| abstract
| - Shred NPC The Tron games are finally here. And standing in the battle arena of the grease pits waiting for her opponent, a long, slender spear in hand, is Shred. There is however something unusual about her. it appears she has removed her wings for the duration of the bout. Even knowing that this removes her ability to transform for the fight, potentially putting herself at a great disadvantage, she looks confident however. Tardy, the gate to the cage cell roll-creaks open, individual bars receding into the ground below. A tall, bulky mech, all grey and black sheen, appears in the dust and gloom. There are others behind him. Guards, as 'encouraging' as the grease pit guards can be. Perhaps this one is leery of the opponent on field today. Finally, the contestant skitters out into the arena on short, thick legs, a burst of speed something like a trot, glaring back into the cells -- then the mech's optics whip forward to appraise Shred. Or is it a mech? Though it bears gashes of battle, the machine's face is soft. And its voice is shrill and crowing. "Shred?" She raises her head, puffing her chest out proudly as if to dismiss the display of uneasiness, perhaps while she still thought herself invisible. "Shred, champion, scourge of the Pit? And you won't even fly for us? Gonna fight with one hand behind your back?" The bulky femme already starts to circle, cackling -- just a hint of nerves to the sound, heavy arms swinging at her sides. Her black shoulders are tall, cylindrical -- and without any obvious weapon, it's likely this one is a hand-to-hand fighter. Shred smirks, "I never said I wasn't going to fly. " the seeker femme's optics are dark, cold as she appraises her opponent. "but my jet form is no use in the arena, so I have no need for my wings." leveling her spear, she grins, walking calmly around the pit, to circle her foe, "and I'm not about to underestimate you either. So come on. Take your best shot." Indeed, who said a Seeker needs their wings to fly? In robot mode the wings are purely ornamental, an encumbrance if anything. "I bet it's not. I betcha you'd do a victory lap or two, just rub it in, 'I'm Shred, I made it out'. But oh," The femme smacks her fist against her other hand, both grinning and rather sneering, "I'm sorry. You must be too big to do that. Outgrew yer pit gear." The two mutually circle, constant distance kept -- it doesn't look like she intends to make the first move. Her arms are heavy enough they'd form good shields -- the motion of fist to hand, perhaps, the formation of one in front of herself. Or just dull contempt. Her red optics distract for a moment, eyeing Shred's heel jets. Who said? She said, that's who. Shred smirks, and suddenly she does jump into the air, firing her heel jets, to fly not straight at her opponent, but around her opponent, accelerating rapidly, spear held back, just mere feet above the ground. The femme growls deeply somewhere within her frame, and tucks her neck and helmet slightly into the rest of her shoulder armor. She seems to know better than to try to track the maneuverable seeker as she circles, beyond the initial acceleration anyway, which left her dizzy for a nanosec. Instead, she charges forward, toward the heart of the arena, arms held up to smack Shred out of the air if she gets in the way. Shred smirks, expanding the circle she flies, accelerating to ever greater speeds as she spirals. It's hard to tell just what her plan might be as she circles, as she does not appear to be making any directly aggressive maneuvers just yet. The arena starts to take on a bull-and-toreador air, the femme bulk charging, stopping, and charging again at Shred as the dynamics of her orbit change. If there's any pattern, it's that she's keeping, by intent or not, her back to the 'far' end of the circle. The crowd offers cheers, jeers -- she looks progressively more frustrated. The wariness of the fight is gone, though. Shred chuckles inwardly as she suddenly turns sharply to fly seemingly straight at her opponent, at her full flight speed, swinging her spear fast and low... but just as she would reach her opponent, she would pull up, so her blow would at most glance.. but even a glancing blow can shatter a delicate balance with a high center of gravity. She's eager for the opportunity to hit something, stance quickly changing to something like a goalie. At a game of Shredball. She swats forward and, finding only air, tries to bring her other arm up in time to at least smack the seeker -- even with remarkable speed borne of aggravation, a tower can only move so fast, and she hisses as Shred's spear shaves a nice piece of armor out of her shoulder. That hiss shortly preludes the moment where she remembers gravity exists, and twists about at the torso to get one arm under herself like a column before she falls -- Then turns to curl back around it. Shred laughs darkly as she pulls herself up vertically, the sheer momentum of her flight making it all too easy for her to dodge the relatively lumbering form of her opponent, spinning fast to level her spear, "Before I left here I couldn't fly, but since I gained the ability, I'm even more deadly." suddenly inverting herself, she dives straight for her opponents body,. to hurl the spear at pointblank range with enough speed to punch through a Guardian's armor. She'd anticipated paper cuts, patient waiting for an opening, but the tactic of a powerful attack takes her by surprise. Stabilized, she gets the chance to look up at the beginning of Shred's dive, waits a moment, then bolts toward the nearest arena wall as fast as her legs can take her. Unsure if Shred can correct at that range -- unsure if Shred'll make note of her direction as she tracks her, as she breaks off. The spear catches the darker transformer deep in the back, a guttural sound something like "grawk" from her vocalizer. The impatient jeering drowns out from the crowd. Energon pours from the shorting, sparking hole in her armor, perhaps defining the match as a matter of time. But she ignores that with a defiant roar. Shred can correct, but that isn't the plan she has. She knew her opponent would either lose their own life, or bolt, and she flips to land solidly upon the ground, folding her arms in triumph, "Come on." her voice is harsh, proud, she is wanting her opponent to make her own move, "Are you a fighter or are you a coward. Did you think I became champion without knowing how to hit hard? That I would not be able to take down the most heavily armored of opponents?" The tall femme stands upright, optics narrow and burning red as she stares down the seeker. She didn't fight to get in this damn game for nothing. She just hadn't expected a slagging champion to be the first thing they threw at her Maybe the second or third. "No," she snorts, starting to stride forward, see how close Shred would let someone. Probably going to die for all her trouble, and still being cautious. Why? She lunges forward, one arm up, one to the side like she means to trap or stumble Shred. She didn't have a weapon -- this might be easy. Shred smirks as the taller femme strides forwards and she stands right where she is, only to as soon as she is within a few meters jump forwards and literally use her head in a manner not unlike Ramjet.. to simply head butt her opponent, before twisting to try and plant her feet up against the larger femme's body. if she can, then she will activate her heel jets at maximum thrust. To intercept Shred with her arms, opponent rolls 20 (where 1-10 is failure, 11-20 is success). Like trying to trap an Insecticon in a jar. The pit fighter backs off as Shred rams her, but allows the momentum to turn her torso to the side instead of knocking it backwards. And those sides tend to have limbs attached to them -- she moves to snap Shred into a sort of bear hug with one arm, bringing the other around to grapple and wrestle the seeker to the ground. By the face, as her intention seems to be. In her processor, a careful attention -- still with the slagging caution, she irritates herself -- is paid to the fuel gauge. Its steady descent strips some of the spirit from her movement, but she isn't out of the games yet. Shred grins as she is grabbed and wrestled to the floor, letting herself be pinned as she brings her legs up to plant her feet, and more importantly her heel jets against her opponent's torso.. "Game over. You lose." at full burn, the attack should be massively damaging.. and Shred isn't even TRYING to pull out of the grip of her opponent. The femme grimaces even as she gets Shred to the ground. This was too easy, she must have ... jets. Of course. Without time to move out of the way, a blowtorch from hell at her ventral circuitry ... "SLAGGER!" Maybe a more appropriate epithet than it ought to be. She screeches a couple other incomprehensible things, bracing her arms into the first of Shred's arms she can find, her face -- The helmet starts to crack and crumple under her grip before she musters her back hydraulics to lift and throw Shred into the arena wall. She falls on her fists, reeling. Shred lets out a cold, almost insane laugh from her internal vocalizer even as she impacts the side wall, twisting to slide to the ground and get back to her feet, turning towards the larger femme. "You do know of course that all you have done is disable my cranial sensor array. Right? You haven't done any damage that would disable me at all." sure, her left arm the armor is cracked, but she's not too bothered, as she reaches into her subspace compartment, she gets out a laser scalpel. "Yield or I will tear you apart!" She isn't quite done reeling yet. Shred's image tries to ghost on her optics as she evaluates the damage to her body. The fuel feed to her legs was half burnt out. The stabilizing motors on her front may or may not function. And the tanks had about a breem left. Her optics get their focus back ... on a head-lolling seeker? "No wonder you fought it out of here. You got no brain." She might not have known Shred's tactics in advance, but she knows the reputation -- thinks she does, anyway. With a burst of air and a creak, she falls to her knees. They wouldn't be useful anyway. "Can't compete with that. I give." Her observation continues warily. Shred nods, and she puts the scalpel away. "Oh, I have a brain. I just do not keep it in my cranial unit. You fought well." walking towards her opponent, she holds out a hand to help her to her feet. "Now we both are going to need some serious repairs. " As Shred approaches, the gladiator starts to rise in warning, with a look venomous, particularly at 'praise' of her ability, but somewhat forced. She can't play stupid; as a part of knowing that reputation, she knows -- or has heard it filtered down, and considering Shred's position here, there's probably some bias /somewhere/ -- that her opponent is one of the Decepticons' best medics. "Think with your spark huh?" She can pretend not to get it, though. After a pause, she takes the hand offered, though gruffly. Wasn't worth it this time. Story to tell later.
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