[closed] Attempt at boss battle number two

[herald_ramjet]

WHO: Ramjet, Megatronus, Prima
WHERE: Around/above Haven
WHEN:Around now (today/tomorrow)
WHAT: Attempted Herald Smackdown. It's a threesome
WARNINGS: Violence, Ramjet, some temporary mutilation etc.

It didn't matter if things weren't exactly as they should... there was the smell, the taste, the presence of chaos in the air, heady like rariefied energon. It had Ramjet somewhat distracted, and he'd let himself be pulled in towards the Haven and the Junk Pile.

His energies itched.

To lash out, to destroy, to change. To turn this world, or anyone he could come across inside out and maybe empower a Glyphless or two. For now, he'd separated from Prime; the damage was done anyway.

And so he stalked, nearly vibrating, aura flaring about him and burning the reality around him into tortured nothing and then beyond, as it twisted.

It was almost enough to miss the faint, insistent call that something was... coming.

Comments

[herald_ramjet]

It was nearly amusing how fire apparently tied both the past and the "present" together. A forge, one could suppose, was a chaotic pit of potential temperance, where only outside forces brought out steel... or a useless, melted mess. Now, as for which the supposedly ordered-entropy Megatronus lorded over at the moment heralded... A good question.

"Contrary to appearances otherwise and to the actions of some of my other collegues, Megatronus, I do like to make my plans," Ramjet said with a tilt of his helm and a twitch of his optics that might suggest a grin.

Not that most of them didn't favour planning, present company not excluded, but some of them tended to get... hasty. Arrogant, one could say. Ramjet, despite the raging, all-consuming inferno of barely balanced forces of self, was a shade more careful, even when he had the use of more powerful arsenals, like Nemesis Prime.

Parts twisted and heaved while the wingblade grew some tens of feet via a bright flash of energy surrounding it. Eyeing the future beytrayer of Primus, Ramjet slowly moved sideways and the flickering, tarished form slipping tentacles showing off his faint hesitation in how to deal with this battle.

He'd survive either way. Even keeping everything as it was presently wouldn't necessarily mean he'd lose, but it'd mean Megatronus had a lot more reach on him.

[megatronicpolarity]

As someone who most often had a need to express himself from behind a mask, Megatronus had become adept at identifying those same subtle cues on the faces of others. He saw the jet's smirk, and he met it with a dark glower more than worthy of the mech he would become.

"The only thing you should be planning for is your own funeral. You won't have time for anything else."

Megatronus, in fact, was used to being at a height disadvantage among his brothers. Those most willing to spar invariably had several feet over him – and he liked the challenge of it. Ravaging a smaller jet promised him very little in the way of entertainment.

He eyed the blade in his hand and the shifting tentacles oozing from between Ramjet's plating. Those seams looked like they'd make promising holds, but even as he watched they continued to pulse and shift. They wouldn't prove a reliable weakness with how easily they could reseal themselves. No, with a mech who was as uncertain of his form as this, it was better to treat him as a single mass. A treacherous, corrupted mass to be smelted or bodyslammed into oblivion.

The first step, of course, remained getting a reliable grip on him.

He decided to test the other mech's reflexes. He lunged towards Ramjet, hand going for one of his wings again. Even compared to a jet, Megatronus was quick on his feet.

[herald_ramjet]

Megatronus, anyone ever tell you you have a wing-fetish?

And he was fast, that was easy to tell. There were a few choices and Ramjet, while he did prefer Vector's half-arm-length's distance style of fighting, was at the least familiar with Fallen's style.

A style which obviously didn't appreciably differ between the past and the present. Or future, in this case. Avoiding the lunge, given that Megatornus was so much larger, would be harder than not to do, unless he was going to flee.

So instead Ramjet teleported just enough sideways to make sure his wing was out of reach even as they crashed together, at least one huge dent partly crushing the side of his cockpit where most of the Firstforged's weight hit. It didn't matter. Ramjet dug his free hand into the arm that would've torn a wing off, claws on the tips burrowing down and the aura that had nothing to do with Unicron seeping into the cracks.

For a brief moment, they were face to face, Ramjet's faceplates splitting open.

"How does the madness and sideways, non-angular angles of unreality differ from entropy and chaos, Megatronus?" The whisper slid along no angles, wavering somewhere between as Ramjet's makeshift mouth rasped right against the side of the grille Megatronus called a mask. Perhaps being up this close, it would be obvious he was no simple creature of Unicron, even as a Herald.

And then Ramjet quickly teleported away again, but only so far, appearing behind the Prime and lashing out with his wingblade.