Meeting the Queen

++ Vos ++

Set high on the edge of a mountain ridge, Vos is a gleaming spire of silver
and metallic blues rising high into the heavens. Central to the region is
the Vosian Citadel, home of the Cybertronian Air Command, the training
grounds and headquarters of the planetary air force. Composed of multiple
towers, spires, obelisks and domed needles, the air through the region and
around the polity itself is filled with wings of flying Cybertronians of
all kinds that dart in and out among the many landing platforms like flocks
of birds.

Far beneath the aeries, closer to the planet's surface, are industrial
centers that link the city to the rest of the planet through roads, bridges
and mushroom-shaped generator complexes. Vos is rich in energy resources,
making it almost completely independent from the rest of the world; these
energy resources are mined, worked and processed by lower-caste laborers
who cannot fly upwards towards the city's more luxurious heights.

Contents:
Blast Off, Space Shuttle
Bombshell
Vosian Citadel

Exits:
NE [Thunderhead Pass]                   S [Polyhex]
N [Nova Cronum]                        E [Mithril Sea]
W [Praxus]

Upon the soaring heights of Vos' decadently crafted buildings, busy flying Cybertronians went to and fro with their petty concerns, almost blissfully unaware of a most peculiar visitor. Bombshell had found the city thanks to Starscream and has since made it a regular spot for high end equipment and simply the finest energon, both of which purchased on the budget of those who so 'unexpectedly' donated their entire life's savings to the Warper. Something was indeed different this day though, for the feral instincts long unfelt bubbled back up to the processor of Bombshell. He could feel something, a presence he was compelled to seek, no doubt a Queen. Pushing through the vast crowds Bombshell made haste towards the source of the sudden burst of primal agitation.

The nerve of Sentinel Prime, making her wait like this! It truly was agitating, but at least it gave her a chance to tour the cities of Cybertron and partake of the culture and fineries it has to offer. So far it was going.. not as smoothly as she had envisioned. Almost everywhere she's been so far she and her personal party would recieve odd looks and barely veiled disgust when being spoken to. It was.. annoying.

"The state of Cybertron's relationship it's Insecticon residents isn't quite what I expected. In fact it's rather disappointing." Scorn notes to herself when walking along one of Vos' more uppercrust sidewalks, a small ant-like tapebot at her side while two massive beetle bodyguards flank her a step behind. The only non-Insecticon traveling with her is her provided guide, a blue and gold jet who doesn't look too happy to be here.

"Treated like pets and slaves. Utterly appauling. Even we treat our lowest of workers better." The mantis scoffs when moving through a crowd that parts for her immediately, if only to get out of the way of the big mechs. "It's also very puzzling as to why Sentinel Prime saw fit to station himself in Kaon. The city is an utter pit." There's no haughtiness in her tone as she goes on about the planets' problems, remaining level as if she's stating facts. She about to speak further, but somthing in the air just has her stop and raise a hand to halt her company as she scans the crowd, yellow optics flicking about and antennas twitching. "Hmm.."

Pushing two rather hefty jets out of the way, Bombshell finally made it to his destination. From behind his visor, crimson optics made out the first images of the queen, elegant, powerful, and free, it almost brought him weakness to see a live one. No doubt her guards were already reaching for weapons as his signals showed him as a very powerful Warper. Quickly he made his way to the monarch, at least close enough that her guards stepped forward and in the best sign of respect he could manage, he dropped to one knee and lowered his helm, bowing before Scorn. "I am Bombshell, Master Warper" and indeed he was much larger and far more advanced than the standard Warpers that scurried about in the dark corners of hives.

Tension in the air spikes the instant her guard feels the incoming presence of a foreign Insecticon, their massive bulk lumbering in front of her and holding their halberds forward with surprising speed. Any and all Vosians have since cleared the area, not wanting to get up in some sort of bug fight.

With the sharp tips of their weapons nearly touching the kneeling mech's throat, warnings in wavespeech ripple from them until the voice of the Queen herself overrules them like a thick, foreboding cloud of lightning. The two grunt in response and retract their weapons, allowing Scorn, who had yet to move an inch, steps forward. "So there truly are some among you who speak the Galactic tongue. I'd almost given up hope that this planet was nothing but drones."

Hooded optics overlook Bombshell carefully, reserved expression only allowed the faintest of smirks. "And a warper, too. Such a rarity.. Rise, Bombshell, and tell me why you come to me today. With the state of our kin I would imagine this is a great risk for you." The drones surely flocked with excitement during her travels, but to see a self-aware in the open, and a warper at that, is a treat.

"Your grace, long have the enlightened among Cybertron's insecticon race battled the cruel and oppressive governing class. they set fire to our hives or even worse they target our Queens to force their subjects into blind submission." Bombshell does as instructed and rises before the queen. "To put things simply you are in grave danger. Their senate, their leaders they can't have loose ends, and a living example of how we are not fools or monsters, might disillusion the populous that their pets can't really feel anything." the Warper's visor flashed a few times, giving him a rough scan of the Queen, it seemed she was part of a impressively long line. Of course, he wasn't going to tell her about his genocidal schemes but none the less any true Insecticon was indeed in harms way as the ruling party were unlikely to wish to keep this particular femme around for any longer than they had too.

"Mm, so I've begun to gather.." Scorn's gaze falls sidelong in thought for only a moment before she addresses Bombshell again. "I have my doubts they would attempt to dispatch me, as doing so would enrage my homeworld, but you raise a good point. ..Bombshell, perhaps we can help each other, then." She nods down to the ant mech beside her.

Immediately the small Insecticon steps forward and holds up a datapad to Bombshell, showing a mech very similar to Cheetor, but with animalistic features. "I've come to Cybertron in search of a mech who goes by the name Cheetor. Should you have, or find, any information about him then I will greatly appreciate it. In return I will bring up the state of our kin to Sentinel Prime. It's a sickening situation, but it is one I must tread around carefully, so I must look fully into the issues first before thinking of lending my aid." With that said she begins to stride past him with her posse in tow. "Come, walk with me."

Prefering to walk and talk instead of stand around while people stare, Scorn soon speaks again once they're on their way. "Tell me of the state of things outside the cities. You say they destroy the hives, but how many are still standing? How strong are our forces, currently? It must not be much if there hasn't been rebellion."

Prowl has arrived.

Vos holds meaning to more than jets, alien ships, and the general citizenry of the grand city. There is a certain shuttleformer who once called this place home- before he lost his job, his money, his... everything and found himself scrounging a new, much more impoverished life in Kaon. A life without any of the comforts he was used to as a member of the HIGH CASTE. Now a fugitive from the law, he has to stay in Kaon most of the time.

But every now and then, despite the risks, Blast Off comes back here. Vos is culture to him- it's what ONCE was home, and still feels more like home than anything he finds in the grime and grit of Kaon. And he thirsts for that- and he really, really, REALLY misses the wine. It's been FAR too long. Ultimately, that brings him back here today- the need to get out of Kaon even for a little bit, and try to remember that he once belonged in a grand place such as this. He picks his way through a backalley, trying to keep a low profile.

Cheetor? Strange indeed, wait, did she say Sentinel Prime? "You can get close to Prime?" he asked curiously, though by the tone he didn't think very highly of the leader. "I've been hunting him for some time, to repay him for my time in the experiment chambers." it was true he hated Sentinel more than anything and would do anything to destroy the mech. Walking beside the Queen Bombshell looks to her entourage. "Your escort is the most armed insecticons i've ever seen, to put it plainly we've been successfully subjugated they made my brother Shrapnel a mine slave, and my other brother Kickback into a pet. As for myself..I've been subject to experimentation for most of my life. It's become desperate, we are nothing to them, a laughing stock of the universe." he seemed sincerely distressed which any sincerity from the bug was rare enough. Still her planet sounded nice, free Insecticons, who would have thought?

Scorn would make her way towards the shopping districts during their stroll, ready to find a more comfortable setting to speak further. Luckily several cafes line the street, Scorn's guards clicking their vocals to move any Vosians out of the way while she takes a table for herself and sits, waving for Bombshell to join her. During all of this her Cybertronian guide tries to calm the owner of the establishment, though Scorn doesn't appear bothered with his opinions.

"Close enough, I suppose. I'm simply here to speak with him as a diplomat for my planet's Emperor, as this Cheetor is of great importance to him." At the mention of her enterage she actually smirks and leans back in her chair, folding hands neatly across her lap. "Thank you. There are many more under my command back home, but Rend and Gore are my most trusted."

As for talk of his siblings, Scorn hums faintly in thought and looks him over. "Your brothers.. What would you do to have them by your side again?" This is where her tone gains a darker edge, clearly planning something for the warper, though she can't help a slight smile at his last comment. "Far from it, my dear Bombshell. Were you to leave this planet you would find our kind to be both feared and respected. This Clampdown has done just as intended, made you blind to the outside, but perhaps you may yet find a way to see past it and join the rest of the galaxy.."

Blast Off makes his way through an alley, finding himself at the edge of a set of cafes. It seems a large number of Vosians suddenly make their way past him, and he ducks back a ways to avoid most of their gaze. Once the exodus is gone, he reemerges and looks into the plaza. And there he is met with an odd sight. Insecticons- SEVERAL Insecticons. But they aren;t the scruffy and scraping ones he usually meets- no, they look rather proud and regal. One in particular catches his optics- a femme with a certain poise to her. One (former) High caste can recognize another. Looking at her entourage, it appears she's QUITE High caste. That's when he remembers having heard something about a convoy from off planet? That was here, wasn't it? Somewhere.... from /out there/. He glances upwards, space still calling to him, as it always does. How he longs to fly through space again- and here are some who just did. Some unaffected by the Clampdown.

Blast Off is torn between fascination regarding the out of this world opulence he sees.... and a wrenching revulsion at INSECTICONS. And it's worse than it was before. before, he was mildly repulsed. Now, he has a true fear reaction, but... but why?

That's when he spots \*Bombshell.\* The shuttle freezes, and can't completely push down the wave of cold fear he feels. But... why? He leans back into the shadows to regain his equilibrium. But there's one final little piece to his mess.... that's when he spots the wine bottle someone left on a cafe table in their haste to leave. The shuttle stares at it longingly, but doesn't dare to move... not yet.

Bombshell looks to her curiously, "Shrapnel is free your highness, though that change is incredibly recent and i'm afraid Kickback may never accept true freedom." perhaps he should word things better, was he flustered? Did she make him as such? "Our Queen, she was sliced apart as a warning to the rest of my hive, that's the world I live on, even among my own the experiments have made a freak of me, tell me than, where in the universe would I be considered normal?" a leader above the Queen? The more they chatted the more interested Bombshell become in whatever planet it was that she hailed from.

"Forgive me, I assumed this Shrapnel was still held. As for Kickback, it's hard to believe one would reject freedom. Has he become so content in the role of a pet that he forgets himself?" This earns a scrutinous stare, those sharp yellow optics boring into Bombshell. Scorn may not be a warper, but all Queens have their own little brand of psychological warfare, in a sense, when it comes to those beneath them. But her gaze doesn't last long, its intensity softening. "My condolences to your Queen, but that just means you are free to choose another. Experiment or not, I find you.. curious, Bombshell. And I would offer you a place on Animatron in my kingdom, if you're so inclined. The same would extend to Shrapnel. You need only swear fealty to me."

Meanwhile, Blast Off may find it troublesome getting to that wine bottle as Rend and Gore keep watch on each side of the cafe, making slow rounds to keep people at bay. He's either going to need to be very sneaky or very smart.

Sadly for Blast off- shuttles aren't exactly the sneakiest of individuals. He stands there, frowning under his faceplate and wondering \*why\* Bombshell makes him so nervous. That whole fight is a hazy memory, and somehow.... he's still not sure... he DID lose. Badly. There's a glance down to his feet- which were specialized rockets he needs to fly properly through space. And somehow they were both blasted to smithereens. He has replacements, but not great ones- and specialized parts like those are hard to find. Maybe he should just leave....

Then a combination of \*pride\* and the desire for that bottle of wine compels him to stay. Slag it, he didn't come all the way here to lose out now. Optics narrow, and he decides to take action. A quick glance around and.... he spies an apron from one of the cafe servers nearby, also left behind. If he can just dress in that, walk over, take the wine while looking like a cafe worker and leave without anyone noticing him (and why would they take any notice of a server)?.... He just might pull this off. So that's what he does- he takes the apron, dons it, and proceeds to slowly, casually, make his way to the bottle- trying to look like a simple worker going about his business. Just- a simple worker with an especially /regal air all his own/- he's still High caste, at least at spark.

Bombshell's head hands as he thinks of Kickback's change of heart towards his masters. "He is a fool, but he is still my Brother." upon her offer of kingdom he looks curiously to the leader, I would but..there is something I must do first, it's very important for the survival of Cybertron." of course he meant the slaughter of millions but in a way that's how resources were to be saved in his optics at least. "When my plans do come to fruition however, I wouldn't suggest being near this planet, there isn't going to be a few place left," as the spider had said it was up to the insecticons to carry on the legacy of Mortalis, and restore the balance.
As Blast Off makes his way toward his precious drink, he may or may not notice that there is a holopanel sign on the wall with his face on it, as well as the symbol of the First Face stamped in a corner. The notice makes it very clear that he is a wanted mech, and that the state has promised handsome rewards for any useful intel on his whereabouts.

Scorn's brows loft over half-mast optics in curiousity to his answer. "Is that so? Well then, so be it. My offer will remaining standing once you've finished your business, so do think it over." A pause before she continues, her tone more careful. "I cannot promise my involvement in these Cybertronian affairs until my own mission is complete, but I can certaintly.. look into them. My door is open to you and your kin, Bombshell, so seek me out should you need it." Antennas twitch after that, picking up a disturbance from Rend that forces her to crane her head slightly and look out of the corner of an optic in his direction.

Not caring about some bounty, Rend is far more concerned with protecting his Queen, so Blast Off will very quickly find a massive hercules beetle stepping in front of him with halberd at his side. "The Queen has ordered no one to disturb her." He snarls, apparently a self-aware as well. "Be gone with you." Scorn raises a brow at this, eyes the apron, then the feet, and lets a subtle smirk play across her face for only a second. "Leave him, Rend." She commands in an even voice that instantly forces the beetle to fall back with a grunt. Seems the Queen is taking pity on the shuttle. Lucky him.

"Thank you your high-" the sudden change causes Bombshell to look over towards the massive beetle, than to, well what a coincidence. A dark chuckling emits from Bombshell as he looks back to Scorn, "No fear, he's one of my play things." and with that the smaller insecticon makes his way over to the shuttle. "Blast Off my old friend, what are the odds of meeting you here?" he asks moving in just close enough to make it uncomfortable. "How's the healing?" Seems the shuttle's life is horrible, though life's mercy shined upon him as the Queen spared him, but life just as quickly kicked his aft by placing Bombshell there as well.

Blast Off is making his way towards the bottle when he happens to glance over and see- that sign. The Combaticon flinches slightly. SLAAAAG. His fuel pump races a little faster, despite himself, and he glances quickly around to see if anyone's spotted him- and THAT. His first reacction is duck his head down and start turning away....but his gaze drifts back to the bottle. It's been so long... He begins shifting back towards that sweet nectar, then pausing again. Another scan of the area, then he tries to keep his face down as he heads to the wine. HE WILL SUCCEED! He's a COmbaticon! He's a shuttle! He's a space warrior! He's....

Been spotted. The shuttle stops abruptly as a massive beetle blocks his path. Again, he feels an uncharacteristsic wave of fear that he once more must stomp down. The fear, not the bug, 'cause that guys's HUGE. His violet optics dart from the beetle to Scorn as she speaks. There's a glance at Bombshell to see if the Insecticon has recognized him, and Blast Off once more tries to make his face less visable- not that that's easy. He doesn't want to speak, given his accent would probably give him away if Bombshell hasn't already picked up on who he is. He simply points to the wine bottle, nods politely to Scorn, and attempts to move twoards it, pick it up, and go.

That.... doesn't work however. (But yes, when DO things go well for the shuttle these days anyway?) He freezes as Bombshell approaches, his desire to keep his pride intact clashing with the strange fear welling up inside. So NOT befitting a Combaticon warrior. He tries to maintain a confident, haughty demeanor- though it falters as he leans back and wing elevons twitch in nervous reflex. "I'm a Combaticon. I've had much worse." He HOPES that sounded reasonably unafraid. "Surely you are busy with...." He blinks and look at Scorn. "I... do not believe I am acquainted." Still congnizant of her obvious high status, he tries to give her a polite, courteous nod, then get back to that bottle- so he can LEAVE.

"Play thing? How curious." Scorn muses and watches Bombshell and Blast Off speak until she notices the latter's gaze upon the wine bottle. Without a second thought she stands and speaks to Deadlift, her assistant, in wave to go grab said bottle. With the wine in hand he follows the mantis as she makes her way over, her steps calm and graceful while carrying her along with a regal, if not overshadowing, air.

"I am Scorn, High Insecticon Queen of Animatron and diplomat to Emperor Victory Leo. A pleasure, Combaticon." No smile graces her face when addressing herself. Exotic features remain flat as stone with the strong hint of judgement burning behind hooded optics when looking down at him and laxly holding her hand out, palm down. "I believe you were looking for this, yes?" Deadlift steps forward to offers the bottle and pipes up, "A gift from her Highness."

At that very moment, the doors to the cafe slide open and someone familiar steps in. Scorn and her people might not recognize him, but everyone who's been on Cybertron for any appreciable amount of time would easily identify its chief of security and second only to Sentinel Prime himself.

And right when Blast Off had been about to receive that coveted drink of his....does he run? Does he hide? Or does he stick it out and hope he can take the bottle before the long arm of the law sees him?
Bombshell seemed almost amused by the situation, Blast Off didn't know it, but Bombshell owned his aft, every secret, every lie Blast Off had told him everything. Upon the Queen's approach Bombshell looked back to the Queen. "You know Blast off-" Bombshell stated quietly to the shuttle "I could always tell her who you are, make a fuss bring in every officer from here to the capitol, so if I were you, i'd drop the regal act and start groveling like the worm you are." yes Bombshell wanted amusement from a Mech he all but tortured, the Warpers took special joy in such games.

Blast Off stands there uncertainly, still trying to make his pride and dignity win the battle over fear and the feeling of fish-out-of-water-ness.... when Scorn surprises him. He tenses as she has the bottle taken- and then ....brought to him? The Combaticon watches her step closer, trying to get a measure of this situation and the golden-eyed femme standing before him. It's been a long time since Blast Off had any dealings with royalty, and usually only through the Primal Vanguard- and letting Onslaught take care of the niceeties. It's not like the shuttle is especially socially adept. But still... he was High Caste, and with it come certain understandings...

Before he can think how to react, and as if Bombshell being here wasn't bad enough- PROWL decides to show up. The Fugitive's fuel pump DOES skip a cycle, and he freezes. Then just to make it worse, Bombshell comes to rub it all in....

That's IT. It may ultimately cost him his life someday, maybe today in fact, but the shuttle's pride, his ego, is no small thing. Wise reaction or not, fear or not, his violet optics flash a deep purple at the Insecticon. "I am no WORM. I am a space shuttle, meant to soar in the skies- and beyond!" He keeps his voice low, but not THAT low. "However...." Trying to think of the best course of action, he decides on one. "I am also a /gentlemech/." He turns to the Queen and bows to her deeply and, as a gentlemech would, he takes the proffered hand for a quick "kiss" (through faceplate, at least). "And as a mech of class and culture, I find showing some \*manners\* to be a trait sadly lacking in most of the populace."

He keeps bowed- but it's not so much for Scorn now, as to try to escape being noticed by Prowl. If he's bowed, Prowl won't see his face, right? "My thanks, Scorn, High Insecticon Queen of Animatron." He keeps his voice formal, his voice displaying its characteristic cutlured accent.

Now /that's/ how you appeal to a queen. Cybertron has been lacking in courtly graces since the moment she landed, so it's extremely satisfying to see Blast Off display such manners in her presence, as well as Bombshell earlier. She enjoys it so much so that the mech earns a cool, pleased smile. "A gentlemech indeed. But you'll have to thank me later. My guard will see you out the back way." She gently retracts her hand and looks to Gore, who follows behind Rend and Prowl, and wavespeaks to him, <<Show our fugitive here to the back door, if he wishes. And Bombshell, do be careful here.>>

Now onto bigger fish. Blast Off's existance temporarily leaves her mind the moment she steps past him and approaches Prowl, greeting him with the tamed smile of noble. "You must be Officer Prowl, second to Sentinel Prime. What a coincidence meeting you here." Yes, she knows who he is. A diplomat would be foolish not to read up on the heirarchy of the planet they're visiting.

Gore huffs faintly under his vocals and lumbers forward, eyeballing Blast Off with a sour look before nudging him to the back.

"Scorn." Prowl nods briefly toward the Animatronian diplomat and her bodyguards. Bombshell and Blast Off are in luck today...though it isn't as if he -didn't- notice them. What kind of officer would he be if he couldn't even recognize people on the most wanted list? But if Prowl is anything, he's patient. It's one trait that many of the other Autobots are lacking. He already has people working to apprehend these criminals--they may still have valuable information that could be tricked out of them. Thus, for now, he leaves them be.

Instead, he focuses on the Insecticon queen. "That is correct." he says blandly. A coincidence? Probably not. He was probably looking for her. Or, you know, spying on her.

Blast Off straightens again, and glances over to Scorn's guard, an optic ridge lifting slightly. The guard will see him out? That's an unexpected good bit of news.... Perhaps he will get out of this intact and free after all. And Bombshell flies off... the Combaticon hates to admit it (so he mostly doesn't)...but he's relieved to see him go. Turning to the Queen, Blast Off holds his wine and gives her another, now actually somewhat truly \*thankful\* nod. "It was... truly a pleasure." Then he heads off with the massive beetle towards the back exit- and with a bottle of wine, sweet sweet wine, in hand.

"Well, a pleasure to meet you. You'll have to forgive me for being brief, but I have a few other things to attend to today. I'm sure you understand." Scorn bows her head slightly to him. "But rest assured, I'm sure we'll meet again soon. Have a good day, officer." With her posse at her back, the mantis slips past Prowl and exits the cafe, likely to meet up with Gore once he comes back around the building.