Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jun 2, 2010 10:02:30 GMT -5
//I did not say I wanted to attempt a timed run,// Wreckage says in a dangerous tone, patience threatening to wear sorely thin.
To avert further irritation with his erstwhile instructor – Misfire is decent enough that Wreckage will at least attempt not to actively dislike him – the frontliner pitches himself off his perch, tumbling into secondary mode. He remains far from agile, but the stationary obstacles are clustered only just loosely enough that he can manoeuvre around them. Instinct tells him to rush through and break it all down. Instinct can go hang; Misfire warned him, however obliquely, that the course might change. He has to remain alert.
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Jun 2, 2010 22:48:35 GMT -5
Misfire sighs over the radio, //You know, Wreckage, you take things too damn literally sometimes. I was making an observation, not saying you were wanting a timed run.//
He types a few commands into the console.
//All right. I'm upping the light level a bit for this first run.// He tries to upload a map file to Wreckage, one that shows the entirely of the maze as it sits at the moment. It only shows the path, however, not the obstacles.
//See the open section in the upper right? You need to get there. This low a level, the sim won't be shifting walls or anything on you, but it will be adapting the obstacles to your flight style. So watch it.//
About that time, spikes shoot down from the ceiling a short way ahead of Wreckage, forming bars equidistant apart across the entire path. He can get through, but he'll have to change orientation to do it.
And quick.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jun 6, 2010 10:11:46 GMT -5
"…I have no style," mutters the distinctly unhappy Berkut. That map is dutifully examined and filed away for future reference. Wreckage would take more time on it, but he has a small problem looming before him. More than one problem, he notes with a low, heavily muffled growl. He can only barely manage turns; flying perpendicular to whatever amounts to the ground in here so he might fit himself between those bars is out of the question. He assumes Misfire is either oblivious or sadistic.
The latter seems more likely, he thinks. He has no idea if he can cut the bars if he transforms – his swords are only so sharp – but that may be the only way through for him. He slows and turns as sharply as he is able, trying to double back so he can approach again.
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Jun 7, 2010 0:24:52 GMT -5
Hey, Misfire told Wreckage the sim adapts and changes! He isn't the one who told it to bar the Berkut's way!
He sighs over the radio, //Man, you should have just tried it. Now it'll know you're hesitant about the move, and toss more of the same you're way. Crashing is way better than not trying in this thing. Seriously.//
//It's not that hard a move, but doing it at half speed ain't gonna cut it. You're a melee fighter; you know timing and balance. It's just like timing the perfect strike, hitting that sweet spot when opportunity presents and making the kill.//
//Look..you sure you don't want me in there? I can at least give you a demo of stuff like that.//
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jun 7, 2010 2:08:02 GMT -5
//Enough.// That one word is all Wreckage says, sharp and cold, before he lumbers around once more to face those bars. Then he accelerates and climbs at the same time. Destruction, not finesse, is what comes naturally to him; his exacting nature and constant drive for precision and care are carefully, painfully cultivated habits. He wants to get this manoeuvre right and knowing that he cannot only deepens his frustration. Misfire further exacerbates the matter.
Wreckage transforms almost too late. His swords slide out from their housings and he cuts a gap in the bar directly in front of him – quick, neat, and nothing like his subsequent downward tumble. Returning to secondary mode is much less smooth than the initial transformation.
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Jun 7, 2010 23:35:34 GMT -5
Misfire's jaw drops as he watches Wreckage hacks through the obstacle, then clumsily transform and continue on the course.
//I...but...GAH!!!//
Misfire is twitching.
//That isn't the point of the exercise!//
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jun 7, 2010 23:56:18 GMT -5
//You wanted me through the obstacle.// Wreckage begins a laborious climb once his tailfins lock into place. It takes effort to veer around the horizontal bars while he still has to regain orientation. //I am through the obstacle.//
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Jun 8, 2010 19:07:14 GMT -5
//You're supposed to be doing flight maneuvers!//
Misfire is darn close to flailing at the terminal. He's run this course, at the highest setting, more times than he can count. It's almost a sacred thing for him.
Misfire watching Wreckage essentially spit on its purpose is like Swerve watching someone jackhammer brand-new blacktop for sport.
His hands clench into fists, and he continues, voice strained but calmer, //But now that you've done that, be prepared for the course to fight back, so to speak. It's programmed to be as adaptive as the real thing, so it's probably gonna keep tossing more things like that at you.//
//Unless you want me to dumb it down for you.//
Why yes. Misfire is deliberately trying to push Wreckage's buttons now.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jun 8, 2010 21:04:07 GMT -5
Wreckage finds he likes the idea of the course fighting back. He cannot – will not, for the sake of the unit – take out his frustrations on Misfire. Misfire may be the one who led him here, but he did not force Wreckage to agree to this training. Nor is Misfire responsible for confusing him with a kiss in the first place, addling his processors, putting him off balance–
Distracting him from the course. The course that has decided to retaliate, a horizontal bar rushing out where there was none before and striking him full in the side. The impact sends him veering wildly, clipping first a wall, then a platform, with his left wing. The armour he is long accustomed to having is not with him in this form, stretched out across a vehicle much larger than the Stryker, and his wing crumples. Toward the floor he plummets again.
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Jun 10, 2010 11:28:13 GMT -5
"Primus fraggit all to the Pit!"
Misfire watches Wreckage fall without the sense of satisfaction that some Decepticons might feel. This wasn't what Misfire wanted. It wasn't what he intended when he talked Wreckage into this exercise. Misfire just wanted to help Wreckage learn how to handle the asset of a flying mode, and maybe convince the frontliner that wings aren't so bad.
He didn't want to watch Wreckage get his aft kicked by a simulation.
A set of spikes slide out from the side. Wreckage could probably grab one, if he transforms quickly enough, and keep himself from hitting the floor.
//Do you want me to turn it off?// he asks, voice soft.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jun 10, 2010 23:44:43 GMT -5
Wreckage does indeed transform once again; that damaged wing jams up for a moment, leaving him catching a spike one-handed. His shoulder squeals with the strain of abruptly stopping his mass at high speed, but the expression on his face is not a pained one. It is, in fact, almost a smirk.
//No,// he tells Misfire in an indulgent tone even as he hangs there. //It is becoming… interesting.//
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Jun 11, 2010 22:11:46 GMT -5
//Oookay, then. It won't shut down on its own 'til you make the objective.// Misfire says, feeling better now. Wreckage seems more interested in the challenge now, and that's good.
Though Misfire somehow doubts the frontliner is going to be flying the course as it's meant to be flown.
The spikes start to retract. Slowly.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jun 14, 2010 23:23:23 GMT -5
Wreckage waits even while his handhold threatens to vanish. He waits as that mangled wingtip slowly, slowly mends itself, self-repair working to correct the damage and free his other arm, and he wonders what else the course will have in store for him. He wonders, too, why Misfire sounded the way he did just a moment ago.
//…You were worried,// Wreckage concludes abruptly. He can almost clear his arm now; a good thing. The wall is getting much too close.
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Post by Misfire on Jun 15, 2010 10:15:39 GMT -5
//Yeah// Misfire replies, making no attempt to pretend otherwise, //I wanted to help you get better at flying, not watch you get beaten up. I'm not like that.//
Well. He tries not to be like that. Peer pressure is a nasty, nasty, thing.
//It may not be real, but damn sure feels and looks real, after all.//
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jun 15, 2010 18:53:11 GMT -5
//Hn.// Wreckage does not ask Misfire why; that is Misfire's business and Misfire's alone. He shrugs off the thought – and frees his pinned arm in the same motion. Almost without pause, he begins scaling what remains of the spikes, seeking more elevation before he pushes himself away from the wall and transforms again. He will at least try to stay in secondary mode this time.
His pace is less cautious, but he keeps his sensors alert for changes.
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