god this took too long>>5900442>>5900474>>5900494>>5900763You've never met a bouncer, but this guy looks like he has a very short temper and a shorter tolerance for bullshit. It's best to not slap him with a wad of of bureaucratic red tape and slip this one in under the radar. "Ah! Yeah! These guys have a dancing robot they want to test out."
Riley jogged up behind you. "Ah, Fiona!?"
The bouncer, a large almost pot bellied bear of a man with fluffy pale blonde hair and a bushy beard, cocked his head in curiosity. "A dancing... robot?"
The Red Dog's leader walked up, very thankful he was wearing his shades. "Well. No, Fiona, that's not what I told you it was. It's a drone, for our pal, Jerry? You know, <span class="mu-i">Jerry,</span> with the <span class="mu-i">broken legs?</span>"
The comment had you stunned for a second. But just for a second! You have the <span class="mu-b"><span class="mu-i">cunning</span></span> of your own to catch onto his gist.
Playing the fool, you reply in somewhat earnest. "B-but you said it was going to be a dancing machine..."
Sighing in frustration, the American turned to the bouncer. "Hi. One of our guys couldn't show up today... <span class="mu-i">in person.</span>" The commander turned to the static drone and took off his aviator shades. His manner of speaking slowed. "Thankfully the man's a genius. Right now, it takes a special kind of smart to remotely control a drone as well as he can, from just brain waves." Casting a glance at you, clicks his tongue. "And yes, he is a dancing machine."
The machine stood still for a moment, before breaking into fluid and almost human motion. With this sudden burst of vitality came an unexpected voice - a natural, if a bit squeaky, human voice erupted from its speakers rather than its robotic chirps. "I-I'm sorry, I had myself muted. Hello! Hi, hi, I'm Jerry. I am piloting this drone, from my residence."
With eyes filled with caution yet not totally without amusement, the bouncer turned to the commander. "Is it armed?"
"Completely," Mikey replied. "And it's not a hassle to move around should anything happen. Fiona, pick him up."
The drone was about your size and clearly made with several metal parts, and girding your pantlegs you were prepared to spend great effort into lifting it. As you grasped the groin and chest and lifted up, it almost slipped from your grasp with the speed of which it rose. The machine must have been thoroughly stripped since your last encounter with it, because this featherweight is not what broke free from your grasp. There still remains a hefty center of gravity in its core where the battery and bioenergy converter system likely remain, but you're almost ashamed to say it's <span class="mu-i">lighter than you</span> once it's stripped of its pneumatic jets and whatever else it had removed.
