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✙☤— || ‘You get in, you get out’.
That was her set of instructions. Simple, to the point, and something she’d deemed too easy. Her first ‘reconnaissance mission’, as Tarn had deemed it. Just go into the heavily populated area, take a look around, and, of course, don’t forget to visit the bar. Because, apparently, a good portion of Decepticons had been “useless, no-good, drunks.”
Three steps all with the goal of finding out just how outdated their information was on their next target.
In reality, though, she’d just offered herself up as a, quote on quote, “”spy”” so the five would stop bickering on the “best course of action”.
The first part of the “mission” was useless. Thousands of bots and creatures of different sizes wandering the streets and shoving past each other without so much as a second glance– without any concern towards one another.
Needless to say, the femme already had a comm-link open the moment she shoved her way into the bar. However, it doesn’t even ping once before it’s shut down. Someone had wandered right into a good ol’ fashioned bar brawl.
"Uh oh," she releases, just a quiet little rush of air before her optics snap from the scene in front of her to focus on two rather large projectiles tumbling over a table, “Uh oh.”
Since when did bar fights actually become a thing?