever he was reading at the time, not saying a word to Kup's warning. Red Alert is back on the sensor station, although he's been switching around to a different station pretty much every time he takes a watch up here. Every now and again he looks nervously at that comm station that Fireflight is NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO. For himself, he's paying as much attention to Fireflight's station as his own. He looks up at Kup and nods. "Understood, sir." From Outside: Catechism has arrived. From Outside: Catechism arrives from Autobot Flagship . Silverbolt gets up to walk over and look over Fireflight's shoulder. "Sounds like your average Terran air traffic control center." Or Switzerland, perhaps, but either out of consideration for Fireflight or occupation with the flashing signal on the wall, Silverbolt leaves that bit out. Fireflight blinks a few times, still in his own little world. Or rather, Shakespeare's world. Then he sits up with a jerk, realizing who was behind him and he turns a burning faceplate towards his work "ahhm... They are saying we're cleared for landing in bay 32-B." Kup turns and points at Silverbolt. "Alright, Silverbolt take the ship into High Orbit. We'll go the rest of the way in a shuttle." Now, if this was a video game, Silverbolt might get a tutorial message explaining, "TYPE: +DO ENTER PLANET 501.A" Kup sighs. "Took 'em frickin' forever to get us clearance. Good thing I asked in advance..." Marissa Faireborn has arrived. Red Alert hesitates. He looks up at Kup. "Erm... Kup. You did submit their customs declaration with everything else, didn't you?" Silverbolt conscientiously checks the datafeeds to be sure of exactly what orbit the Autobots have been cleared for. It wouldn't do for them to make a wrong move and, if Kup's talk is anything to go by, having to wait kilocycles if they even get allowed back near the planter at all. "What were we supposed to delcare?" Silverbolt looks back, fingers halted from keying in the orbit sequence. "Nothing," Red Alert answers, glancing back at Silverbolt. "The correct answer on any customs form is 'nothing.' And then you let me know what it is, exactly, you aren't declaring so I can be ready to deal with any slip ups." Kup growls. "I submitted all the damn forms they need. Don't bring anything with you, though, other than stuff you got in subspace. It'll take an age for it to go through inspections and all that slag." Keeper walks in with a datapad, optics intent upon the screen and yet bumping into nothing and nobody. "This world is interesting... so many laws, rules, forms and proceedures." He's not reviewing them all is he? He's awake, not sleepwalking isn't he? Kup smirks at Red Alert. "Yer a good bot to have on this mission, Red." As Keeper walks in, Kup raises a brow and warns. "Nah, this is the most boring planet you'll ever run into. Trust me. But anyway, you guys go ahead and take a search party down there. I'm sure you'll be fine without me, but lemme know if you hit a snag." Fireflight looks over ot the others, closing his book. He almost puts it into his storage compartment, then carefully sets it on the console for now - not on any keys of course. "I'll stop by my temporary quarters to empty everythign then." he states, glancing to keeper curiously. Silverbolt looks at Fireflight a moment, looking relieved when Fireflight puts down the datapad instead of trying to take it along. The larger Aerialbot then returns his attention to the console and the procedures for entering orbit. Red Alert glances sideways up at Kup. Is he implying that Red Alert's boring? Then he shakes his head and puts on a slight smile, choosing to take the comment as a compliment. "All right, sir. We'll, uhm, see what we can dig up." Red Alert heads towards the corridor. A planet of paperwork. Sounds like a global-sized fire-hazard waiting to happen. The doors to the Command Deck slide open and a relatively small humanoid figure heads in. No, don't get your hopes up; it isn't Eject. Marissa Faireborn is wearing an EDC offworld utility uniform which stresses practicality over looking good. It isn't combat armour, per se, but it can double as a flight suit in a pinch. "Hi ho, everyone," the Colonel says, greeting the Autobots. Marissa offers a special nod to Kup, who she knows has had a rough time of late. Keeper puts his datapad away when the camera isn't on him and gazes upon his superiors. "Searching for the Matrix... we should have Type-4 Pulse Rifles for this." He shakes his head, but rules are rules. and orders are orders. Keeper turns and gives the EDC officer a salutory bow of the head. Red Alert inclines his head towards Marissa as he walks past her. "Good evening, Commander." Kup nods back to Marissa. "Good to see ya, lass. Yer always welcome to help us out with this search. Keeper, violence shouldn't be necessary on this planet. Well, unless the Decepticons show. Hope they don't. Anyway, this is your mission. The Lead Administrator of this world apparently filled out a form requestin' the Matrix. Yer to track 'im down and find out if it's the real thing or not. It might not be as easy as it sounds, though. Good luck." Red Alert pauses, and looks back at Kup. "Do we have this lead administrator's name? Location?" Kup dryly replies, "I asked for that information. Was told I'd have to wait behind 103,421 other guys to obtain that info." Fireflight blinks a little and stares at Kup "... Uhm, wow." he states simply, standing from his seat now as it seems the others are ready to go. "So how many different lines do we have to wait in?" Silverbolt looks around as if to see if they brought enough people for everyone to wait in a different line to get through this quicker. Marissa Faireborn gives a quick scan of the Autobots. Concorde (impractical). Phantom (impractical). Walking tank (impractical but still linda cool). Ancient Cybertronian truck (possible). Lamborghini Countach with fire chief markings on it (boo-yeah, we have ourselves a winner). Having picked out her designated ride for this mission, Marissa smiles up at Red Alert. "Evening, Red." Walking past the security chief, Marissa joins in with the briefing that Kup is delivering. "Tsk, sounds like a typical day in my life filling out requisition forms. Should be a piece of cake for us, Kup." Woe for Marissa, for this overconfidence may come back to haunt her. Red Alert covers his face with his right hand. Then he peeks over it and looks around the room before muttering, "Aaaaaand we've got no hackers with us." Then he shakes his head and once more heads for the corridor. "I suppose we should just get started..." he mutters, trying to fight down the suspicion that Kup is sending him on this mission because Kup intends to BORE Red Alert to death. Planet 501. A. Voted the Most Boring Place in the Galaxy by Naxim Galactic Magazine. A place where the government runs everything--badly--and its people are completely dependent upon their overseers for their livelihood. The perfect place for mayhem by... "Weee!" cries a red, white, and blue Cassetticon as he rides on the back of one of the inhabitants. The alien does not appear to notice the tape on his back, and just continues shuffling along in his line. "This planet is super fun... IN AMERICA!" cries Americon. Ecto has arrived. Marissa Faireborn arrives from Autobot Flagship . Marissa Faireborn has arrived. Red Alert arrives from Autobot Flagship . Red Alert has arrived. Silverbolt arrives from Autobot Flagship . Silverbolt has arrived. Fireflight arrives from Autobot Flagship . Fireflight has arrived. Keeper arrives from Autobot Flagship . Keeper has arrived. Fireflight hums a little and murmers to Silverbolt "At least its not the Vogonsphere." F-35B Lightning II is actually here on this alien world on her own power. It's rather dizzying, heady feeling. However, the arrival of the Autobot flagship quickly brings her back down to reality from her high cloud. That is... an extremely big ship. Looks like The Absolution just got a dancing partner. Sure, she heard the hype, but Straxus... this thing is even more than the hype said. She notes, "Americon, you may need to curtail your fun and games. We have company." Various components of the Ecto-1 slide out of the way or are tucked out of sight as Ecto transforms into his robot mode. Mortex is driving alongside the enormous alien in hearse mode; the black-white-and-red Necrocon's wheels come to a skidding stop, and he unfolds into his cloaked, skeletal form, lifting off into the air to follow behind Americon's giant grey monster, cloak spread wide like faux metal wings. The skeletal machine's optics, sunken deep into his skull, gleam with a malevolent red light as he surveys the flagship's landing. This thing was power, yes...great power. The Autobots' technology must've taken a skip up. He was so looking forward to harvesting it. The hearse rises, unfolding into a cloak wrapped around a skeleton-like robot with malevolent glowing red optics. Marissa Faireborn steps out onto Planet 501.A. At first she thought this was just a designation and that there would be a real name in the Autobot archives, but strangely there was nothing. She looks up at the sky. Dull. Careful to avoid getting stepped on by the grossly oversized inhabaitants (Marissa has, in her heart, slowly come to realize that it is humans who are small rather than Transformers who are huge), the Colonel steps up to a booth labeled Information. "Hey there, could I get a map of the place?" The grey-skinned alien sloooowly shuffles pamphlets and brochures around on the booth before wordlessly handing the Colonel an appropriately sized 8 1/2 x 11 inch piece of paper. Marissa nods at the alien. "Thanks." Then she reads the title: Form 1234894567242348435b - Requisition For Map Acquisition For Carbon-Based Bipedal Offworld Aliens Ten Feet Or Smaller Of Undetermined Gender. "...wait, what?" Marissa stammers. Silverbolt gets a good look around as everyone heads out the airlock. "The Vogonsphere doesn't have queues," he replies to Fireflight, optics dimming slightly with processors diverted to the comm channel traffic. Fireflight blinks "Yes it did." he states back, following closely behind Silverbolt to avoid getting separated. Then he looks about "... Where do we start?" he scratches the back of his neck. "I dont even know which line is for which." Ecto had actually arrived long before either the Autobots or Decepticons has...he often does that, but no one knows why, and no one knows how. Despite this lack of knowledge, however, he is here wandering the streets waving his homebuilt PKE meter around. "Initial signs looked favorable...numerous radical power signatures in upper and lower atmospheres...although that couldn've just been me landing! Ha!" He turns around as the graph on his meter suddenly spikes as the Autobot flagship makes it's descent but somehow fails to look up and see it. "Wow! This could be what I've been waiting for!" He tucks away the device and, hurridly transforming, drives off at high speed toward the landing point. With a smooth reassembling of sides, back hatch, and roof and a nearly magical apperance of the wheels Ecto transforms into his brilliantly lit Ecto-1 mode. Cover your ears: he's gonna make some noise. Americon frowns. "Awww. Well, see you later, horsie," he says, hopping off of the alien, who doesn't say anything. Squinting up in the sky, Americon just shrugs at the Autobot ship looming far overhead. "I dunno. It looks kinda small!" And it would, from this distance, of course. The streets of the planet are pretty congested with slow-moving aliens in various lines. Navigating this area may be easier if you are either 1) small, or 2) very impolite. Fireflight gets an idea "Did you want me to scout out from above Silverbolt? See if I can see if there's signs at the top of the lines?" he offers. Red Alert follows Marissa out and looks around the locality, optics wide and worried. He shakes his head. "The words 'needle' and 'haystack' occur, and are immediately rejected as insufficient," he sighs. Then he studies the streets, trying to get an idea which direction would lead to the more important buildings. The lead administrator would be there, right?" Marissa Faireborn draws out a pen from one of the uniform's many pouches (imagine Rob Liefield drew the thing) and looks the requisition form over. She flips through the pages. "...this thing is 12 pages long..." she says, abandoning her attempt to fill it out before even starting. "Don't you have anything quicker?" she asks the alien behind the Information Booth, already growing worried. The alien hands her another form. Form 87354617654365d - Complaint Filing For Carbon-Based Bipedal Offworld Alins Ten Feet Or Smaller Of Undetermiend Gender. "Oh f--- you," Marissa tells the alien. She looks over at Red Alert. "This is going to be way harder than I thought..." Keeper watches his landing party;s backs, turning full circle at regular intervals. He gives his natural grimacing glare to the indigenous life forms as they pass near, perhaps to make sure they pass no nearer and give somewhat of a berth. Red Alert shrugs at Marissa. "I've got a sirin, and even if they don't use them here, I imagine they'll figure out quickly it means 'move out of the way.' But I need /some/ kind of starting point." Keeper looks to the booth attendent and tyhen glances into the booth, looking for a time piece... It may be easy to move through the crowd if you are 1)small or 2) very impolite but there is a third option...having a set of very loud sirens. This Ecto has and, as a consequence, the crowd eagerly parts to let through as he blazes out of an alleyway and careens onto the roadway. He corrects himself, fishtalining slightly, before he guns his engine and again makes his way toward the landing zone speculating all the way. "It could be ghosts...or aliens...or alien ghosts! Woohoo!" It's not before long that aerial balloons posted randomly throughout the skies begin blaring out, "You have violated aerial speed limits. Please report to Police Precinct 488-233B for your ticket and Rehabilitational Life Lesson." This is apparently directed at Catechism. Dee-Kal arrives from Autobot Flagship . Dee-Kal has arrived. "You might see some signs. At least as likely, you'd see someone ready to hand you a stack of forms to fill out just to determine exactly what they do to people who aren't in the sector of airspace that was reserved for them last megacycle." As if to prove Silverbolt's point, the aerial speakers cut in. "Of course, if you *want* a 'Rehabilitational Life Lesson..." Marissa Faireborn hears the blaring of the balloons high above, though it's faint. "You'll probably just end up violating some kind of no siren law," she replies to Red Alert. "I should have brought some lawyers with me, and I /never/ thought I'd say that." The Colonel looks around a bit, though from her height there's not much to see. "So far so good, though," she says as Ecto parts the crowd. She holds up two fingers and crosses them for good luck. Keeper leans down to Marissa. "If this one goes out to lunch, perhaps advancing his clock time would quicken his departure, and leave his booth unattended for information gathering. Fireflight speaks into his radio a little, then his optics widen a little at Silverbolt "... No, probably not." he states in a meek voice, shifting from foot to foot now. "I could just walk around and see what I can see from the ground. You know, go up near the front of a line, read the sign, then move back again." Marissa Faireborn scratches her chin at Keeper's idea. "Yeah... yeah, ok. It's worth a shot. Here, I'll distract him and you fix his clock," she suggests. The Colonel addresses the alien behind the booth again. "Hi there, yes, I'm a small carbon-based lifeform, etc etc, and I was wondering if you could let me know if there's any contract laws here I should know about?" That'll keep him busy, she figures. Red Alert covers both ears at the racket the Ecto is kicking up and the balloons reacting to Catechism... wait... Catechism?! Red stares up, peering into the sky at the overhead jet. Then he hears something else, and it confirms suspicions. Speakers lined up through the streets declare, "Attention, you are not authorized to operate a siren. Only duly recognized law enforcement and emergency response personnel are authorized to use sirens. Please report to Police Station BB201 for your ticket and Rehabilitational Life Lesson." The crow, upon hearing that Ecto's siren is not authorized, amazingly begins to disregard it and close ranks. What is with these people? Americon's robot legs pop out metallic feather-like objects as they and his lower torso split apart, also revealing an eagle head. The arms and robot head join the main body, and his guns convert into tail feathers and rocket launchers. Americon is now a bald eagle! Ecto comes to a sudden halt in the middle of the road as the crowd begins to close in upon him, his siren still flashing and blaring, before he honks his horn at the crowd. "Hey, you there, you all with the self preservation problem! You're getting in the way of scentific truth!" F-35B Lightning II hears that the air itself is not safe. However, she's a Decepticon - she's not about to report for some stupid ticket! She also notes that Americon has no depth perception and feels rather perturbed. The jet, instead, watches the Autobots, trying to figure out why so very many Autobots would haul out, with such a big ship hovering overhead. What is on this planet that is of worth? Surely not boring forms? Mortex soars a bit higher, attempting to get a better view of this land of welfare and control. The psychotic Necrocon's permanent skeletal grin gleams in the dim light, his eyes locking on to the Junkion. He loved Junkions. Mentally deranged, but completely immortal, Junkions were right up his alley; the long, bony-looking white fingers curl into a fist at the thought of slicing up a Junkion's internals. Yes, the Junk machine was something he had an interest in, and judging by his sirens, he felt himself some sort of law enforcement. Mortex's fingers extend once more, contemplating what type of hologram he could wield to lead the Junkion astray. The thing's side has some sort of...-entity-...with a universal 'no' sign...hmm, perhaps that will work. Hands moving like an orchestrator, the Necrocon's implanted optics blaze high above the greying cityscape. And lo and behold...the ghost, on the side of the Ghostbuster's van, appears before Ecto, hovering silently and transparently, but with a fair amount of menace in its stare. Well, as menacing as a marshmellow-looking ghost -can- look, anyway. Robotic Bald Eagle declares, "I am going to stretch my wings a bit! Later, guys!" He flies over the streets, gleefully disregarding warnings that he is an unauthorized avian, until finally... "Oh, hell! Guys, guys! Check it out! An information booth! We can just ask them where the matrix is!" So, he flies directly at the information booth, finally landing in an overflowing waste bin and knocking it over. As speakers declare that this is a violation of littering laws, the person at the booth hands Marissa Fairborne a handy guide on contract laws written in Engrish. No, not English. Engrish. Keeper strolls around to the back of the booth and with a well practiced hand, unlatches it gently and reaches an arm inside, peeking through the gap. Ge lifts the clock off the wall and after a brief consultation of his datapad, he turns the clock forward to a few minutes past the beginning of the lunch hour. He slips the clock back in through the gap and carefully hooks it back to the wall, pulls his arm out, and closes the door gently relatching it. He waits on the side of it where the open door would block view of him. Marissa Faireborn snaps her fingers at the anti-siren declaration, letting everyone know that she totally called it. Marissa gratefully takes the guide on contract laws. It looks more like a phone book than a guide book. "Wait, I don't understand what is meant on line 7913," she says without bothering to actually open the guide. "Could you maybe explain it to me?" Go go Keeper, she silently cheers him on. Dee-Kal h'ms. Keeper carefully gets the job done thanks to Marissa's persistence of questioning and then shortranges Marissa, <> Ecto leaps into action as the ghostly figute appears beside him, again hurridly transforming, before he pulls out his PKE meter again and starts to scan it all over the marshmellowy figure. "Hmm...certainly indicative of translucent coproreal mechanics...but...there's a irregularity that I can't discern. It's here and not here, like it sould be, but not in the right way." Fireflight frowns uncertainly. Then looks over at the Guide. He perks upa little and straightens his back, stepping up next to the guide "Hi! " he smiles "I'd like to get a form for Flight Permit A-38 Subcategory Arr, for a red and white robot over the height of twenty feet, but under fifty feet." Various components of the Ecto-1 slide out of the way or are tucked out of sight as Ecto transforms into his robot mode. Mortex flicks his wrist idly, the skeletal Decepticon's joints swinging silently. The ghost's hologram starts passing through the grey aliens, heading...towards what appeared to be a guide station. Various laws about the ghost's motions being illegal and requiring Afterlife Rehabilitative Classes (or something to that effect; Mortex really wasn't paying attention) shriek from the numerous stands and speakers as the ghost floats through the wall of the information booth, probably past (or between) Marissa Faireborn and the grey alien she's distracting before disippating due to lack of contact with its creator. If anyone were looking up to see the skeleton machine's skull face, one might swear that, despite the lack of anything like lips, the grin just widened. The booth clerk leans forward a bit, pointing at the line. "It states that an individual must first spin in place five times before acknowledging a hail from a merchant vessel, but only on Glomsday, and only after 11OO hours but before 1900 hours." Then, as Fireflight makes his request, he says, "One moment, sir." He types something into this computer console, then, a few minutes later, a capsule pops in a nearby pneumatic tube. He pops it open, and hands over the enclosed forms to him. Yes, it's Flight Permit A-38, Subcategory R, for a red and white robot over the height of twenty feet, but under fifty feet. What the hell. Despite the supposed dullness of the planet, Red Alert is currently nigh-on overwhelmed with sensory input. Thus, it takes a bit more effort than normal to sort through everything, and his reactions to the newly arriving cassette are slower than one would expect. Eventually, however, he steps around the information booth to the trash can that Americon had landed in and kneels. He doesn't draw his weapon... but he's always got a rocket on one shoulder. "All right, Decepticon," he asks, tone low and strained. "/What/ do you know?" Marissa Faireborn gives no visual indication to the received transmission via her earpiece, but instead waits for the alien to finish whatever he's saying (Marissa isn't listening). "Uh huh. Uh huh. Uh huh. Oh neat. Uh huh. Uh huh. Oh hey, do you have the time?" It pains Colonel Faireborn, slayer of stupid people, to pretend to be all naive and helpless, but drastic times call for drastic measures. Dee-Kal h'ms. Fireflight blinks a moment at the form and glances it over, before his smile returns "Wow. Thanks! Now that's service! " a pause "I also need a few others actually. Request form for a meeting with Breeblebrox concerning the release of a young humannoid woman under the height of ten feet, and the appropriate writ-requests for said release." he tries now. F-35B Lightning II continues to flout any and all reguulations demanded of her as she watches the Autobots fromt eh sky, inviting whatever sort of consequences might fall on her head as a result. The Autobots are... filling out forms, for the most part. Straxus, this is seriously boring! It is as if this planet spread boring to all it touches. Dee-Kal sits on the wing of the Orion and watches the world go by. Then stands up, jumps neatly off the wing as if diving, and executes a few spins and turns before landing neatly on her feet. A definite 7.8 if ever there were one. What to do, now? H'm. Robotic Bald Eagle pokes a birdy head out of the waste bin, peering at Red Alert. "What do I know? Everyone says I don't know anything, so that must be what I know, you know? But do not even think of attacking, for I am safe inside my fortress of detritus! Mwahahaha!" Americon ducks back inside the trash bin, and there's more than enough crumpled up papers and other things to hide him inside there. Or off the shuttle wing. Whichever is the most appropriate for this TP. Ecto looks up suddenly as the ghost begins to move away, starting to push himself through the jammed together body politic, as new messages come into being saying that he has now broken the Politeness Protocool and must submit himself for a three cycle Civic Cultures Curriculum. He also does not pay any attention as he lets his PKE meter let him trail the energy signature of the ghostly shape before it vanishes through the wwall and he, clearly, does not. "Ow!" Balloon-mounted speakers declare to Catechism, "A police fighter squadron is currently being scrambled to your present location. Please remain where you are and do not evade or launch chaff upon their arrival." Mortex gives a dark chuckle at Ecto's antics. Oh yes, Junkions were -so- very wonderful. If only... He slides his fingers down, the ghost hologram reappearing to make a face at Ecto before popping back through the walls. But the Necrocon looks up at the balloon-speakers. If he could frown, he would - that meant they would quickly discover his presence. That could not be allowed. Calmly, the Necrocon's cloak closes, and he plummets (controlledly) to land behind Red Alert, knees bending as he meets the ground. He stands, drawing up to his full height. "Boo." Meanwhile, the guide notices that it is indeed lunch time, and he stands up. "It is time for lunch, madame," he drones. "Sir," he continues, addressing Fireflight. "Please consult that gentleman over there for any requests to release fictional characters from fictional prisons." He gestures at another booth, and shuffles off slowly to get in line for the cafeteria. He'll get to eat eventually. Fireflightblinks and stares at the Guide Keeper makes sure, should the attendent have turned the lock inside the door before leaving, he keeps the door from shutting. He waits for the attendent to move away and then slips into the booth to hunt for the needed information. Fireflight blinks and stares at the Guide as he walks away, somewhat shocked. Then he closesh is mouth and looks at Marissa with an embarassed look "... Uhm. Darn." he states simply, holding his Permit Request Form. "This is harder than it is. At least there's nothing slapping us in the faces for having ideas." and his hands come up... just in case. F-35B Lightning II laughs at the balloons. While she could remain in place, because she is capable of hovering, after all, she really doesn't feel like it. They just told her that they're sending fighters here! Standing put would be the definition of dumb. So she flies off a bit, looking at this boring, boring world. She's not sure what Mortex is up to, but she does so hope he has a ride off this dull planet. Marissa Faireborn beams at the alien as it shuffles off to lunch. The happy smile vanishes, whoever, as soon as the alien is gone, replaced with the Colonel's normal stern, no-nonsense self. She nods in Keeper's direction and motions for him to seal the deal. <> the Colonel whispers into her radio. She's tiny, though, so she can't really see much from her position, though. "Don't jinx it," she replies to Fireflight. Dee-Kal takes a walk. She ponders for a moment, watching the locals shuffling around, paperwork in their hands instead of newspapers, calculators instead of cell phones. Oh. The calculators ARE cell phones, too. Quirky fashions they have here. But why not? She reaches into her hip compartment and takes out a pencil and a set of granny glasses. Deeky places the specs on her nose, and the pencil miraculously fits itself just behind her left aural housing. She heads onwards, looking for her friends. Red Alert frowns at the waste bin with its now hidden Decepticon cassette. As he does this, Mortex suddenly falls out of the sky and lands directly behind him. Red Alert would probably jump out of his outer-plating at this - if he hadn't heard the Decepticon's landing from over a mile up. Instead, he stands up, not even turning to look at the Decepticon directly behind him, and addresses the attendant in the information booth. "Excuse me!" he says primly, voice demanding. "This... /gentleman/ behind me just violated Landing Code Two-Six-Five-Nine-Oh-Eight subsection Alpha, Landing Safety Zoning Code Seven-Eight-Four-Three-Charlie-Delta-One, and Spacing Ordinance Alpha-Seven-Five-Nine-One, Revision Five. Are you going to let that stand unchallenged?" A speaker reminds Fireflight, "Remember, creativity is a serious offense. Thank you and have a nice day." Ecto is not, however, looking at the ghost as it reappears through the wall as his PKE beeped as Mortex starts to plummet to the ground. He waves a hand dismissively at the image as he begins to walk down the street. "Go away, go away. I'm busy." He starts to move toward Red Alert and Mortex. Fireflight squeaks at the speaker and nods simply, optics a little wide "Un... understood." he states "thanks." And then stares at the natives again. They WERENT Vogons, were they? Deeky walks on and finally locates Flighty and co. It isn't hard. They left a paper trail. Not to mention disgruntled voices complaining about the extra paperwork the visitors are going to cause. The attendant that the other attendant pointed at declares to Mortex, "Excuse me, sir, but you did not land in an authorized landing strip. Please wait while I obtain a ticket for you." He begins to type away at his desk, oblivious to the shenanigans in the other, abandoned booth. As for Keeper, he will find an abundance of forms and documents in the booth. However, if you go by alphabetical order, it shouldn't take long to find a guide to this planet. The attendant realizes something else, and begins to type in another ticket. "Impersonating a spectre is also a serious offense, sir." Mortex is apparently unconcerned by Red Alert's call; he was landing to avoid being outflown and to give Americon a moment to get away. The Necrocon kneels, lifting the trash ("You are violating Litter Recovery Law 11129848573: Unauthorized Litter Can Realigning. Have a nice day!" the speakers inform him) Americon is in, in case the law enforcement manages to fill out in triplicate enough forms to actually come after him. The Decepticon's cloak folds around him, encasing his skeletal form, the purple emblem of the Decepticons proudly glowing where his cloak's latch should be. He turns to face the Attendant now. "And did the kind machine who informed you of this law possess a law enforcement permit?" He asks, his voice like rusty gears only just now managing to turn after a long, long time. Fireflight waves to Deeky "Hey Deek-Al." he then whispers "careful about being creative. ITs a serious offense. But ideas dont get you smacked in the face. " he holds up the form "I wonder what this permits me to do." he shrugs, and aquires a pen to begin filling it out as best he could. Keeper is very efficient and would likely do well on this world. Ge scans and digs and gets what he needs. The Guide! Through the window he gives a thumbs up which comes off as corny and foreign to his nature. But he places everything else back where it goes and exits the booth. He returns to the front and says, "Here, everything we need to know, want to know and don't want to know." He holds out the guide. Dee-Kal grins at Flighty. "Smurfacious to see you." She peers over her specs at the civil servants. "It is Wednesday. I *get* to," she says sharply, before anyone can say anything about smurfing. Fireflight fills out the form "Specific color name? Uh, Candy Apple Red... And snow white wings..." he states, going through the form easily and carefully in his rather neat printing. He hums a little, then stops himself quickly and looks about, before going back to the form. Flip - page two@ The attendant considers something, then nods, "Red Alert has filled out a form requesting a law enforcement permit. But since he does not possess that permit, he will be fined until such time that he receives a permit." Marissa Faireborn casually puts down the various guides she acquired with her diversionary tactics and joins back up with Keeper. "Well done," she says, glad to no longer have to play the fool. "They may be organized but they're still fairly stupid. Lets read over the guide and see if there isn't some kind of shortcut we can use to find the Matrix." Dee-Kal h'ms. Dee-Kal lifts her chest panel and draws out a towel for just in case. Fireflight flips to page three, now filling out his next of kin. A pause "WEll, I guess technically Silverbolt's oldest..." he states, filling them out in that order, as well as their details. Dee-Kal shuts her panel and ties the towel around her waist, like a shirt. She regards the civil servant again. "It *is* the last Wednesday of the eleventh month, is it not? ... Exactly so." skirt Red Alert sighs heavily. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to this," he mumbles, sliding open a small compartment on the inside of his arm. He removes a small disk, and hands it to the attendand. "I *believe* that should cover the fines," he says, though he's a touch worried. Construction of the Orion Pax has Operations' coffers a bit low! "Additionally, you should find on that disk a filled out request for a temporary permit, for use until such a time as the permanent permit arrives." Ecto turns the corner and spots the cape of Mortex as the other turns toward the Attendant. He flicks his optics between the PKE meter screen and Mortex, taking in a brief study of the sky, before pocketing his PKE and yanking out his proton thrower before he aims it at the back of Mortex. "I got a taste of your signals, pal, and they didn't look friendly! Now, sir, I ask that you disengage any and all weapons and remove yourself to your planet of origin or a reasonable facsimile thereof!" Fireflight scribbles down more and flips to the fourth page, furrowing his brow as he just plows through this. Robotic Bald Eagle pops out of the trash bin, cackling gleefully. The attendant frowns at Red Alert. "Sir, your fines haven't arrived yet. Are you attempting to bribe me? Because that is another serious offense." Fireflight eventually gets all five pages done - front AND back - in neat block lettering with the right colored pen (He can read directions it seems, when he wants to). Finally he carefuly stacks the papers and steps up to the information booth not being spoken to by Red Alert "Hi! I filled this out for a permit! " he notes "How long will it take to get to me?" Keeper takes a knee and lowers the all encompassing guide to where Marissa can view it as he flips through it. Administrators. Lead Administrator. "There." He cross references a map. The attendant also adds to Dee-Kal, "We do not recognize Wednesday on this world, madame." F-35B Lightning II continues to fly around, trying to avoid that ballons that dot the sky and tell her to hold still so that she may be arrested. She is so very bored. If only the Autobots would do something more than stand around and fill out forms! At this rate, she is contemplating actually staying in one place and letting the police fighters catch her. Marissa Faireborn claps her hands together. "Perfect!" she exclaims, pleased to be making progress on this Godforsaken place. "Hey all, Keeper and I are going to go check out the Lead Administrator. Anyone who wants to come along, feel free! Now, lets be careful getting over there," she says. "I think I've figured out the pattern for this place on what's allowed and what's not allowed. If it's boring as hell, it's allowed." The attendant takes the forms, looks them over, then looks up something on his computer. "It will take approximately five weeks for your forms to be reviewed, sir." Meanwhile, Catechism will notice the squadron of police fighters approaching her at exactly 327.2231 km/h. No more, no less. They begin transmitting requests that she submit to being shot down. Fireflight blinks "Five weeks!" he looks somewhat dismayed "I may not be here in five weeks though. What will happen then?" Fireflight seems to have forgotten about the mission. The attendant declares, "You will be fined for failing to be present for the completion of a form." Mortex isn't nearly genre-savvy enough to understand the insanity (vogonity?) of the issue; he simply folds his hands behind his cloak, staring at Red Alert with those malicious red optics, waiting for the Autobot to make a move - local law enforcement probably wouldn't actually get off its butt until all the forms had been properly scanned, so it wasn't as though he didn't have plenty of time to get away. Unless, of course, Red Alert tried something to secure him. His force field generator - ahh, memories - thrums to life beneath his cloak, encircling him. One had to hand it to the Necrocon - he was -prepared- for eventualities. Admittedly, most probably wouldn't want to prepare the way he had. He tilts his skull back at Ecto. "Ahhh, the Junkion...did my minion lose your interest?" He murmurs, that rusty-gear voice grinding out over the area. "How...unfortunate." Sunder has arrived. Fireflight blinks a little "... oh." a pause as he thinks "Is it too late to take that back until I'm SURE I can come back? " The attendant stuffs the forms into a capsule and shoves it down into a pneumatic tube. "Yes, it is too late, sir." Fireflight blinks again "... oh. OKay." a pause "how much is this fine? Like, on average?" The attendant says, "Fifty thousand credit units." Fireflight squeaks at that "Is there a way to request to have it mailed to me perhaps?" he asks. Dee-Kal says, "It is the Third Day of the Fourth Week of the Eleventh Month. Smurfing is perfectly acceptable every Third Day, unless you are smurfing the Old Imperial System, where this day is the Sixth Day, if I recall. I am to understand that the Twentysmurf Day of the Fourth Month is similar... But I am afraid I do not have ultramarine. Blue will have to do." Keeper rises and gives the area a look around. He then nods, "Let us move on." F-35B Lightning II can hit Mach 5 in a standard atmosphere without blinking. The sky is no longer the limit to her velocity. She can easily, easily exceed 327.2231 km/h. Never a fan of sumitting to being shot, she plays keep-away with the police fighters, staying precisely 100 km away from them at all times. Red Alert brings his right hand up to rub his nose, his optics dimmed as he momentarily cycles inputs. At this point, he doesn't even seem to take notice of the Decepticon behind him, although given his senses, he's perfectly aware that the Decepticon's still there... and that electrical thrumming noise... forcefield? "No," he finally answers the attendant tiredly. "No, I was not. I honestly believed you had the fines on file. You will excuse my presumption of /efficiency./" When he hears of the processing time for Fireflight's form he withdraws his datastick and returns to its location. "Now if you'll excuse me..." and Red Alert turns away. "Come on, Fireflight," he says as he turns to follow after Keeper and Marissa, /still/ not paying Mortex much mind. Ecto is still holding onto his proton thrower in both hands, aiming it at Mortext levelly, as he jerks his head back to reflect where he left the ghost thing summoned up by Mortex. "Pretty poor minion, pal. My gizmo saw through that in about 2 seconds flat...you though, man, I dunno what to make of you. Are you really serious about that cape?" The attendant appears to get very angry at Dee-Kal's words. "Planet 501.A is a Smurf-free zone! It is a crime to smurf, and a crime to decorate anything in an Ultramarine color. And, sir--" He turns to Fireflight. "You must be physically present on the planet to accept the forms." Off in the distance, the Lead Administrator's location looms. The Lead Administration Tower. The biggest building on the planet, poking into the stratosphere like a drab spike. Who would've thought he'd be in there? Sunder's head disappears into his chest, his wings fold around him, and now he is in Sweepcraft mode, his headcannon still visible. Fireflight murmers into his radio in dismay and looks at Red Alert, somewhat panicky now. He turns around to follow behind Red Alert quickly "coming!" he states, deciding to worry about that later. Or forget about it. Marissa Faireborn would normally hop into an Autobot for the ride over at this point (she hasn't forgotten about your awesome alt mode, Red Alert. You can't escape forever), but with the crowds being this thick they aren't able to make much in the way of time anyhow. The Colonel follows after Keeper, who hopefully knows how to get there. Dee-Kal smiles sweetly at the civil servant. She then follow the others and heads off. Sweepcraft approaches where Americon is. He's not sure what the little tape-con is up to, but given the sheer number of unfriendlies (and the cops chasing after Catechism), he figures some backup will probably be in order soon. He shortranges to Americon. <> Mortex seems alright that Red Alert is ignoring him - after all, the Autobot has nothing he's interested in. The Necrocon similarly seems vaguely amused by the Junkion's weaponry; he turns to stare at Ecto quietly, red optics glowing in grey. "I have always wanted," he whispers, the screech of his voice nevertheless quite loud, "To examine a Junkion in person." Fingers, most likely holographic, extend through the cloak, bony and skeletal like his real hard. "Such amazing...mechanical talents, to function from nothing but scrap metal...what is your name, Junkion?" The police jets constantly send Catechism with requests to slow down to the recognized speed limit and prepare to be fired upon. Somehow, despite all of her maneuvers, they manage to maintain a perfect formation, deviating nary an inch from their positions. Keeper does. And moves like a snow plough at a slow but undeterrable pace, keeping a gap of open space in his wake. "Coming through. Coming through. Watch your back. Left. Coming through. He wades his way through the 20 foot tall grey people towards the looming Lead Administration Tower. Robotic Bald Eagle flaps in mid-air as street speakers complain that he (and Sunder) are unauthorized avians. <> Dee-Kal has small feet, to stepping along is perhaps a hair easier for her than others. Who can say? She catches up with Red quite easily. And in passing lightly brushes her fingertips over Marissa's hair. "I can smurf you a boost-up if you wish, Miss Marissa." A speaker blats out, "No smurfing permitted." Fireflight nudges Deek "no Smurfing remember?" he notes, giggling softly at how that sounded. Ecto steps backward, one handing holding onto the proton thrower, as the other pulls out a ghost trap and holds it in his left hand. "What am, your science project? The theatrics are quite entertaining, if not exactly novel, but at least you put a little bit of effort into it. I suggest you cease, however, before I'll have to take action." Marissa Faireborn manages not to flinch as Dee-Kal brushes against her hair (er). "You're... going to do what now?" she asks, unsure of whether she understood that quite right. She takes a moment to decipher it. "I'm fine for now, Dee-Kal. Thank you for the offer, though. If we get some more space where we can speed up I'll take you up on it." F-35B Lightning II is going to assume that the police jets are, in fact, glued together. She doesn't hear Americon's message to Sunder, because it is a message to Sunder, so she still doesn't know why she's here. So Catechism does something different. She flies down above a line of people standing in line, doubtless ruffling some forms as she flies by. Will the police fighters follow her down to such an unsafe altitude? Dee-Kal smiles. Dee-Kal smiles. Street speakers declare that jet airplanes are not authorized at this altitude. This is a warning that the police jets heed, as they stay safely above the rooftops of the city and don't follow Catechism too far down. They try, as much as possible, to hover over her, though. Mortex remains standing where he is, the force field safely active (though running in quiet mode). He starts laughing, a laugh like rusty hinges squeaking back and forth over and over ("Mirth is strictly prohibited by the Humor Control Law 109928", the speakers remind him pointlessly). "Science project? Oh, Junkions...always so preoccupied with their culture as to ignore their wonderful adaptations." The holographic finger points at him as the cloak's Decepticon shield-shaped latch's eyes light up. The Necrocon tilts his head up at Catechism zooms past, but lowers it back to watch Ecto again. Those malicious red optics brighten, filling the entirety of the eyesockets. "What good do you think your toy will do, Junkion?" Dee-Kal chuckles. Perhaps less smurfing *would* be better in this instance. "I can smu- err, *let* you on my shoulder if you wish. I am very good at ... 'handling'... human-types now. Poor sam-u-el puts up with so much from me..!" She grins. "Also EDCing as a human-type myself now and then is proving very insightful..!" Fireflight hears the speakers and nudges Deek again. "These poor guys are heavily regulated." he notes quietly as he follows behind red, frowning. Dee-Kal glances up, and nods. "Hai, so da yo. Big Brother, ne..?" <> Sweepcraft wonders. Dee-Kal says, "I wonder. If you swear, do venting machines print out scrap paper that you can use in the sump room? I saw a movie once with Sylvester Stallone in..." Robotic Bald Eagle shrugs at Sunder, which also earns a sharp reprimand from the speakers, since birds are forbidden from shrugging. <> F-35B Lightning II laughs! Ah-hah! So they won't follow her down, then, and they seem to be unwilling to outrun her. Moreover, they can't fire at her if she's hovering over a line of natives, can they? She jets along the lines of streets, incurring stern admonitions from sundry speakers. She still doesn't know why she's here, but this is a bit more amusing now. Keeper reaches the steps to the front entrance to the Tower and turns to watch what others have followed. Ecto drops the trap to the floor(You are nnow in violation of Road Obstruction Code #141414) before Ecto pushes it toward Mortex's position. He glances at the holographic finger as it points at him before Ecto raises up a foot and places it just above the release for the trap. "Hey, if you think my toys can't take you, buddy, then come right on and see how well they work. I built 'em all myself." Red Alert has, indeed, followed, although he's keeping a fairly close watch on the Decepticon activities behind him... not to mention making sure that Fireflight is still with them. He casts another thoughtful frown in Catechism's direction. Marissa Faireborn has followed Keeper, and she also stops at the steps to the Tower so that everyone who's going in can gather up. The jet fighters meticulously follow Catechism, and noticeably don't fire, either. However, soon Catechism can hear sirens from... police cars? Yes, they're even sending police cars after her. While they have no hope of catching up to her, they are certainly creating havoc in the crisscrossing lines that are going everywhere. Red Alert watches what's happening. He turns to the others and says, "I would say we'd best act while she's creating such a distraction." With that, he pushes on the door at the bottom of the tower and enters. The Lead Administration Tower is a truly massive edifice, as large as it is dull. It's like someone said, "Hey, let's build a really big building, but make it without even the vaguest semblance of personality or style whatsoever." And they have certainly achieved this goal. The grey, dusty building doesn't inspire even the slightest bit of confidence upon any gaze on it. Upon entering the structure, the heroes will find themselves in a lobby packed with the planet's inhabitants. Every seat is taken. The clerk at the front desk stares at the new arrivals dully. Mortex curls his -real- hand around beneath his cloak, his mind rolling over various ways he can get out of this. "Oh, I have no doubt that they are wonderful toys," the Decepticon replies, "Excellent, excellent toys, in fact. I admire your kind, you know." The Necrocon begins walking, circling about the Junkion like a shark(ticon?) in the water, optics fixed on his adversary. "A wonderful breed, Junkions. Marvels of self-engineering. Such versatility...if something damages you, I understand, you can simply incorporate the nearest piece of scrap into your body. A form of...immortality." The Necrocon's cloak splits down the middle, spreading open to reveal his skeletal interior. It's actually quite disturbing; pieces are mis-matched, and the patchy nature of his body is quite apparent at this range. "We are kindred, you and I...both of us incorporate...-spare parts-...into ourselves. It is a most rewarding practice, isn't it? To piece by piece remake yourself, improve yourself...tell me, Junkion...are you a machine of learning?" He uncurls his fingers. "I am. I understand many things. Many secrets. But the secret I want right now is -yours-." The bony hand sweeps out to jut a steel bone at Ecto. "Your immortality. How you function. I want it, Junkion!" He shrieks, incurring the speakers chirping about noise level laws. "By any means necessary..." Mortex stops for an unknown reason in mid-step, freezing in his place. F-35B Lightning II sees the Autobots moving off toward a tower of some sort, and so she banks over that way. Americon's radio comment piques her interest further evenas it makes her boggle. Sure, it may lead the fighters and police cars on her tail toward the tower, but such is life. Fireflight follows Red Alert in, glancing it around a little. "Yikes..." he states, slowing down... wide wings + tight quarters = accident going to happen. Keeper enters and pauses to eye the grand que on seats. "I do not think an unscheduled lunch break will work here." Fireflight mutters "Where is Breeblebrox when you need a diversion." Dee-Kal steps neatly up behind Flighty and tut-tuts. "Honestly - you need to practise smur- -folding your wings. Like this..." and she folds hers in. "Here... hold still a nano..." Ecto leaps back suddenly as the Necrocon reaches for him, grasping hold of the proton thrower, before he aims it at Mortex. As the other stops moving, however, he keeps his weapon pointed forward as he glances curiously at Mortex. "Guess you needed those parts faster then you though, huh, big guy? Maybe you need to stop at the 7-11 before travelling across the galaxy." Marissa Faireborn cranes her neck to look up. "I never knew a huge tower could be so uninspiring," she comments. "I'm just going to go ahead and say it - this entire place is terrible. How do these people even live? Look at the expressions on their faces." The Colonel watches with pity as a pair of aliens shuffle by to go join another line, wearing dull, uninterested expressions of neutrality. She enters the building along with everyone else. "Lets go talk with the clerk, at least." she says, heading over there. Fireflight smiles at Deek "Mine aren't foldable though." he points out to her, lagging behind the others now. He reaches back to pull on one "SEe?" He tugs on one, which of course causes a see-saw motion to happen, the other one moving the same direction and WHAPPING some alien across the shoulders. The alien lets out an oof, and the intercom declares, "Please remain here. A police officer will be here shortly to arrest you. You will be shot if you resist arrest." Fireflight blinks at this and looks up "But it was an ACCIDENT." he points out to the speaker, optics a little wide at that "Not an assault." Mortex folds his arms back beneat his cloak. The Junkion's gibberish was meanginless to him. His fingers curl into fists as the cloak slams shut again. "Tell me...do you have a name, Junkion?" He screeches. The intercom adds, "Lying is a serious offense." "I /don't/ think we have time to go through this the propoer way, Marissa," Red Alert says, tone worried and a bit high pitched. "The Decepticons are now contemplating engagement." He pauses and looks at the Junkion. "And I don't mean they want to get married." Then he sighs, comes to a decision, and activates not only his sirins, but triggers any car alarms or equivilent in any Autobots near by. Fireflight frowns "I am NOT lying." he argues with the speaker, folding his arms. Then leaps out of his boots nearly as he finds his own alarm going off inside himself, falling backwards into the wall. He blinks, feeling something back there. "... well now." and reaches behind his back. Ahah. Fire alarm. "Sorry Bolt..." *PRESS BUTTON* Dee-Kal winces. "Be careful, Flight!" She looks about to protest to Red about the 'engagement' comment, but quickly decides not to. The clerk leans over her desk and down at Marissa. "Yes, madame?" she says, apparently recognizing Marissa's gender. Then, as alarms and sirens go off everywhere, the clerk frowns, stands up, and begins to leave the building. "Excuse me, but the fire alarm, as well as several others, just went off. I have to leave, now. Good day." She and the other aliens shuffle out of the building slowly, with the street speakers assuring everything that the fire department will be here in three hours, as will the police department in two hours to investigate the car alarms. Dee-Kal smiles. Ecto waggles a finger of his left hand at Mortex. "Uh uh uh...you forgot to say the magic word, uh uh uh..." And yes, the police fighters are still pursuing Catechism, but they don't seem to want to get too close to the Tower. Must be another regulation. Americon undergoes a patriotic transformation into his All-American robot mode! Dee-Kal's internal alarm does not go off. Marissa hmms. Fireflight whaps an alien, cops are dispatched, and Red Alert activates his siren. The Colonel cracks her knuckles, "Alright, we can do it this way too." Making a bluff roll, Marissa steps up to the front desk and briefly flashes her EDC ID, too quick for anyone to read it. She talks quick. "Sergeant LaFitte with the Galactic Assembly. As you can see here I have a Class A Autobot - Assembly designation, of course - here to assist me with important business. If you could just direct me to the Lead Administrator's office we'll be on our way." Americon peeks around the doorway as all the aliens tromp out of the tower, squinting at the Good Guys, then ducking behind cover. He snickers to himself at what a sneaky infiltrator he is. Dee-Kal smiles. Fireflight leans against the button. No button here. He does look somewhat shocked, perhaps at his own actions. F-35B Lightning II circles around the tower, although she cannot really be said to circle. Her movements really look nothing like circles. Irregular, tortured polygons, quite possibly. She looks at the tower, trying to figure out just what force it would take to breach through one of the tower walls. If it sounds like the Autobots have found the Matrix, she'd like to smash and grab. Mortex is oblivious to the pop culture reference involving a fat man hacking into a highly secure computer system guarding a bunch of organics reminiscent of the Dinobots, but slightly smarter. "Magic Word." He murmurs, preparing to trigger a sonic assault. "Now...your name, Junkion." The Sweep hovers near Americon, scanning the tower. <> he tells Americon. Not that he actually believes the Matrix could be in such a place...but eh, you never know. Sunder sweeps the area. It's really amazing that Red Alert can tolerate all the racket he kicks up (and no, no internal alarms are triggered in anyone who doesn't want them triggered), but he's designed to be adapted to them. He stays near the door, announcing, "Everyone, evacuate in an orderly fashion!" Not that these people need to be told that, apparently. Either way, he seems to intend to stay here, at the entrance, so as to allow the others to take advantage of the distraction. The clerk pauses for a moment despite the threat of fire, taking the card and looking at it carefully. "Hm... yes, the Lead Administrator is on the top floor, room 12232.4123B. However, you will have to sign your name on the waiting list after the Fire Department has dealt with the Fire Alarm, which will take four to five hours. Good day." She hands the ID back and walks out the door. Dee-Kal smiles. The clerk did that for Marissa, of course. Fireflight puts his hands over his ears at the noise, just leaning there still. He WAS Told to stay where he was, after all. Mortex successfully activates a powerful protective forcefield around Mortex, shielding him from the next attack. Ecto rolls his eyes as Mortex again demands his name. "Oh, come on, man...you don't even know the magic word? Yo ureally need to get out more. I think I'm gonna do something more fun, though, so, I think I'm gonna go somewhere else." He moves forwars quickly, stomping down on the push button for the ghost trap, which causes it's doors to snap open and emit the trademark blinding light without that neato suction effect: doubtless he's working on it. Ecto misses Mortex with his Special attack. Keeper waits patiently for the window of opportunity to open fully thanks to the alarm. He resist the urge to tell these people off for their bad joke of a security protocol system. Americon frowns as he gets a transmission from Sunder, then gets a plan. He transmits something, then darts into an opening elevator door. Just as the last alien walks out, Americon laughs, and says, "Thanks for doing all the hard work finding out where the Matrix is, suckers! Ha! Ha! Ha!" He presses the "close elevator door" button, and the elevator door dutifully complies. Then, he hits the button top floor, and... nothing happens. "What?" "Hey, no, wait!" Marissa says as the clerk gets up and leaves, "I... Class A!... um... it's... Galactic... ah forget it. Well that trick didn't work, but at least you managed to clear the place out," Marissa says. "Should we just start searching the old fashioned way?" "She gave you the room number, Marissa," Red Alert points out. Then he tilts his head. "Don't use the elevators," he says, then adds, "I'll stay down here, in case he tries to evacuate this way." He shakes his head. "I'll look for a particularly boring looking member." Fireflight finally makes his way towards Marissa and Dee-Kal then "Any way I can help?" he asks, blinking a little as Americon runs out. Then he looks to the other two "Shall we find the staircase then?" "Hurry!" Red Alert adds. "Americon's going to attempt to fly up the shaft!" "Uh, no I'm not!" yells Americon from inside the elevator. "I'm, just, uh..." Fireflight squeaks "I can't FLY up the stairs but... " he furrows his brow and looks to Red. Dee-Kal says, "I can." Fireflight nods at Deek "Then take Marissa." he moves towards the stairwell, assuming they have one and pushes the door open "I'll run as fast as I can to keep up." Mortex allows the ghost trap to go off, splattering harmlessly against his force field. It really is funny to him. "I told you so!" he shrieks, a mad, high-pitched, and frankly unnerving laughing ripping and echoing through the grey streets ("Mirth is strictly prohibited", the speakers remind him once again). "Now, Junkion...let us test your immortality! NECROCONS!" His hands tilt upwards, arms spreading from beneath the cloak as he continues to shriek with laughter. "COMBINE INTO NECROTITAN!" From the shadows, they leap up, solid-looking machines - a skeleton in armor with a massive blade, a black metal robe with a huge scythe, a white female-looking 'con in a white dress with white hair, and another black metal robe tattered and torn in various places - transforming in mid-jump. One by one, the machines link up, with Mortex himself forming the enormous black skull head. And there it stands - Necrotitan, the failed Combiner, in all its undead glory, massive bony hands wielding a glowing red sword and glowing red shield, raised to strike the Junkion with what can only be a lethal blow. And it's quite convincing, as that sword falls down, but it's certainly not the truth of the attack - a misdirection alone. For as the sword falls, as that black-armored titan with its torn legs and shredded sleeves and missing bones attacks, it is Mortex himself - hidden within the massive hologram of his former team - who attacks, a barrage of sonic waves shrieking out like a banshee's wail in the direction of the Junkion. The hologram of Necrotitan breaks apart as the sonic assault rips out of it, dissolving like a gargantuan undead nightmare struck by the daylight. Mortex strikes Ecto with Sonics. "I was hoping she'd-" Marissa gets cut off as Red Alert starts reporting on the Decepticon activity. "Yeah, you're just in time. Come on, Fireflight, Dee-Kal, we have ourselves some stairs to climb!" Awkward pause. Long awkward pause. Really long awkward pause. "Hey could I get a lift?" she asks Deek and Fireflight. Keeper consults the guide and turns it to the part on navigating government buildings. He hands it over to the search party and then stands guard outside. Ecto is sent skidding back due to the sudden sonic blow that Mortex sends against him but, luckily, it does little damage to him. He recovers himself quickly, raising his proton thrower, before flicking on the weapon with his thumb as he looks at Mortex with a grin. "You like light shows, huh, buddy? Then see how you like this!" He activates the thrower and suddenly a bright charge of energy leaps from the nozzle of the weapon and snakes toward Mortex. Dee-Kal smiles. Dee-Kal smiles. Ecto strikes Mortex with Plasma. Dee-Kal smiles. Dee-Kal drops to on knee as she's learnt to do, and the little Junkette helps Marrisa up to her shoulder. Once seated, Deeky places a hand on her shoulder (and Marrisa's lap) and then stands upright. Fireflight nods and guestures "Go Deek! We need to make it to the top first!" he states. "I'll run behind you! F-35B Lightning II flies up to the top floor of the tower, and for once, she does indeed stay still in one place, hovering right next to the tower. She opens on it with one of her rockets, letting one off the chain. Hopefully, the walls are weaker than the warranty that is thwarting Americon so badly. "Thanks Keeper," Marissa says as the search party receives the guide from him. The Colonel scrambles up onto Dee-Kal's shoulder and holds on. Having been around Autobots her entire life, she's gotten pretty good at riding them like this. Sweepcraft is having difficulty with the scans. Well, it's probably due to the Matrix being so hard to detect. So, he transforms and heads for the roof of the tower, ready to assist in Americon's little adventure. Sunder shifts into his fearsome-looking robot mode. Dee-Kal nods sharply to Flighty's request. "Hai!" She fires up her antigrav and glides upwards, literally taking the stairway. Spiralling round and round is a novel way to ascend, but Deeky's done lots of weaving and pirouetting before in her free time, for fun. Storey after storey are ticked off mentally as the Junkette goes upwards. Mortex is battered by the assault of plasma, cloak quickly sealing shut to hide the Necrocon's fragile-looking boney interiot. The energy splatters across him, searing his body and burning at the cloak despite his best efforts; he screams, but it's a scream of twisted pleasure, as though he's quite pleased by the Junkion's quick reply by the attack and the pain is a refreshing change of pace. Mortex lifts off into the air, the insane skull grin still the only thing on his face. "What a wonderful toy you have, Junkion!" He shrieks as he moves out of range, "And would that I had more time to test you...but matters more important require my intention." The skeleton's cloak unfolds, like wicked wings on which to fly. "It is a most unfortunate turn of events...until the next time!" And he soars up, heading for the enormous tower around which all the activity is taking place, his personal agenda thwarted in favor of greater matters. Fireflight blinks at this, staring up at Deek "... I want some of those." he mutters, and then launches up the stairs, feet clattering up as he goes up the staircase as fast as he could. This building was built by the finest government-contracted company on the planet, which is to say, that it meets all of the various regulations for safety and construction standards while still being horribly inadequate in every way. And so the windows and concrete walls prove no obstacle for Catechism's rocket, and after a great blast of fire and dust, she has made herself a new door. Up on the top floor, a gentleman in a crumpled business suit sits behind a fancy desk, scowling. There is a TV in his office, and apparently he was watching an action movie. Hm. Something's familiar about it. F-35B Lightning II isn't all that used to her new engines, and she accidentally launches herself into orbit. Zoooooooooooooom! Whoops. A dark, demomic shadow descends upon you. You feel razor-sharp claws dig in and hold you securely, and a stabbing pain to your neck as daggerlike fangs pierce and drain every last drop of energon from you. As you head towards oblivion, you feel warm and fuzzy. Sorta like being +nom'ed by Sunder. Ah, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ecto is not quite left holding the bag but is left holding his proton thrower as Mortex takes off and flies away. "Hey, what the...who are you, anyway?" After several minutes of painful stomping, the Autobots will surely ascend to the top! And no one tries to stop them because, well, everyone left the building. Fire alarm and all. Well, actually, ONE person is still here... Marissa Faireborn holds on tight as Dee-Kal anti-gravs her way up flight after flight of stairs. In another time or place, this would be pretty fun. Which is amazing given that this planet is designed around making sure nothing is fun. Dee-Kal holds onto Marissa as she spirals upwards - not tightly per se, but holds her close. The ascension is fairly quiet as Deeky uses no jets, but does use her turbofans for some direction. "Heya wa nan desu ka? Which floor, kudasai?" she asks. "Top floor! Keep going till you run out of stairs!" Fireflight puffs, continuing to run up behind her, falling beind a little. A well-dressed looking fellow also emerges from a doorway and passes by Red Alert. Could this be the Lead Administrator? He DOES look very boring. Then again, if that's him, then who's in the top floor? Red Alert makes a move to step in front of the door way. After all, he doesn't /know/ that someone is on the top floor. "Erm... excuse me, sir?" The well-dressed fellow adjusts his glasses and stares at Red Alert with a blank expression. "Excuse me, I must leave the building, because it is on fire." Red Alert automatically sniffs at the air. Just because he triggered a false alarm doesn't mean there mightn't be a real fire, after all! However, he does not move aside. Instead, he answers, "Indeed. And why did you not leave the building when the alarms first went off?" Red Alert is forcing an innocent to remain in a building with a fire alarm going off. Every instinct in his mind is screaming at him, saying 'This is NOT what you do!' and the distress shows pretty plainly on his face. "Room 12232.4123B," Marissa replies. Hopefully there's some measure of signage around for what floor that would be on. "Top floor sounds good to me." The Sweep dives into the hole and enters the top floor. Scanning feverishly, the Sweep looks around for the Matrix--should it be there at all. Sometimes he wished he had Brigand's proficiency in finding 'lost' items. Dee-Kal, some way ahead, gives a firm nod to herself. "As you wish! See you at the top!" And she shuts off all the restraints on her antigrav and literally surges upwards. Dee-Kal's antigrav unit was never intended for a being of her scale - it was designed for a Decepticon twice her size and weight! Instead of making extra effort to go up, she simply relaxes. Without any restraints in place, she *shoots* up that stairwell. The well-dressed fellow Red Alert has accosted continues to stare blankly at the Autobot. He doesn't move or say anything at all, completely unsympathetic to his moral dilemma. There's various signs on the stairways, denoting the range of room numbers on a certain floor, like 6000-7000, and apparently 12232.4123B is above all of them. Red Alert grimaces, but forces himself to continue. "Look... you... this is very... very important. Even more important than alarms." And alarms are Red Alert's life! "There was... There was recently a request submitted for the Matrix. Do you... do you know anything about that?" And on the top floor, the fellow at the desk looks at Sunder with a frown, and says, "Hello, I'm the Lead Administrator of this world. I don't suppose you're the one that made that new window for me, are you?" Dee-Kal smiles. Mortex lands atop the tower, staring down into the hole. The plasma was still burning across his cloak; however, the Necrocon had managed to shake off the brunt of it in his flight. He waves his hand, folding the cloak back about him, and prepares to provide medical support to any of the Decepticons who might fall...or a handy hearse service to any of the Decepticons who might die. Upon hearing the Lead Administrator speak, he prepares to attack...in case any autobots might come in and prevent Sunder from acquiring what they're seeking for. The man Red Alert's accosting nods his head. "Yes, we received The Matrix not so long ago, sir. However, the building is on fire." That jives with the top floor theory (though it's more of a guess than anything), Marissa says as the signs whiz on past. Little does Marissa know, they're going to be running right into Sunder at the top. "The Matrix!" Red Alert gasps, optics wide. "But how? Why? Who gave it to you?" Is it really that simple? He looks towards the stairway, hoping his fellows make it to the top in time. Fireflight is still working on it. Hopefully he wont get distracted halfway. There's not much to divert his attention at least. Sunder narrows his optics at the desk-person. "Indeed not," he growls, "Now tell me quickly. Is there any truth to the report that the Autobot Matrix is here? It is a glowing light blue orb encased in a yellow shell with white handles." The man Red Alert is accosting replies, "We received it yesterday, in fact, direct from Lord Gycony on Monacus. However, when the Lead Administrator received it, he did not appear to be very pleased. I am not sure why. Perhaps, after the Fire Department has dealt with the fire, you can put yourself on the waiting list and meet with him?" Dee-Kal moves both her hands to Marissa and slowly shifts the human from her shoulder to her chest and holds her dearly - and centrally. "Going turbo...!" >WHOOSH< "Who has it right now?" Red Alert demands of the man. If he's speaking of the Lead Administrator, that means this man isn't it. "Is it the Lead Administrator?" Marissa Faireborn is still with Dee-Kal. Not much to report as they charge for the top. Mortex considers for a moment the state of the world. If the Autobots come busting through the door, a firefight would likely break out...however, if there is no door for them to break through... Mortex's fingers weave beneath his cloak as he considers a likely illusion. Finally, however, he decides on it...and where the door to the lead administrator's office is, a hologram forms, a blank wall with a sign in cleverly-written Engrish reading 'Please To Be Apologizing For Our Untidiness - Currently Under Repairs.' Deviously, the Necrocon gives a quiet little cackle at his time-stall and looks down at Sunder to determine how he's faring. The Lead Administrator stands up from his desk. "The Autobot Matrix of Leadership? Yes, I suppose I should've filled out that little request more thoroughly, as you can see." As Dee-Kal shoots up the stairwell and reaches the top floor--and apparently the only room on this floor is the Lead Administrator's--the man himself gestures to the TV screen he was watching. "Instead of getting THAT, I got a DVD of The Matrix, starring Keanu Reeves, Laurence Fishburne, and Seaspray." Yes, in the 2k5 reality, Seaspray costarred in the Matrix. That's him, now, helping Neo fight those cops in the lobby scene, in slow-motion. "You're welcome to it," the Lead Administrator says dryly. Floors whizz past. If it weren't for Diagnostic, her on-board computer, Deeky would prolly wind up bouncing off those banisters. She can't even spare a second to wonder how Sam's arm is faring... and - finally - the reach the top floor and the , presumably, penthouse suite. Or office. In any case... Dee-Kal says, "We are he-e-re..!" Fireflight is still around midway up the stairs, having gotten distracted by... something. The fellow Red Alert is speaking to nods. "Yes. I am his assistant. I believe he is looking at The Matrix even now, on the top floor. I'm not sure why he didn't leave. After all, the building is on fire." Red Alert steps out of the man's way, and nods. "Thank you, and again, my apologies." Bad Red Alert! Red Alert is a bad Autobot! Bad bad bad Red Alert! Red Alert spent his last week in Hell, and /this/ will probably disturb his defragmentation cycle far more. Mortex continues to trust in his illusion. After a moment's thought, Mortex projects a force field around Sunder, still on the roof listening to the conversation and watching with those eerie red optics in those creepy eyesockets. Any delay was a good delay, he reasons, and maybe Sunder would allow the twisted Necrocon medic to take his pick of the Autobot parts...assuming Sunder decides to attack them in an ambush, that is. Mortex successfully activates a powerful protective forcefield around Sunder, shielding him from the next attack. "Blarrghghghhhle!" Seaspray says, putting a gun to the head of an Agent, and offing him right before he can finish off Neo. "Woah!" Neo says, as a disappointed Trinity resigns herself to merely helping the hero up to his feet. Dee-Kal h'ms. Marissa Faireborn and Dee-Kal get up there just in time to hear the news about the Matrix. She winces and manages to find the inner strength not to cry. All of this has been for naught! She sees the Matrix playing. She loved that movie. Seaspray is a goddamn /god/ in those movies. Although she hears the administrator and the movie, she can't make out the other voices in the room. She motions for Dee-Kal to deal with the door so they can get in and talk with the administrator themselves. Yes, in the 2k5 reality, Seaspray costarred in the Matrix. That's him, now, helping Neo fight those cops in the lobby scene, in slow-motion. "You're welcome to it," the Lead Administrator says dryly. Sunder's beardy-jaw drops. "A MOVIE?!" the Sweep grumbles, "So you have no little glowing bauble?" He strokes his beard, aware of the forcefield protecting him. He has half a mind to grab the Lead Administrator by his lapels and shake the stuffing out of him for good measure. Fireflight starts to run up the stairs again, puffing as he takes them two or three at a time. Dee-Kal takes two steps back, then hi kicks the door - and practically topples through the illusion and the unlocked door behind it. Dee-Kal says, "WHOA!" Mortex stares. -Another- Junkion? What were the odds!? As his deranged mind starts going over the odds, the Necrocon dismisses his illusion with a wave of his skeletal hand, enabling the pair to see Sunder. Mortex himself, still on the roof, ducks back a bit to prepare for a surprise attack on the Junkion. Perhaps today wouldn't be a total loss after all... Fireflight finally makes it to the top, puffing as he stands on the landing. He doesnt see Deek go through the door, and thus, moves to lean on it for support - then yelps as he TOO falls through it. "ACK! The little Junkette's arms flail but she stays on her feet. Just. Phew! Fireflight ends up on his aft beside Deek. The Lead Administrator shrugs. "No. I'm pretty sure I *did* request what you're thinking of, though. From Lord Gycony, no less. That fat bastard ripped me off! I'm not going to bother fining him. Once those bounty hunters are done swarming over Earth I'll be sure to put a hit out on his fat, stupid head." In case it wasn't obvious, there's something rather unbureaucratic about this man. "Oh, hello," he says to Dee-Kal, Fireflight, and Marissa as they barge in. Dee-Kal h'ms. Downstairs, the man Red Alert was bothering just nods, says, "Good day," and exits the building. Dee-Kal smiles. Marissa Faireborn nearly falls out of Dee-Kal's grip as the Junkibot (Autobion?) almost falls down. The hell was with that door? Luckily Dee-kal stays up. Motioning for the Junkion to put her down, however, the Colonel peers at the Decepticons wordlessly. She'd rather avoid a fight if she can manage it, especially now that the McGuffin isn't here. To the Lead Administrator, however, Marissa says. "Hi." Dee-Kal stands, fortunately. "Gentlemen. Allow me to introduce to you a couple of wonderful friends of mine. My LEGS... Also Marissa Fairborne and Fireflight Arielbot." Andi Lassiter has arrived. Dee-Kal adjusts her ponytail. Fireflight waves to the Administrator too "Errr hi!" he states "I'm Fireflight! She's Marissa." he clarifies. Americon's robot legs pop out metallic feather-like objects as they and his lower torso split apart, also revealing an eagle head. The arms and robot head join the main body, and his guns convert into tail feathers and rocket launchers. Americon is now a bald eagle! Dee-Kal sets Marissa down, carefully. The elevator doors EXPLODE outwards, and out emerges... Americon, in bird mode! "It is time for--ooh!" He catches sight of The Matrix, and shuffles over to the TV to watch. "I love this part!" he exclaims. On the TV, Seaspray is manning the minigun on the helicopter and blasting away at the Agents as Neo jumps out of it, intent on saving Morpheus. Red Alert is, for clarification purposes, on the first floor, waiting for everyone else to come back down and watching the crowds outside. Dee-Kal shields her optics as the doors on the lift burst open. And readies for battle as Americon bursts forth! And... looks somewhat quizzical as he then promptly forgets everything in favour of the TV. Hey - he's not a Junkion! Fireflight blinks a little at this as well, still sitting on the floor. Then he looks to the Lead Administrator "So its a video, not what we were looking for." a pause "Sorry about your fire alarm." Mortex continues to lurk on the roof secretly, out of sight and unmoving, away from the Autobots' potential interference. He listens to the movie, to the inept Americon's arrival, and to the goings-on below. He waves his hand, a hologram forming over him to hide his existance - in the form of a mundane heater. It's not the most excellent way to spy, but it's a decent one. Sunder rolls his optics at Americon. "Since the building is on fire, do you not think it prudent to evacuate?" he asks the cassette-con. "Come on, we can get that movie at home." Marissa Faireborn asides to Fireflight and Dee-Kal, "How about we... ah, evacuate ourselves, huh? Red Alert's waiting for us, and since the target isn't here, there's no need to start anything... aggressive, hmm?" The Lead Administrator frowns, walking out from behind his desk. "Well, it's a pity, really. You've seen how bad off this world is, haven't you? I can't even pick my nose without getting a hygiene violation." He spreads his arms wide and looks around imploringly. "No, really, I can't! I'm serious! It's that bad. And I was hoping that the Matrix would revitalize my planet. It's supposed to have amazing powers! It can... I don't know... CHANGE things! Get everyone off of welfare, motivate them to work on their own damn dime! Make us a PEOPLE again and not just a bunch of numbers on a form. I mean, did you know we don't have names? Just numbers. Even our species is just a number." He sighs. "I was so desperate, and I'm sorry I wanted all that power for myself, but..." He sighs. "I suppose there's no hope for this planet now." Waving a hand dismissively at Fireflight, he says, "Oh, don't worry about it, it was an amusing diversion, I guess." Fireflight nods a little bit at that at the Lead ADministrator as he climbs to his feet, moving closer and speaking QUITE softly, nodding to Marissa, then back to the LA "well, maybe once we find what we're looking for, we could help out here or something... " he notes, feeling a bit bad for this "So uh, keep an optic ... eye out for the Matrix and let us know okay? " he blinks one optic meaningfully. Then he leans in to murmer something. "Really? We just call you guys Vogons," Marissa replies. "Huh. Well I guess we solved your problem!" She exclaims before jerking her head towards the exit, hinting that they should bail. Turns out she's no Picard or Kirk. "Come on, guys, lets go." Robotic Bald Eagle SHHHHHS at Sunder, then resumes watching the movie. Apparently, at this point, the characters are in the Real World, riding around in the tunnels in a huge version of Seaspray while being chased by Sentinels. Critics frequently complain that the movie doesn't explain how Seaspray can be in the Matrix and navigate himself in the real world at the same time The Lead Administrator sighs, and nods to Fireflight. "Yeah... yeah, alright. If I hear anything else, I'll let you know." He, too, resumes watching the movie. The Lead Administrator also looks up for a moment. "Hm... Vogons, you say? An actual name for our species... you know, I like it." Fireflight smiles at the LA and nods, turning ot the others "Yeah... Let's go now... " a pause and he looks out the window "Can I go that way? I do NOT want to go down those stairs again!" Sunder succeeds in grasping Robotic Bald Eagle , throwing him off-balance. "Another job well done," Marissa says in a rushed manner. It isn't that she's unsympathetic to the Vogons' plight. It's that she doesn't want to bring their entire civilization. I mean she /does/ sort of want to bring down their entire civilization... but... you know. Sunder snorts and reaches out, grabbing Americon by the scruff of his neck. "Come along, or would you rather be roasted alive like a tinfoil turkey? I'm sure Soundwave wouldn't be impressed if I allowed you to melt into a puddle of molten cybertroid alloy while mesmerized by a movie." He then transforms and heads off. "We have wasted enough time here." Sunder's head disappears into his chest, his wings fold around him, and now he is in Sweepcraft mode, his headcannon still visible. Dee-Kal catches sight of her lower half in a polished wall panel. Mortex follows, the Decepticon's cloak spread behind him as he emerges from the illusion. The skeletal Necrocon moves up alongside the Sweep. "What a colossal waste of time," he hisses. "Still, at least they made no more progress than we did.' Fireflight makes his way down eventually, looking wearily and apologetically at Red Alert. Dee-Kal admires her legs in the mirror. Dee-Kal says, "I *knew* getting my legs waxed was a good idea..." Robotic Bald Eagle SQUAWKS loudly, flapping his wings furiously as he tries to fly back in, but Sunder's grip holds him fast, even after he transforms. "But the best part was coming up!" he yells as he is yanked out of the building. "Nooooo! Curse you Autobots, currrrse youuuuu!" Sweepcraft says, "Shhh, you can see the good part LATER. What a mercy I thought to have a DVD player installed in my cargo hold..." Mortex cackles, just a tad madly, the screeching of his laughter once again triggering the mirth control alert laws far below. He bobs his skull at Sunder. "If I may...a ride back to Cybertron...?" He inquires of the Sweep, reaching a skeletal hand out towards the Sweep's back. Dee-Kal stands upright again, seeing Decepticons in the mirror reflection! Or.. was it...? AS soon as they arrive, the seem to vanish. Even Americon Eagle. H'm. Red Alert is standing in the main lobby more or less by himself. He gives Fireflight a very exasperated look, shakes his head, and sighs. He rubs the bridge of his nose with his right index finger, then mutters, "I've got to get off of this planet before it drives me mad... I swear, Kup sent me down here on purpose..." Dee-Kal looks around. Nobody here but us AutoJunks... and Vogons. Her radio comes to life. "Hai, yes, I am smurfing, yes." With a politeness to the Lead Administrator, she departs. Fireflight states "If it makes you feel better, I have to pay fifty thousand crdits in five weeks. " he notes, nudging Red Alert to the door "Before the police show up." The Lead Administrator sits back down at his desk, and resumes watching. "I suppose it's not a BAD movie, really. More exciting than filling out forms, that's for sure." As Neo kisses Trinity, with Seaspray patting Morpheus on the back, the Lead Administrator manages to crack a smile. Red Alert exits and begins forcing his way back through the crowds. "Erm, not really, Fireflight." Dee-Kal opens a window, wriggles through it, and simply drops through the air. Fireflight quirks an optic at that, confused, but he follows Red Alert, making sure Dee-Kal and Marissa catch up. Back to the shuttle! Before Sunder transforms, he nods at Mortex. "By all means," he says. Mortex has the option of sharing the cargo hold with Americon, or SoapdishSurfing. The little Junkion plummets towards the ground, her antigrav restraints reactivated. Mortex decides to SoapdishSurf, as befits the Necrocon's temperment. He makes his way onto the Sweep, clinging to the top with his bony fingers. "My thanks," he rasps. Dee-Kal comes top a nice gentle landing herself, default options back on for everyday flitting, and she lands on her feet among the others. "You smurfed?" Marissa Faireborn is still with Dee-kal. After a final nod to the Lead Administrator, the Colonel is hauled down after the Junkion. "If anyone asks, we're calling this mission a complete success." Dee-Kal says, "As you wish..." The police and Fire Department have finally arrived at the base of the building, but they are busy filling out Cooperation Forms before they proceed. Red Alert trudges back to the shuttle, ignoring the scurrying.
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