| abstract
| - Blossom Garden In the center of the Petrified Forest is a strange place. The 'dead' masts have been cleared away in a circle exactly one hundred yards wide. Deft precision has been used so that nothing of the masts themselves remains, and the 'remains' of them have been cut into fine circles and used to make a sort of curb or frame that goes around the edge of the circle to seperate it from the disorder outside. Within the circle, someone has covered the ground to the depth of a few feet with perfect white crystalline sand; reflecting the light of the twain suns of this starsystem with a brilliant gleam. Here and there, one finds silvery colored boulders that are surrounded themselves by an ochre colored moss. The center of the circle has been raised by about six feet with the sands that border it perfectly sloped. Someone has taken the time to give the sand a perfect texture of lines, around the rocks and with a checker-board style pattern on the top of of the raised area. One might notice that a sort of mat has been placed in the center of the 'dias' as though for someone to sit upon. Surrounding the garden are beautiful white mecha-blossoms; something unseen on Cybertron for many, many years. Lovingly tended and raised, they are silvery-pink in color and constantly shedding and re-growing their leaves -- causing the 'blossoms' to drift upon the wind throughout the garden and those that might be in it. This is a place of surprising tranquility. OOC: for one idea, only this garden is circular. The blossoms look like: Contents: Banshee Skull-Faced Samurai Warrior At the appointed hour, Bludgeon is to be found at the appointed place. This is to say, the Blossom Garden. He sits in a lotus position, clearly waiting, with a small object wrapped in cloth bevore him. His current location is roughly the center of the 'dias' in the middle of the place. Banshee steps, cautiously, into the Blossom Garden too, looking around. She steps up to the raised Dais and bows fairly low, awaiting permission to sit, or a place to stand. "Herr Bludgeon." Air brakes hiss as Motormaster skids to a stop outside the carefully-manicured zen garden and transforms, scowling at it as he pushes a clicking mechanical branch out of his way and enters the clearing uncertainly. "What is all... this for?" he demands of Bludgeon, gesturing expansively. "You've gone to a lot of work here to arrange something which will surely be wrecked in combat training." Bludgeon is about to speak to Banshee and then he turns his head towards Motormaster. His expression shifts to one of supreme neutrality. "You continue to believe that Metallikato is simply a physical motion, that to perform the proper movement will result in your desired outcome and you are quite wrong. The purpose of this place is to center yourself, to rid yourself of fear, of doubt, and any emotional impediment that you have. Unfortunatly, Motormaster, you have many of them. I will be surprsied if you pass today's test." He gestures towards the dias, where two mats have been placed. "Banshee. Sit. Motormaster, you as well. I am going to begin today by teaching you a simple meditation technique." Banshee nods "Jawohl." The Stukacon adjusts herself and carefully sits on the mat. She's unable to assume the proper Lotus position, and therefore instead just sits cross-legged, adjusting the holster that contains her Luger-styled pistol on her hip. She looks towards Bludgeon quietly, then over at Motormaster, waiting to see his reaction. "Hn. We'll see." Motormaster's frown deepens as he seats himself and fixes a keen glare on Bludgeon, watching him closely for whatever he might have up his proverbial sleeve. Rampage has arrived. Rampage was here all along! Honest! The animators just forgot to draw him in. He stares intently at Bludgeon, awaiting the tests. He has his sword out, all nice and sharpened. And glowing too. He nods at the other participants in acknowledgement. Bludgeon is not someone who is typically given to tricks. He regards Motormaster for a moment . . and then the center of his face splits and his shell opens, discourging the smaller form of the robot within. He makes no comment of Banshee's posture. "You are going to take me at face value, Motormaster? You will do as I say, and try your best. You seemed to imply that, for you wish to learn -- no matter how strange the request." He then gestures. "To make Metallikato work, the absense of emotion must drive onself. You both enter combat fueled by rage, and by bravado. All you can do with these emotions is to make hasty judgements and get yourself in trouble. Rage equates to nothing but missed strikes and oppertunities to be taken by an enemy. Metallikato is the absence of emotion for cold, precise logic. You must know exactly when to strike and when to move . . and part of that is centering yourself and dispensing with anger . . or with fear." He, Motormaster and Banshee are seated around a raised dias in the center of the garden. " . . so." He says. "You may begin by thinking about . . . nothing, while I prepare. Terminate your optic functions, and focus on nothing for as long as you are able." He then begins to unwrap the cloth object. Bludgeon drops Bludgeon's Box. Motormaster rubs at his forehead with two fingertips to try to suppress his deep-set frown lines. "I want to be as powerful as I can, yes! I won't even shun your strange ways, Bludgeon. Although they don't make a lot of sense to me so far... a Decepticon's rage is his strength! Without caring about the fight, where would our morale come from?" He lowers his head under its hood, eyes dark, and tries not to be confused by these strange notions. Banshee deactivates her optics and cycles her respiritory systems a few times, ignoring Motormaster's comments as she just does what is asked. She tries to clear her mind, and this takes a while. Her 'pigtails', that is the blades of her propeller, go completely limp and sway gently in the breeze. Bludgeon is now a robot. "Fighting more effectively without rage? Interesting concept," Rampage remarks, "So then this would be like me fighting, but with the TV on as well?" That's as close of an analogy as he can come to. He looks over at Banshee, carefully studying what it is she is doing. Hasn't he seen this on TV somewhere? As Bludgeon works, calmly and unhurridely he emits a "Good." To Banshee. To Motormaster there is almost a strange levity. "The more that you banish your emotion now, the less it is going to hurt you shortly." A pause, and then the Metallikato master looks full at Rampage. " . . . You will have to leave the . . . distraction behind, if you hope to succeed." Then one more elaboration is made to Motormaster: "Rage is failure, not strength. How well did your rage serve you, when you fought me?" As Bludgeon works, the object is uncovered: A very, very ancient Cybertronian blade. It seems hardly special beside having both Autobot and Decepticon insignia on opposite sides . . and that it is very obviously broken two feet or so up the blade itself. But it is ancient beyond ancient, according to look and according to scans. Bludgeon lays it neatly in front of him. "Very well then. Clear your minds as best as I told you, and we will begin." Motormaster lets out a chuckle in spite of himself at Rampage's remark, and tries to think of a comparable situation for himself, but remebers that he's supposed to be trying not to think of anything, and stifles it. Banshee seems impervious even to the comment of 'good'; such praise would normally raise a smile on her face, but instead... nothing. Just the slow, regular cycle of air into her power cell, and then exhaust gasses out. Intake. Exhaust. Calm and measured. It's not actually difficult for Rampage to clear his mind. There's hardly anything in there to begin with. He sits there silently, as thoughts are suppressed in his processor, as per Bludgeon's directions. Nobody could ever accuse Rampage of being the sharpest knife in the drawer, but sometimes that actually comes in handy. There is a moment of pure and utter silence. In fact, if one is not looking and has their senses turned inwardly as instructed they will not see the dull verdant shimmer that extends from the ancient blade. A green tentacle of lurid energy touches each in a caress that cannot be felt -- except for Bludgeon. At Rampage's touch, there is no energy at all . . at Banshee's, a mild flaring . . but when it comes into contact with Motormaster it flares bright aurora green and dissapears. Then silence again. That would seem to be the value of this place. The peace, the tranquility are absolute and with the optic sensors turned off there is not even wind through the many dead trees to take one away from their internal processes. As one turns inwards, there are a variety of little distractions. Fluid pressure . . the sounds of a pump regulating the movement of hydraulics . . a distant horn. It is a remarkable sound . . remarkably like something from the data tracks. That is all that Rampage and Banshee will see, or hear. Just the sound of a distant horn. Motormaster however, will suddenly be confronted with Optimus Prime bearing down on him at full ramming speed from an unexpected direction while . . nobody else moves. In front of Rampage now, and seen only by Rampage is a giant television. One that would do amazing things at any football stadium. It is currently displaying some race video. When Banshee opens her optics, she will see a surprising scene before her. What appears to be an air attack on the last major city on Earth -- and she is carrying the ultimate weapon for it -- some sort of neutron electromagnetic pulse weapon. Combat: Bludgeon strikes Motormaster with Metallikato Ritual Object 's Optimus Prime Lives! attack! Combat: Bludgeon (Bludgeon) used "Generic Ranged": A Level 8 AREA-RANGED attack. Combat: You took 15 damage. Combat: Bludgeon's attack has decreased your Courage. Combat: Bludgeon's attack has slightly decreased your Courage. Rampage finds himself staring at an enormous television. There's a Formula One race on the screen. "Hmmm, if I knew this is what Metallikato does, I'd have gotten lessons sooner," he says to himself. But since it's in his own head, nobody else can hear him. He's transfixed by the moving sleek automobiles. A state of complete calmness washes over him. "Hrn," mutters Motormaster in reply to Bludgeon's reminder of their duel. He exhales diesel exhaust from his stacks and tries to still himself and look inward. This is difficult for him. His psyche is always turning, always whirring like a camshaft. Dead End might be good at this test, but Motormaster doesn't keep Menasor's fragmented mind bound together through calmness and inner peace, and only by focussing on the rare moments of satisfaction and pride in his past accomplishments can Motormaster even remember what peace feels like. When the hallucination intrudes on him he rises to his feet, snatching his sword off of his back and throwing himself reflexively towards where it seems his nemesis is coming from. "Come ON, then! I'm not afraid of you! I RELISH the challenge!" Uncringingly he meets his enemy head-on, but as his eyes switch back on he finds himself with his sword plunged into a tree trunk, back in the zen garden in a state of befuddlement. "I... what? Was that... hn. That was not success, was it." Banshee , in her head, waffles slightly under the weight of the weapon slung beneath her. She increases the power of her engine, feeling it growl. She scans for her target location below. So hooked into the hallucination is she that she actually transforms, without noticing. Bludgeon will notice that, even though her engine isn't running, her control surfaces are reacting to unreal wind currents and movements. And he'll also notice that the 'pilot hologram's' eyes are closed, just as her optics are. Folding and shifting, Banshee transforms into a Ju-87 Stuka Bludgeon would smile if it was a gesture that he was capable of in this mode. "No, Motormaster." He says. "That was . . not success. Your own rage foiled you once again, and you will learn nothing. It is just as I suspected, failure is completely inevitable for you -- or will you try again?" He indicates the mat before him, once again with hand. However, it would seem that even with Motormaster's optics open the 'test' does not end so easily and the sound of an engine and airbrakes is heard from somewhere deep in the forest. But where? Elsewhere, in Banshee's mind -- the combat is intense. At least a dozen fighters fly off of her wings, all carrying less destructive weapons but flying escort. Up ahead, Omega Supreme stands with a line of Autobot Gestalts and Metroplex -- doing a very good job of holding back the inevitable onslaught, enough to show that there is indeed hope of resisting this. This would seem, is it -- one faction rises and one faction falls, and it all depends on the success of her payload. Suddenly.... in a horrendus explosion, Metroplex's maser fire shears the control surfaces on her left wing. Can she remain stable? For Rampage . . the show is utterly engrossing. Perfect color, perfect depth . . a myriad of human piloted cars doing battle on an oval track so real looking that the smell of rubber is even there. Except . . except . . what's that? Lines are beginning to form in the screen as the backlight fails... Combat: Bludgeon strikes Motormaster with Metallikato Ritual Object 's Cluttered Mind! Area attack! Combat: Bludgeon (Bludgeon) used "Generic Ranged": A Level 8 AREA-RANGED attack. Combat: You took 18 damage. Combat: Bludgeon's attack has decreased your Courage. Combat: Bludgeon strikes Ju-87 Stuka with Metallikato Ritual Object 's Cluttered Mind! Area attack! Combat: Bludgeon strikes Rampage with Metallikato Ritual Object 's Cluttered Mind! Area attack! Rampage flies into a rage the moment the picture cuts out! "HEY TURN THAT BACK ON!" he shouts, as he comes out of the trancelike state, and realizes there is no TV, no race, and just the others. "What the heck just happened?" he wonders. He's doing the equivalent of panting heavily, through his faceplate. "Wait a minute...that was the test, wasn't it? To see if I'd get mad because a TV was suddenly turned off?" Ju-87 Stuka 's left-wing control surfaces go limp but her right ones compensate. She swears under her breath but continues to fight, fly, and in imaginary terms, curse the Seekers escorting her and tell them to fight harder. She growls quietly to herself, the other control surfaces still moving rapidly to counter the 'damage' done to her left wing. With eyes still closed, her pilot hologram looks left and right, gesturing for them to attack Omega Supreme. Bludgeon might hear her muttering under her 'breath' "I vill haff no fear. Fear ist ze mind-killer." over and over again. Combat: Ju-87 Stuka sets her defense level to Fearless. Combat: Ju-87 Stuka strikes Metallikato Ritual Object with her Pistol attack! "Are you saying that if I don't- hng!" Motormaster stumbles and falls on his face as he feels something illusory (but nevertheless very convincing) hit him like the proverbial Mack truck from behind, not turning quickly enough to get out of the way, if that's even possible. Motormaster spits out sand and gets up onto his hands and knees. "You can BEAT this," he tells himself, sand gritty in his chromium teeth. "It's just another fight. A different fight." He switches his eyes off again and inhales deeply, hydraulics hissing. "Fight yourself, fight your nature. That's what Bludgeon's saying. New battlefield, new techniques. Inner battle." Motormaster gets up and yanks his sword out of the tree by memory, and stabs it into the ground at his side before sitting back down, slowly and deliberately. When the horn comes back around for yet another pass he stretches his fingers out, opening his hands and forcing them not to clench into fists. He places them on his knees and sits quite still, refusing to turn to look at the onrushing Autobot leader which he knows, although he also knows it can't be true, is barrelling towards him. "New kind of challenge. Keep control. Can't stop it. Don't try. Let it THROUGH." He exhales fumes slowly and ignores the roaring engine, putting it away somewhere far in the back of his mind... Rampage will find, suddenly, even 'awake' as he is . . there is a flickering, feeble glow behind him. The same television is there, suspended within one of the large trees. A nature program is on this time, small mice scampering and frolicing around and doing the cute little squeaky things that mice typically do. Once again in captivating, livid color -- one can almost smell the almonds they are eating. This will continue for as long as is required for Rampage to pay attention to it once again. This time, as soon as he is captivated, if he is . . the television falls right out of the tree and lands with a tremendous crash and a flurry of sparks, broken glass and the like! Within Banshees vision, the action is heating up -- heating up markedly. Now, she is suddenly solo and suddenly alone -- her wing-mates having flown ahead only to be swatted down from a series of blasts from Omega-Supreme's head cannon. Now it is purely up to her as the target zone looms larger and larger, the fate of the Empire resting upon her! And suddenly...the ominous sound of silence again, as her engine stops -- shot through by a round from something or other. Motormaster seems to have the idea, and this time -- this time -- there is no sudden impact. No violent jolt. But there is the feeling of something looming just behind him, less than a couple of feet away. In fact, he will be almost able to smell the deisel smoke and hear the characteristic rattle of the big 18 wheeler's engine... Rampage is once again entranced by the Television. How he loves to watch nature shows! And when it falls out of the tree and crashes, a surge of emotion grips him. But then he remembers. "No, no, no, part of the test, part of the test...it's not a real TV so I shouldn't get mad." Slowly he calms himself again. Ju-87 Stuka curses quietly to herself and scowls. She'll ride the bomb in and keep it on if she has to. She sets herself in glide, only to pause in her head. "Zis... is not real..." She mutters quietly. She forces herself to transform back to her robot mode and returns to the seated position, though her propeller blades remain extended and rotating slightly and the control surface on her right ring continues to flutter in response to the stimuli of the hologram. "Keep control, keep control," Motormaster tells himself, the rattle and rumble of Optimus Prime's engine loud in his ears. "Wait... no, that's still not right. Bludgeon wouldn't say that. Let GO of control." Motormaster relaxes his outstretched fingers as something occurs to him. "Don't need to control right now. I am unstoppable. I will survive. It... it will be all right. I have already won this fight." He sits up straight and puts out his chin with calm pride, realizing that he does not need to prove himself. He is a victor, born of victors, built to fight and win, and victory is his destiny. There is a sudden shimmering in front of Motormaster's optics and the 'sounds' of the clunking deisel behind him go away and reality returns. He will see Banshee and Rampage busy with their own hallucinations while Bludgeon watches, hand resting on the scabbard of the broken sword -- a thin tendril of energy still connecting Banshee and Rampage to it, even if they cannot see it. "You have surprised me, Motormaster." He states without emotion. " . . by managing to conquer your rage. I expected nothing but a stupid brute from you. Perhaps you -will- learn something. In fact, you've learned one of the single most important things, today. Control. Control yourself, and you control your enemy. Blind rage makes you incapable of seeing oppertunity to exploit a critical weakness -- and that is the fundamental thing that makes Metallikato work." Banshee's hallucination intensifies as she lands, a number of Autobots moving towards her -- weapons already online and firing! In her audials, a voice crackles. " . . . you MUST deliver the weapon, Banshee! You were chosen because only -you- were capable! If you fail . . you have left your entire cause; your entire race to ruination and dust!" Meanwhile, Omega Supreme is moving in. Rampage will have a similar effect as Motormaster as his 'simulation' ends. Bludgeon is peering at him. "I cannot tell if you made an achievement, or if your head is so empty the device failed." He says to him. Rampage rubs the back of his head as reality comes back into view and he sees the others, and Bludgeon holding the curious sword. "Was that it?" he murmurs, "I did tell myself I shouldn't get mad, that's something, right?" Ju-87 Stuka snarls quietly; while in the real world she's transformed, she's still mostly involved in it. She keys and attempts to start her engine again, and again, the rage and frustration flowing through her until something... clicks in her head. With a snarl in the real world, she stands, then blinks and looks around. "Sheiss... ah... oh. I see..." Motormaster swells with pride. "I will not allow myself to be defeated so easily, even in a battlefield new to me," he tells Bludgeon. "A soldier who can only fight in one theatre of war would make a poor leader. I see there is wisdom in what you say after all. Confidence can serve rage's part in granting the spirit to fight!" Bludgeon gives Motormaster a short nod. " . . and mastering of rage permits you to observe your opponent, find his weakness and strike -- not simply flail blindly, even if that works for some." He rises then and steps back into his shell, bending to take up the sword before he bows coldly. "We will reconvene in two standard weeks." To Rampage, he adds a final acknowledgement: "Indeed. But your ease of success concerns me." And then, he is gone. Motormaster rises thoughtfully, mouth opening as if he wants to ask something, but he saves it for later. He moves the tree branches out of the way more carefully when he leaves than he did when he entered, his claymore on his shoulder and his face revealing he is almost as surprised as Bludgeon at learning something. Once Bludgeon leaves, Rampage rubs his optics and looks around. "Hm, I think I'll head back," he says, "There's a fight on TV." Ju-87 Stuka walks out after Motormaster, lookin subdued and almost thoughtful. Motormaster performed better than her, yet it was her own rage that let her down. She has much to think over...!
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