On the Edge of a Knife

[Mirage]

Day 18, early. Open

---

Mirage reports rather promptly to Training Room C as Ultra Magnus specified. The spy has been out of quarantine less than twenty-four hours, and he's spent most of that time in the sim room, running scenarios that tax his skills and tech- or should. His skills have not changed, but the tech has, and Mirage almost is having to learn from scratch. It isn't that the new technology is so different; it's that Mirage has lived his entire live, worked up his entire hunting style, off having a cloak with a timeout and energy requirements.

He is still exhausted, and looks it, though he's no longer moving with obvious pain or limp; he's been fully repaired. The few times he's been forced by Perceptor into attempting rest, Mirage's mind was troubled with all sorts of irrational dreams. Never mind that his head is still killing him due to the coding conflict, and he's having to take a painkiller in his energon

Really, he has no business attempting this "training session" with Ultra Magnus.

Yet here he is.

"Hello, Magnus. I hope you are well."

---

Magnus already in the room ok'd w/ his player.

[Ultra Magnus]

Mirage's ragged edges – and there are plenty – stick out plain as his paint job to Magnus, long used to seeing the same brand of determined fatigue in his soldiers. Soldiers too weary to go on but too stubborn or devoted to stop. He's seen it in himself.

He watches Mirage walk in and even though there's no uneven gait, no wince, the spy is clearly tired.

"You're in no condition for this," Magnus pronounces, standing off-centre of the room with his arms crossed.

[Mirage]

Mirage shrugs, the movement still graceful and elegant despite the fatigue.

"I'm fine. If I can't sleep I'd rather be making some use of my time," he smiles slightly, "You, on the other hand, look much better than last time I saw you. Settling in, I take it?"

Mirage idly waves one hand and repeats, "I'll be fine. How do you want to start this?"

[Ultra Magnus]

"You should probably be making use of it on a berth, recovering," Magnus rumbles, displeased with the development in spite of Mirage's reassurances. "When I agreed, I didn't realise you were this run-down. So I suppose," he pauses to shift his weight and rest his hands on his hips, "we can start this with you explaining why it's so blasted important to do this right now and where you think it's going to get you in your current state." He'll wait for an explanation, too, until Mirage either gives one or gets fed up.

[Mirage]

Mirage's optics narrow, and his lips draw into a thin line. "I said I couldn't get a proper rest, Magnus. I tried. I am physically well and have been cleared for activity by Perceptor." Though the scientist would certainly revoke that clearance if he knew Mirage wasn't getting rest. "I am not going to lay about and stare at the ceiling."

"Emirate Xaaron wants me to give this new cloaking technology a thorough workout. I am interested in how your Diffusion arts will serve you against a cloaked opponent, and also interested in increasing my own skills."

Mirage shifts his weight to the opposite leg, optics focusing on a point over Magnus's right shoulder. "I need to better them. I'll not have another mess like that."

[Ultra Magnus]

"So I'm a test dummy now, is it?" wonders Magnus a little too bitterly. He hasn't forgotten that high-handed attitude Mirage took with him in their last conversation. "Or are my violent Wrecker habits only palatable when it suits you?" He shakes his head and adds, "Fine then." His voice steadies as he eases into a ready stance – nothing formal, no posture, no careful attention to foot placement. He is simply ready. "You've been duly cautioned. Whenever you can get your fool head on straight enough to begin."

[Mirage]

Mirage sighs. His posture slumps as he brings the heel of one hand up and rests it against his forehead.

"Magnus, that isn't what I meant. I-" Mirage stops before the almost desperate edge of exasperation creeps fully into his voice. He's so tired of this.

When Ultra Magnus assumes his stance, Mirage lowers his hand. "Fine then. Given your obviously low opinion of me, I'm sure you'll enjoy dropping me on my aft repeatedly. Perhaps we'll even both learn something."

Mirage disappears. He silently circles around the Wrecker, trying a leg sweep. He doesn't expect it to be successful; but he needs to see how Ultra Magnus moves.

OOC: Magnus, you have full permission to manhandle Mirage as needed for duration of this thread.

[Emirate Xaaron]

Emirate Xaaron has promised a few different people that he'll make himself less of a liability in combat. If he just wants to practise some basic moves, he doesn't need the whole sim room; one of the smaller rooms should be just fine, he figures. Emirate Xaaron absently opens up the door to Training Room C and pauses as he sees Ultra Magnus, apparently alone. Oh. Oh dear.

Emirate Xaaron takes a step back and apologises, "My apologies. I wasn't aware you were here. I shall leave you to your studies." He does not move off yet, hesitating. Ultra Magnus is one who bears further study. Will he explain what he's doing, or will he simply accept Emirate Xaaron's apology and let him be off?

[Ultra Magnus]

"If you don't want to be misinterpreted," Magnus says quietly as Mirage vanishes, "then you might want to think more carefully about the things you say." He quiets after that, listening. Mirage must step lightly indeed, for Magnus hears nothing until a split second before impact, and then only the sound of air rushing over plating. The leg sweep hits solidly and he shifts his weight against it, twisting slightly to drop of his own accord. Unless Mirage gets clear, Magnus will fall with his leg across Mirage's to pin the spy.

And then the door opens. Magnus looks up, not having expected someone else to show up.

"…Xaaron?" he blurts out, staring.

[Mirage]

Mirage's leg connects, Magnus turns, and Mirage borrows a move from his spars with Oracle, pivoting his upper body down, hands hitting the floor and flipping his leg over Ultra Magnus's head as the Wrecker drops. Mirage lands in a slight crouch, shifting off his cloak after Xaaron enters.

"I neither said you were merely a test dummy, nor did I say I found your presence unpalatable except under certain circumstances. You heard my words through the filter of your own self-hatred," Mirage snaps. Ultra Magnus isn't the only one who has to ride heard on his temper due to genetic programming.

He cuts his optics toward the Emirate, "Good cycle, Xaaron. I've yet to find those limits you were asking about."

Mirage disappears, circling Ultra Magnus once more.

[Emirate Xaaron]

Emirate Xaaron places his hands over his chest, where his Autobot symbol would be if he had one, a bit theatrically, smiles his most rakish, dazzling smile, and replies, "Emirate Xaaron? Only the last time I checked. Now, are you shadowboxing, or - oh!"

There's Mirage, who seems to be in a rather foul temper. Emirate Xaaron's mouth becomes a thin dashed line, and his brow arches. He calls back, "Speaking of filters, so you've done a full spectrum detection check?"

Ex-scientist, remember? Mirage may be invisible in the visible spectrum, but does IR pick him up? Ultraviolet? X-rays? Cosmic rays? Radio? There's a whole electro-magnetic spectrum out there!

Emirate Xaaron will have to ponder Mirage's comment about Ultra Magnus's self-hatred more later.

[Ultra Magnus]

"Shadow-boxing? No." Magnus leaves the explanation at that since Mirage conveniently removes the need and he leaves Xaaron to his own devices for the moment, having acknowledged him and been acknowledged in return. Mirage is… still too busy being the pride-pricked socialite to understand the point Magnus was trying to make. Or perhaps Magnus isn't being blunt enough in his words to get through Mirage's dense ego.

What Magnus hates most about it is that he's surprised.

"I'll explain it in small words then," he growls as he rises to his feet. "You scorn and look down on me because I'm a Wrecker and because I associated with violent parties, yet now, when you want to test your new toys…." He turns, having nothing to follow but too irritated to remain utterly still. "…You seek me out because of my training. I like that it's because I hate myself, not because I might find you just a little hypocritical." Alas, he has no specialised sensors or he'd put them to good use trying different spectra.

[Mirage]

Mirage switches to shortrange radio so as not to give his position away prematurely. He keeps it on the Autobot channel though, so Xaaron can certainly follow the conversation. After all, the Emirate walked in on the argument; no point in excluding him now. IN fact, he answers Xaaron first.

// No change there. It still only works on the visible spectrum. IR can find me, or any of the others.//

//I have never said that, Magnus,// he repeats after a moment, silently circling the Wrecker again, //You struck me with no provocation except that I didn't react in a way you thought I ought. I commented that perhaps it was a result of your more recent companions, meaning Shockwave's forces under your glorious and peaceful Cybertron. What encouragement does that give me to seek you out socially, no matter how much I might wish to do so?//

From directly behind Magnus, Mirage makes a grab at Magnus's arm in an attempted throw, whispering bitterly as he does so.

"You're all I have of home, Ultra Magnus."

[Emirate Xaaron]

Okay, so he's walked in on Mirage and Ultra Magnus insulting each other and Mirage emotional whiplashing all the way to bitter wistfulness from haughty pride.

Emirate Xaaron pinches the bridge of his nose, making a face, and he remarks, "...if this was my reality, I'd ask if your emotional dampers were functioning properly."

This is like a trainwreck. He really should go. He's accomplishing nothing. Yet there's something awfully compelling about the display.

[Ultra Magnus]

Mirage's grip settles on his arm and Magnus reacts with the instincts of many vorns' practise, dropping to lower his centre of gravity as Mirage pulls on him and using that tug. He grabs Mirage's arm with his free hand and turns the spy's pull into a throw of his own, flipping Mirage over his shoulder and to the floor. He keeps one hand firm on the still-cloaked form.

"As I explained, your home is long gone… and I'm not yours,," he mutters so low only Mirage should hear. Then, in spite of the urge to start beating Mirage into the deck, he slowly stands and looks at Xaaron as he backs away from his opponent. "My emotional dampers are in perfect working order."