capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

(no subject)

Who: Moonybase and YOU
When: 23 December 2009. 8am - 10pm
Where: Moonybase.
Summary: An open invitation to a party never looked so good. Check your weapons and powers at the door.
Warnings: Probably everything. Please see this post for details.
Format: Whatever works. Don't forget to add your tag.
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Remus had been to enough Christmas parties in his lifetime to know when one would end disastrously, including those that had been specifically dated to avoided interfering with other Christmas plans that the guests might have. This was one of them. But his tolerance had kept him quiet, the happy act of cleaning and decorating taken to as easily as any other task he did.

The twins had also been enlisted to help, given the important task of stringing a length of bright red ribbon and pine up the staircase to the second floor. The soft white lights that followed were magic. In fact, none of the lights, save for whatever lamps or overhead lights that Miles insisted upon, were run by electricity, and many were candles, kept only from setting anything ablaze by a flame-freezing charm.

By the time the morning of the party rolled around, the house looked as if it had been pulled straight out of a Christmas card, Remus borrowing from what he remembered of Christmases as Hogwarts and the Burrow, including a single bit of mistletoe in the entry. The snow helped, piling nicely (if in an oddly organized fashion) outside thanks to a little help from Miles, adding to the image; if nothing else, Remus was happy with it, the certainty that he would wind up having to transfigure another person into some sort of object nagging at the back of his mind.

Tin whistles, toy rocking horses, and sprigs of mistletoe were likely going to be very common later in the evening, he mused, tapping his wand rhythmically against the palm of his hand in thought as he checked everything over once more, walking through the sitting and dining rooms and out into the backyard where the tree house had been built out of ice and wood into the tree there. The floating green structures that Kyle Rayner had promised to provide were still missing, but they would be there soon enough.

He pocketed his wand and walked back into the house, shaking free the snow from his boots, and glancing at the clock. People who had offered their assistance had been asked to come early, which meant that the kitchen was soon going to turn into a madhouse, the extra stove only offering so much help. It also meant he had best make tea before he was banned from the room.

ooc; alkdsjfa you guys are amazing <3 For your convenience, links to the separate comment sections. To keep the death to your bandwidth down a little.

EARLY ARRIVALS: VARIOUS PREPARATIONS
TIMELY ARRIVALS: CHECK YOUR MOTIVES AT THE DOOR
SOCIALIZING FOR FUN AND PROFIT
GO AHEAD! TALK WITH YOUR MOUTH FULL!
I'M GOING TO PISTOL-WHIP THE NEXT GUY WHO SAYS 'SHENANIGANS'
THIS IS WHY MANKIND INVENTED THE 'GUEST BEDROOM'
AND THEN EVERYTHING ELSE HAPPENED HERE
TAKING YOUR TOYS AND GOING HOME

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Trowa frowned a little deeper, for a number of reasons--for one thing, Arsenal was still down for another 14 minutes, and he wasn't sure he had enough shingles to occupy Starscream that long. Besides which, causing a leak in the host's roof would probably be considered bad manners. It annoyed him even more that his shot hadn't connected--how long since THAT had last happened?

Doubly so that his conversation with Quatre--which had turned out to end fairly pleasantly compared to the way it had begun--was thoroughly interrupted by the ex-bot's inability to leave well enough alone for four straight hours. If that was Starscream's idea of revenge, it was pretty successful.

Trowa tugged a second shingle loose, brandishing it, and called out, "You're breaking the rules. The host said to be civil to other guests."

"I'm breaking the rules!?" screeched Starscream, his voice like cracking ice. "I was simply investigating this vehicle, and have done it no permanent harm."

"Indeed," he continued, stepping forward, back onto the lawn. "If anyone's being 'uncivil', it's you!"

Another minute, and he'd be able to fly. He could feel his metabolism once again kicking into overdrive, and he was glad that he'd wolfed down something like six full plates of food before coming out here. He was going to need that.

"Looks more like a carjacking to me," he replied, in his usual smooth and even tone. "Kind of stupid to do. By a lawyer's house, and all."

He stood up and walked a few feet closer to the edge of the roof, readying himself to either throw the shingle or leap at his foe if necessary. And knowing the bad temper and gluttony for punishment the other possessed, as well as having guessed at how much Starscream would hate him for what he'd done, well. It probably would be.

At least it had waited until they were both outside.

"On the contrary; the vehicle in question happens to be sentient, and one of my soldiers. He had recently betrayed my trust and needed a talking to. As I was outside the borders of Mr. Edgeworth's property, I was not, in fact, in the wrong," he retorted. Half of which was lies - he knew perfectly well now that Arsenal was some sort of armored shell (not unlike what the Witwickys used in his own universe), and wasn't going to 'talk' so much as 'investigate the thing's inner workings'. Not that it would have mattered if it was sentient - one of the reasons Starscream was so feared was his habit of disabling an opponent, only to gleefully take them apart while they were helpless.

He stepped forward again. He could fly now, if he wanted, but he hesitated. Better to keep up the verbal dance first. See which one of them would strike first.

"And the fact remains that you made the first move, human," he said. "I've merely been reacting. Responding. The question is, what are you going to do now?"

Trowa didn't move from his spot, making it seem as though he'd merely come nearer in order to speak at a more comfortable distance and forcibly giving Starscream's continual press forward the look of a menacing air. Instead, he kept up the mask of a helpful and concerned party guest, his hands in his pockets and his posture that of a relaxed person instead of someone tensing up to spring--even though he was.

"Well, if that's your soldier, then he is a guest," Trowa explained in a ridiculously casual fashion. "And you shot him with something. It's not his fault he can't fit inside. You took advantage of his situation."

Keep him talking, the boy thought to himself, hoping Quatre had moved out of the line of sight; he couldn't hear anyone else up on the roof with him, and so figured the other had in fact gotten away. He can't get into the mobile suit if he's distracted.

"Call a hero outside, maybe. I doubt they'd be happy to hear about it."

Oh, he was getting tired of playing this game.

"I have no use for heroes," he said. "And my business remains my business."

He refrained from adding 'traitor' to the end of that comment. Instead, he folded his arms and made as if to grumpily go back into the house... only to point a single finger straight up and fire a shot at Trowa's feet. His hope was to dislodge a few more of the already moved tiles and possibly send the human tumbling off the roof. Make it look like something of an accident.

Still tensed, watching the ex-bot at his game, Trowa hadn't quite expected a dirty move like that--but when he had time to view the scene via hindsight, later, he would remind himself that Starscream was exactly the type to use it, and to be more watchful in the future. As it was, he was forced to jump to the right to avoid losing his feet to the blast, taking away most of the dignity he'd managed to keep while he'd been standing still; it had loosened enough that they began to skid down beneath his weight.

Scowling, and not wishing to hit the ground on Starscream's terms, Trowa leaped off, turning a somersault and landing gracefully on the railing of the balcony one floor down with a bow.

"I thought you only shot at your soldiers?" he called down with a mild smirk.

Come on. Get angry. Be stupid.

Oh. That was interesting. Note down one power he didn't know about, then. Curious.

"Oh, not only them," he said. "Only when they deserve it."

Then it was his turn to smirk.

"Like one in particular is right now."

He shot to either side of Trowa's feet this time - it was unlikely he'd be able to break the railing, but he would be able to weaken it significantly. He could shoot at the boy, but he figured that wouldn't be nearly as entertaining as this.

Let's test the limits of that agility, shall we...?

Defense, defense, defense. That was the way to play a game; let your opponents exhaust their actions against you before you make plans of your own. Prod them and let them react, but don't take overt actions of your own until the time's ripe.

"Ah? Looks to me like he's still sitting by the curb."

And never willingly hand them the truth on a platter.

Easy to flip back down onto the balcony itself, and shake his head--property damage, also against the rules--then jump off the concrete to the second-floor roofing below. Trowa leaned up against a large pillar there, waiting. He had another surprise in store; the only things deciding when it would come into play were either how long before he reached ground, or how fast Starscream could get to him.

Starscream had enough of this playing about. With a single, graceful leap, he launched himself onto the roof, leaving a faint red glow in his wake. He landed, turned smartly, then chose a pillar for himself, leaning against it with equal nonchalance, the only cue to how high-strung he was right now the lurid brightness of his eyes.

"I really don't like lies, Arsenal," he said, folding his arms. "Or did you think I'd never figure it out? Contrary to what many believe, I'm not actually stupid."

That was better. Without his long-range weaponry at hand, the boy preferred having enemies up close. Trowa wanted the other within striking range, and now, he had him there.

"That's not my name," he replied, which was something of the truth; he was a human boy from some centuries in the future. The MS sitting still deactivated in the road was Arsenal. He'd promised one of the other 'Cons not to personally hand Starscream his identity, and he meant to stand by that--both to fulfill his promise and to mess with his opponent to his own benefit.

One narrowed green eye stared back at the glowing red ones, the other hidden, his expression blanked out.

"And I never said you were. But you don't have to be stupid to be a fool."

"No, it wouldn't be, would it? That'd be the name of that unit out there," he said. "Which even I must admit, is fairly well-constructed for being made by a human."

"No," he said, unfolding his arms and subtly putting one foot on the pillar, ready to activate his 'engines' at full if he had to suddenly escape. "The name you gave is 'Nanashi', which a quick perusal of Google told me means 'Nameless'. A fitting name, for one so worthless."

It was a gamble. See if he could bait the boy, sink in barbs. It might be a short in the dark, but it was worth a try.

Being called a fool did cause him to bristle, but if there was anything this city had taught him, it was to hold his temper (four million years and it took being human to teach him that lesson. At least it had finally sunk in.)

He doesn't outwardly acknowledge the backhanded compliment, even though it gives him an inner sense of satisfaction to hear; being what he was for so long is nearly validated by the knowledge that his construction did manage to fool a race of actual robots for a short while. Instead, he watches the Seeker's movements, trying to guess his next one before it can be made.

The shot about being worthless takes away the satisfaction gained from the compliment, threatening to bring back the old fears and old worries; Trowa viciously shoves it away with the knowledge that he managed to make an idiot out of his enemy. For months. There might be a lot of adjectives one could use to describe him, and not all of them were pleasant, but that was not one. Not now.

Well, if they were gambling, then it was his turn to throw the dice.

"You used a search engine? You have a skilled Communications Officer at hand and you used Google."

He gave a short, empty laugh.

"I guess shouldn't be surprised. Logical thinking and functional leadership don't seem like your strong points."

Still no admission to any infiltration. Just insults.

That last comment almost made him start shooting, but he held himself back. He didn't need an admission; he had all the data he needed. Now he was just biding his time.

"It's not as if he speaks Japanese, and if I'd asked him likely that's the first thing he would have done. Come now, that's like trying to drive a nail in with a rocket launcher."

He examined his nails, trying his best to look utterly unconcerned. "Besides, he's a skilled communications officer who is rapidly allowing his human form to compromise him emotionally and whom I suspect of outright treachery. I'd wondered how long being human would take to cause him to slip his loyalty programming."

He smiled a viper's smile.

"Still... it was him that told me about you. Not everything, no - he thinks he's still safe. Like everyone else, he assumes I'm a complete fool, but really, his reticence has told me volumes. What did you bribe him with? Or is he using you as yet another poor replacement for his lost sons. I gather it's the latter. A shame you're much too wild to be tamed properly, and much too human to be reformatted into a cassette."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Ah, lieutenants. Such a troublesome lot."

And then he paused. "Oh. Oh dear, you got me monologuing. This won't do at all... perhaps Megatron was right, I always did talk too much..."

His movement was again deceptively casual - a simple shrug of the shoulders as he turned his wrists out, rolling his eyes. Which was accompanied by his fingers lighting and firing a blast straight at Trowa.

There wasn't much time to settle in and think about what Starscream was saying, although he wouldn't forget a word of it; though he had done his best to stay detached from the communications officer for some time now, there was something wrong with the way the other was speaking about him that pulled at a wee, tiny, almost nonexistent but still quite present thread of concern.

He'd tried to destroy it, believing over time that his efforts to teach Soundwave some degree of humanity had been a lost cause--but hearing that the bot had indeed tried to keep most of Trowa's secrets from his leader had snagged at it and pulled it up again. The idea that he was possibly becoming some kind of familial replacement was mildly unnerving, massively unexpected, and only made the thread tug harder.

Family and friends were to be protected.

...Damn it!

Whether or not Starscream had intended it, Trowa had fallen into a trap, too busy thinking to realize that he was about to be shot at--one more thing to be chalked up in the "emotions are bad after all" column later--and only noticed at the brief light before the actual blast. He didn't make the jump away in time, the blast hitting him; Trowa repressed the shout of pain into a loud grunt and landed on the roof with a hard thump, likely alerting anyone in the room below to the situation outside.

Within a second the boy was gone, and a roaring humanoid monster with a black and red blastmark on one furry leg was hurtling in Starscream's direction with intent to crash him into the ground.

Starscream instantly fired his jets at full power, launching away from the roof like a bullet from a gun, missing getting hit by Trowa's claws by mere millimeters. His heart thundered in his chest and his body ached from the sheer force that burst of speed put on him. He'd expected an attack, but not exactly that - luckily, old habits died hard, and he was someone rather used to his opponents suddenly changing shape before his eyes.

It was just unusual to see that in a human opponent.

He paused and hovered in the air, idly wondering just how high that thing could jump.

"So, you have an alt mode!" he crowed, trying to distract Trowa again. "Perhaps I misjudged you - you're more like us than I expected!"

The beast mind that held partial control over the war form raged at missing its prey; Trowa's logical human one shut it up and stuffed it far down below, to instinct level where it belonged, the boy already having been unwilling to resort to these tactics and even more so now to let it take command like it so often craved. What remained in place of either was a horrid and cold mix of both, the massive creature prowling around the roof and ignoring Starscream's screeches.

Shockwave had already mentioned something of the Predacons while the boy was in his laboratory, and Waspinator had spoken of some relatively similar versions from his own world while teaching Trowa--or the 'szecretsquish'--about Cybertronians. Granted, he no longer had the robotic appearance adding to the imagery, but his curiosity regarding how similar this transformation process to their own had been sufficiently satisfied for the time being. The remarks being made now had no effect on his plans.

As for his ability to jump... well, let's do the math. As a 5'6" tall human being with his powerset as modeled after canon, he can go a good fifteen feet straight into the air, and probably twenty-thirty or so lengthwise--not necessarily from a running start. He can also drop a good fifty or so straight down and not shatter his legs, apparently.

Now take a nine and a half foot tall feline critter with a hell of a lot more muscle than him and give it that same power. Just how how much air do you think that thing can eat if it wants to?

Better come up with an answer quickly, Starscream--it's just sailed off the roof to try and snatch you by the feet.

And, once again, Starscream's tendency to babble was his undoing. He wasn't quite able to get out of the way before Trowa's claws sank into his legs.

"SHEAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" he screeched, thrashing.

The funny thing about Starscream's powers was that he was actually able to generate about 35,000 pounds of thrust, complete with contrails of energy. Even if he couldn't fly safely at that speed, he'd learned that they could be used for quick bursts of acceleration, or as close range weapons.

It was thus that he turned his thrusters on full blast, a white-hot flare of energy to keep them both in the air, and hopefully to burn his attacker.

It felt good to draw blood, his paws quickly covered in the stuff; he dug his claws in deeper to try and hold on while the Seeker flailed about, contemplating trying to slash rather than grip--but the way they were going, letting go with one would necessitate letting go with both.

Not that he had the option much longer, really. The blast of energy to his head felt like being knocked in the face with a sack of hammers on fire, and it was with a furious yowl that the beast let go and plummeted toward the ground, trying to flip to land on all fours and switching out shapes.

Still, being disoriented from the last attack, he touched down a little too hard for the proper lion shape, his open jaws snapping shut and rattling the teeth in his head, the damaged leg from earlier giving out beneath him and dropping him down on that side.

Trowa scanned the skies, hissing and shaking himself out, looking for his enemy.

Where are you...?

Starscream was bleeding rather profusely, and his flight pattern was completely fragged up because of the pain in his legs. Trowa letting go had sent him careening into the sky from the sudden lack of weight. He was almost unable to right himself, tumbling and twisting, trying to focus through the pain.

Frag you, you're a warrior, focus.

There was that clarity he so desperately needed. He straightened out (and oh, how his thrusters ached in protest) and managed to land more or less gracefully in a nearby tree. Which honestly didn't offer him much cover, but at least he could rest for a few moments.

Primus, he was exhausted now. His energy reserves were low, he didn't know how much longer he could keep flying like that, especially not with damaged legs. Frag, that was a lot of blood...

Looking a bit like it had been tossed around by a pissed-off elephant, the big cat crept forward, limping on the one leg and sore as hell all over, one eye swelling a bit; it was no great loss, given how much of his lifespan as a human had already been spent peeking out at the world with pretty much only one, but the pain was incredibly distracting at best.

He hadn't seen Starscream perch in the tree, but he could smell the blood. It called to him. Instinct said to follow it and finish off his prey before it could escape; human logic dictated that in this case, it really would be the best solution.

It was too difficult to try and scale said tree with four legs not intended for pulling themselves up bark; more so to do it with one of them not functioning very well. Trowa spent a moment dissolving down into his normal human shape, annoyed with the apparent rips in his sweater, and started to clamber up the trunk.

And with the fact that leaving the instincts behind meant he was prey to proper emotion again. Quatre had said not to kill anyone--or himself. 'No more death'.

...Well. You could do a lot of beating on someone before they got too close to kicking the bucket. And he'd seen Bakura inside. So there was a healer around.

A grunt, and he was slowly hoisting himself up to the nearest branch.

Starscream cursed under his breath, trying to hoist himself up using the branches, keeping away from Trowa. Slag this, slag it all, this was ridiculous. With proper air and if he hadn't been talking the boy would have been dead, just...

... well, perhaps not dead. Skyfire would be very upset if he killed the young human. And upset that he'd gotten in a fight at all. Still... though these human bodies were less durable than he was used to, they seemed able to take quite a bit of punishment before actually dying...

He got himself up a little higher, but that was obviously not going to work. Still, while he might be grounded, his lasers still worked. Mostly. He aimed a shot at Trowa, trying for the human's shoulder. Unfortunately, it was a fairly weak blast - all force, no heat, a punch at range, and not much of one at that.

Considering the state the two of them were presently in, a weak blast was enough to force even Trowa to overbalance, his leg unable to support a highly unplanned shift in weight while standing on bark covered in ice and snow; with a grunt, he slipped and rolled off the thick branch supporting him, landing instead stomach-first and draping over the one below with a great whuf of escaping air.

Add some heavy bruising--both flesh and bone--and a bloody chin to the list of injuries. Oh, and some splinters. They're gonna have fun patching him up afterwards, that's for sure. At least it's not like he doesn't already have scars everywhere?

Pulling himself up to a sitting position and clutching at the trunk, using the sheer size of the war form, he shook the tree, trying to dislodge Starscream--and a hell of a lot of debris--from his not-quite-comfortable perch some distance above.

Cut off the retreat path. Corner the enemy.

Never mind that the even that monster of a branch was beginning to creak underneath the massive beast's weight.

All Starscream could do was cling to the trunk of the tree as best he could, wrapping his arms and legs around it and holding on for dear life. The thing swayed back and forth violently, and he was very nearly thrown from it, but he clung as best he could.

He didn't even have time to try a second shot, focused entirely on not falling out of the damn tree.

Shake, shake, shake.

Internally wondering whether Starscream secretly had a barnacle mode of some sort, he continued trying to force the Seeker loose--at least until the bit he himself was perched on finally snapped and gave way with a loud crack.

Dropping to the ground like a rock with an accompanying surprised bellow, Trowa hit in much the same fashion he had earlier, if leaving a much bigger imprint in the snow this go-round.

Out of breath not for the first time, battered, tired, and not exactly sure where his folding knife had gone off to, Trowa decided to just... lay there on the wonderfully cold lawn. Rest for a while. Not even shifting shape. The ice felt lovely on the blast marks, anyway.

"Stay. There," he muttered.

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http://community.livejournal.com/capeandcowllogs/681844.html?thread=18438260#t18438260

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remus now would be a good time.

i'm not sure how much damage that would have done; let me know and I'll adjust for it after this?

that was about right; they're not terribly powerful lasers even in canon, unless he charges them up.

roger roger! didn't remember how much effect they had on humans here so yes \o/

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i think at this point it's just two tired mangled people having a slapfight XD

yeahh pretty much

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remus and quatre time?

lol yes plz

/grounds you both

/DESTROYS any chance Trowa had at retaining his badass dignity

fadsjlj

Aaaaand Quatre suddenly pulls ahead in the badass contest!