@rxllingheads The warehouse was barely lit, figures inside scrambling to get things organized, cages set up, counting rooms designated, the usual for a illegal auction. The shipments were supposed to be coming in, guns, jewels, slaves, the spoils of a war-torn country who's name have been lost. Up in the walkway, the footsteps of Ottomo ring out, cigar smoke hanging from the lanky machine. The Robot's golden "eyes" stand out from the darkness, glaring at the messy organizing going on bellow....