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| - Within the huge Arena is a smaller section for holo combat, for those who would rather hone their skills than settle a score. Unlike the rest of the arena, this completely-enclosed area is painted with a dull black finish and though completely windowless, it is not opaque. Video screens line the four metal walls in place of windows, allowing observers to watch the display of skill - or lack thereof. Contents: Killpuncher - Training Drone Obvious exits: Up leads to NCC Arena. Training Room: Your current profile has been saved. It will be restored when you exit the room. You can use !reset to reset yourself while inside the training room. Ruse emerges from the Shark's Rib. Ruse has arrived. Catechism doesn't make it to the training arena as much as she wishes she could. She just doesn't have time. Catechism tends to be busy busting cults, investigating creepy old spaceships, and getting into fights with really dangerous Autobots. However, training better prepares her to fight really dangerous Autobots, so she's made the time today. She looks the drone up and down, muttering, "So we meet again." Lifting her head as she hears a voice as she nears the door, Ruse peeks into the training area, brow ridge lifting slowly as she sees who it is. Not interrupting, not yet, she simply...watches. Catechism whirls at the sound of the door, almost as if she was twitchy, even paranoid. Oh, /there/ is her student. Catechism waves widely and barks, "Ruse! Consider yourself reassigned from whatever your current duty is. Get over here." "Not a fan of the droid, are you?" Ruse replies quietly as she steps further into the room, not commenting on being reassigned. Catechism wags a finger and notes, "That is an assumption! Now then. Your armaments. Give me the run-down. What are you packing?" Catechism looks Ruse up and down. Ruse's weapons are very important matters - Onslaught has assigned them to go dragon-hunting. "You haven't looked at my file?" That does seem to surprise Ruse as she comes to a stop in front of the other femme. "Nothing too unusual..." Catechism points out, "You're assuming again. Of course I've read your file. Just wanted to see what you'd admit to. Flash ray, corrosive blaster rifle... and then your alternate form." She pauses meaningfully. Ruse explains her other alts abilities quickly. "Asking for information we both know you already know does either of us little good." Catechism's expression quirks a bit, and she observes, "You are giving me the impression that you don't have much patience." She starts pacing. "Now. Your weapons would seem to indicate that you prefer ranged combat. Would you agree with that assessment?" "Ah, there is a difference between lacking patience, and viewing something as a waste of resources, of which time is one." Ruse replies with a tilt of her head. "Yes, ranged combat is my preference, when I fight." Catechism has observed that Ruse has a thing for efficiency or at least professes one. Needling Ruse about her patience and Ruse's defense again points to that trend. Catechism nods and notes, "Seekers are generally thought of as ranged combatants. You won't ever shock an Autobot, shooting him. Well. Unless you have a shock cannon. Different kind of shock, though. How do you feel about being a ranged combatant?" "I have not seen much combat," Ruse admits with a slight roll of her shoulders. "Though seeing it from a distance does help to pick the best target...one can get...caught up if one is throwing punches." Catechism pulls out a datapad and checks over her to-do list, absently, as Ruse answers. "Autobots have a habit of trying to get all up in your face, trying to corner you can make sure you can't fight at a distance. They even invented jet judo as a means of punching Seekers while they're jets. But... let's pause this discussion. Remember I mentioned punishing Americon?" Ruse nods a bit, a faint smirk crossing her face. "Of course." Catechism strikes a dramatic pose and announces, "To the dungeon!" You move to the NCC Arena. This circular arena evokes either a whirlpool, in the sloping spiral of the seating, or a toothy maw, in the pointed backs of the seats. Layered blues and subtle violets give a water-colored feel to the arena, a pointed contrast to the bright life-fluids spilled on the floor here. It's almost mocking, the lulling false sense of security. Rising on shining spires, box seats perch high above the 'whirlpool', sculpted like crystalline compound eyes, mirrored and unknowable on the outside and comfortable within, with an excellent view of the arena. Floodlight globes like pearls are strung from the high ceiling, and on full power, they can fill the arena with more light than high noon. Contents: Hall of Heroes Obvious exits: Down leads to NCC Training Arena. North leads to NCC Dungeon. Southeast leads to NCC Spinal Pathway. East leads to NCC Medical Ward. Training Room: Your current profile has been restored. Triangular doors, evoking the kraken's beak, open wide to let you into the NCC Dungeon to the north and clamp shut tightly behind you, making almost a chomping sound. The blues and violets that blanket the city darken here, edging into midnight blue and indigo. The suffusing, scintillating light dims, and only scraps and snatches of illumination are available, hinting at forms rather than revealing the truth of structure. Will-o-the-wisp lights flicker in and out, suggesting sparking wires or perhaps the sinister optics of the security cameras. When activated, the translucent turquoise force fields cast more light than anything else. The long shadow-silhouettes of bars fashioned like rib cages are cast on the ground. The filigreed manacles are deceptively slender, but pound for pound, their grasp is far stronger than spider-silk, nigh unbreakable. From the ceiling hang the various tools of torture, perhaps the teeth of an iron maiden here and the cage of a gibbet there. Contents: Robotic Bald Eagle Obvious exits: South leads to NCC Arena. Ruse has arrived. Americon is currently sitting on a stool, facing towards a corner somewhere in this dungeon. Catechism likes the dungeon! Despite the bad memories. Every so often, she gets to question people, and this is the place for it! This is also the place for tormenting Americon, right now. Catechism stalks over to a cabinet and pulls out a key ring, all skeleton keys, despite those being terribly outdated. Catechism's even whistling, 'London Calling', to be exact. Ruse is trailing after Catechism, smart enough not to get in the other femme's way. She's here, mostly, to watch, but the Seeker seems more than a small bit amused by the potential here. Americon's head raises up. Is someone finally here to tell him that he can look away from the corner now? It's been quite a long time! Catechism opens up the cabinet, revealing an old school reel to reel tape deck, a stack of cassettes, and some cans of paint. They are even red, white, and blue cans of paint. However, this is all going to go horribly wrong. Catechism directs, "Ruse! Bring Americon there," she points at a uncomfortable looking table, "and restrain him." "Of course." Ruse agrees as she moves to Americon, eyeing the Con for a long moment before her optics narrow. "Get up." is all she says, arms crossing as she waits. Americon immediately hops out of his stool! But then... he pauses. "Um, ok. Now what? I was told to look at the corner, and I have not been instructed to stop yet... in America!' Catechism notes, "You'll get that kind of behaviour a lot from Americon. He's very literal." Grabbing some cans of paint, one cassette, and the tape deck, she turns and commands, "Americon, I release you from staring at the corner. Now get on the table." "I see." is Ruse's answer to Catechism, sending a brief glance to the other femme before she looks back to Americon. "Get on the table and lay on your back," she instructs. If he's literal, best be clear. Americon says, "Yay!" as Catechism gives him permission to turn away from the corner. Immediately he hops over onto the table, standing on top of it and waiting. Then, Ruse instructs him to lie down, and Americon does so, though not without complaining, first. "Hey, this table is not very comfortable!" Catechism watches as Americon demonstrates that he is indeed very literal. She offers a white can of paint and a brush to Ruse and directs, "Base coat first." Then, to Americon, she explains, "This is your punishment, as Lord Cyclonus asked me to determine. You will comply." Ruse takes a moment to restrain Americon, in case the power of suggestion isn't enough in this particular situation. reaching across him, she takes the paint and brush, and with a brief grin, nods. "Better staying power if you base coat first." she agrees Americon blinkblinks. "Woah, woah, woah! My paint scheme is very patriotic! You do not understand what you are doing!" He struggles for a moment against his bonds. And to think, he was such a good little 'con before! Americon whimpers a bit, staring at the paint brush as if it were a deadly instrument of pure agony. Catechism crosses her arms and nods, pointing out, "The base is going to be white, anyway. White with red and blue on top. Maybe not so bad, Americon?" A rather sadistic smirk crosses her face, as she lets Americon get his hopes up over where she is going here. Ruse can't help it, her smile widens as Americon begins to protest and Catechism makes to reassure him. Yup, reaaaaal reassuring. Not waiting for further instructions, the Femme seeker makes to start with the basecoat. Americon watches himself get painted white. "Oh, ok. I see. You're just redoing the original paint scheme a bit! Well, that's fine, then! I have nothing to worry about at all!" He hums a patriotic tune pleasantly to himself as Ruse gets to work on the base coat. Catechism watches Ruse's work, and she opens one of the cassette cases, pulling out, 'God Save The Queen' and inserting it into the tape deck. There is room for one more cassette in the deck. Ominous! "Is there an auto-rewind on that?" Ruse wonders of Catechism as she works her way around Americon, painting him over from head to toe. Catechism comments casually, "There is a /copy/ function." She looks from Americon to 'God Save the Queen', rather pointedly. Americon ulps at Catechism. "Um. That's not what I think it is? I mean, come on. Sure, I tried to burn you to death in the name of my silly superstitions, but that doesn't mean we're enemies, or anything, right?" "It's still red white and blue," Ruse points out sweetly as she puts the finishing touch on the primer. Catechism reminds, "Cyclonus ordered me to punish you. Ruse, paint the Union Jack upon him." She unfurls said dreaded flag. Americon's face goes blank! "The Union Jack!? THE UNION JACK! THE! YUNE! YUN! JACK!" He thrashes on the table. "What did I do to deserve this! This is horrible! It's almost as bad as waterboarding! How could you!?" "Stay still, Americon, or I'll have to repaint this over and over again...and make you...give the Queen a piggy back ride." Ruse threatens as she moves to get a new brush, and the red paint. Americon ceases his struggling, though his lip continues to tremble. Catechism crosses her arms and says dryly, "How could I? Pretty easily. Mostly since Ruse is doing all the work. It is a learning experience for her, you see!" She turns to Ruse. "See how upset he is? And you haven't even gutted him or doused him with acid out poked out his optics..." "Far easier," Ruse agrees of Catechism with a cold smile, beginning to paint new red lines on the strapped down Con. Americon grumbles, "Oh, I see, so you're letting her do your dirty work. VERY WELL! I have suffered cruel agonies before! Usually because I wasn't paying attention to something or because I decided to fight Grimlock, but pain is my friend and I would like to invite you to meet him some time and have a beer! He is quite sociable!" Catechism notes, "I already told Ruse that you don't mind pain much. Particularly physical pain. But all she's doing is painting you - and looks almost time for the blue, too!" "Just a few more strokes here. Want to make sure the lines are straight." Ruse explains as she carefully takes her brush to touch up a few of the spots she'd done. Americon squints at Catechism. "You are planning something! What is it you are planning, if it does not involve pain? If it doesn't involve pain, then what does it involve?" He looks down at Ruse. "Don't forget to add some stars!" Catechism corrects, "Don't add any stars, Ruse. This is the Union Jack!" She gestures to her copy. Then, she stares at Americon innocently. "Me? Planning something?" Ruse looks to the examplebefore nodding. "Blue it is." Americon frowns. "Hm. Ok, but what will prevent me from holding an auto shop up and telling them to repaint me back to normal? That would be very easy... in America!" Catechism leans over Americon, and she says very slowly, "Because, Americon, if you do not wear this paintjob, intact, for at least one standard Terran week, I will have Hook go into your BIOS and make you into a FRENCHMAN. So you have a choice. You can wear this and stay an American at core... or you can be doomed to Francophony for all of eternity." Ruse doesn't comment. She just paints. Yup. Paint paint paint. Americon gasps in horror! To be forced to be French on the inside and British on the outside? He can imagine nothing worse! "You're despicable!" he says, with a bit of a lisp. Catechism grins over at Ruse, "See? Even people who aren't moved by physical pain will still have some place you can get a hook into them," she crooks her fingers into a hook, "twist," she turns her wrist, "and TEAR," she yanks her arm back, as if she had just torn the core out of an imaginary enemy. "You just need to studies their habits and inclinations." Ruse nods to Catechism as she finishes off the blue and steps back. "How's that?" Americon looks down at himself, and the monster that he has become. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he screams. And while he does a fairly good "NOOOO" the only droid in the room that is harmed by his outburst is a small cleaning bot, which hits a bump and is flipped over onto its back. Catechism looks over Ruse's work with a critical optic, and she pronounces sharply, "Quite sufficient!" She looks back to Americon, her unfortunate victim, "Now, transform into your cassette mode!" She looks over at the small cleaning robot flipped over by Americon's outburst and sighs. Americon grumbles, "FINE!" and transforms into his cassette mode. Strangely, his transformation, which causes him to shrink in size considerably, also enables to slip right through his bonds. Surely if he really wanted to break free he could've just done that in the first place? Americon collapses and shrinks down into a very tiny cassette labeled, "America's Most Patriotic Hits!" Catechism immediately tries to snatch up Americon and jam him into the tapedeck, so that she can record 'God Save the Queen' on him, because she hopes it will cause him mental anguish. Within mere moments of being shoved into the tapedeck, the entire thing begins to shake as if under the influence of an angry poltergeist as Americon screams in pain. Rusestands back and watches, arms lifting to cross over her chest. "I don't think he likes it, Catechism," she muses softly. Catechism laughs and reminds, "Ruse, if people like punishment, the punisher," not Frank Castle, "is doing it wrong! Punishment needs to be unpleasant enough that the victim doesn't do the bad behaviour again! Now. Americon. You are free to leave. You must wear that paint job and keep that recording for one standard Terran week, otherwise..." she leans forward ominously, "...you'll be begging for baguettes." Then, she turns to Ruse. "Your assistance was appreciated! You are excused. Better get thinking about handling Sky Lynx." Patriotic Cassette pops out of the tape deck, and just lies there on the table for several moments. "Yes... mis.... stress...." he gasps. "I'll make a note to put a little more sarcasm in my tone next time." Ruse mutters quietly to Catechism before she looks back to Americon and, with a shake of her head and a smirk, the femme turns to leave him to his punishment. ================================= Decepticon ================================= Message: 2/164 Posted Author Americon's Punishment Wed Nov 25 Catechism ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Catechism appears, holding a very old school tapedeck. She reports, "As ordered by Lord Cyclonus, I have punished Americon for his... waste of everyone's time, really." The actual list of charges is too embarrassing to read and involves BEES. "I had Ruse paint Americon as the Union Jack, and I recorded 'God Save the Queen' on him. While this may be an unconventional punishment, it is worthwhile to note that Americon has an extremely high tolerance for pain, so conventional methods of torture were liable to yield little success. I assure you, Americon is extremely uncomfortable with his new paintjob and music selection and is therefore duly punished. Americon is to bear that colour scheme, intact, and keep the recording of 'God Save the Queen' on him for a standard Terran week. If he, in the meantime, gets a non-Union Jack repaint or deletes the recording of 'God Save the Queen', he will incur the penalty of being adjusted to French nationality in his BIOS. The Empire prevails." Blip! ==============================================================================
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