| abstract
| - Japan consists of four main islands: Hokkaido, Honshu, Shikoku, and Kyushu. Each is composed of volcanic highlands in the interior surrounded by coastal lowlands that widen in some areas to form plains. Of volcanic origin, the islands are subject to violent eruptions. Even worse are the constant earthquakes, some of which can be devastating and produce horrific tsunamis. Two-thirds of the land is forested, ranging from the broad-leaved evergreen forests to deciduous oak, beech, maple, and birch trees. Japan has one of the most prosperous industrial economies in the world, grounded firmly in the manufacture of automobiles and electronics as Japanese technology becomes increasingly more competitive in the world market. Its capital, Tokyo, is one of the most populous cities in the world, an international economic center that rivals New York and London. Contents: Impactor Zero Enterprises HQ Cargo Ship "Arashi" Obvious exits: It is a relatively boring day on Hokkkaido. There are people coming and going; hustling and bustling and all sorts of things happening to and fro. In particular, it is a boring day around the offices of Endo Steel Incorporated -- an advanced materials fabrication facility. It's even boring as a truck rolls up; a large flatbed painted in the dark green of the Japenese Self Defense force. Nobody gives it a second look -- missing as silly humans always do, the large purple insignia painted on the door. Nobody even gives the tank-like shape of the cargo on the trailer a look, covered with a tarp as it is. But are there others present? It's hard to say as the vehicle stops for a light and executes a right turn, heading towards the main gates of the facility. Seated at a large oversized chair is Impactor, appointed judge for this year's Mr. Roboto-con. Either as penalty for harsh terran relations or reluctance to do 'his' part of public relations, Ultra Magnus gave the Wrecker leader this assignment personally. "Feh, just go and foster some ties he says. Enjoy yerself, he says. Bah, what ah waste of time." Pactor groans to himself, leaning forward in the seat lazily.. growing more and more bored by the astro-klik. Before him, humans are walking the runway in homemade robot costumes. Bludgeon would agree that this is a punishment meant to be dealt out to only the most terrible individuals. Is Impactor one? Perhaps. This is the question for the masses. But either way, the 18 wheeler turns towards the factory complex and approaches the main gatehouse. A bored security guard steps out to take a badge .... and realizes two things. One, the vehicle isn't slowing down -- two, there isn't anyone driving it. He manages to just barely dive aside as the transport crashes the gate doing nintey eight, and lets those truckers roll. Ten four. It continues accelerating -- heading to the main factory complex now as the tank on the back simply engages the neutrals and rolls off the back, letting the vehicle continue ahead and reveal what it was -- a simple drone, built and camoflauged for the purpose as it crashes through the wall of the factory and the tank rumbles in behind it. There is no cannon firing yet, or assault on the masses of now screaming people -- just a giant hole in the factory wall and a tank rumbling around surveying for something. Impactor steps up from his seat, making his way for the exit. "Sorry folks, just need some fresh air." he tries to mask his disinterest, pushing the cargo door open (regular terran doors wouldn't suffice) and stepping out into the streets. The convention was held in a secluded portion of the community, mainly surrounded by warehouses and office buildings. Perhaps they didn't want the eccentric attendees seen by the more prestigious citizens? Then again, it was most likely an oversight. One hand rested on the small lower-end of his back, Impactor sighs and looks across the lot. "Ugh, I think I'd rather be run through one ah Kup's drills then be here." he muses to himself, as the faint cries of a security guard can be discerned in the background. Growing curious, the Wrecker leader stomps his way towards the sound of the distress.. and crash. "Hooboy, now we're talkin'!" Bludgeon is actually in as close to a good mood as Bludgeon gets; thus far this is going remarkably well. The 'transport' awaits as he shifts into Robot mode, running a scanner over some piles of what appear to be zero-g manafactured metals. This is perfect for what he has in mind. Light, strong, and all of the tensile strength qualities that the medic had requested. He is oblivious for the moment of the Autobot outside that he does not even know. Why would he be here, afterall? He bends to collect an armload of the advanced compounds, stepping outside the holed wall for a moment. Bludgeon is now a robot. Rushing up to the Autobot's side, the security guard frantically screams at Impactor for help. "Whoa buddy, hold on.. where's that dang translater when ya need 'em? Ah frag it, I got tha gist.. stay back will ya?" Stomping forward head first, as is the Wrecker way, Impactor rounds the corner and spies the 'drone' transform.. and into Bludgeon. "Hey Blud, longtime no see. Didn't know you were slummin' it nowadays, time musta been cruel!" he jests, drawing his high intensity laser pistol and firing off some shots at the Decepticon's unprotected flank. Impactor's shot strikes Bludgeon in the side; searing into armor plating and through it -- sizzling a bit of the circuitry beneath. Green and brown plating dribble in a red, molten line down his flank, but Bludgeon seems not to be entirely impaired. He simply inclines his head for a moment at Impactor and begins walking towards him at a calm and measured pace; taking a pot-shot at him with is electrical cannon -- a blue ball of energy sinking towards the Autobot's torso. "I thought you were deactivated inside an asteroid somewhere; bleeding out your last bits of energy into space." Moving to avoid the shot directly, it appears Impactor is either too slow or foolish.. or both, as the blue ball of electrical cackling energy buries itself deep inside his torso. The lower left plating is quickly eaten away, revealing a mass of wires and circuitry beneath. But through it all, the Wrecker grits and moves forward still. "Deactivated? Nah, I've been keepin' the bots safe from the real big bad.. while it seems you got a nowhere postin'." he responds, dropping the pistol and taking aim with his harpoon hand. "Can't say they thought too highly of ya, eh?" The harpoon shoots from it's forearm housing, the line's reeling sound echoing in the alleyway as it slinks it's way through the air.. aimed at Bludgeon's shoulder plating. "Because they need you to protect them." Bludgeon's sarcastic quip comes quickly, and he barely seems to flinch when the armor piercing harpoon impacts into his shoulder pauldron. It goes deep, loding there with a thud and cracking away external plating. He doesn't respond at all, just keeps walking until the line is taut and then . . . he feathers his anti-gravs and properly lunges for the other, debris from the shattered wall flying around him when he does. The intent is to use the line's taut force for extra speed as his signature weapon appears in his hand. A small cylinder ignites into a brilliant orange energy blade as he attempts to bisect both the line and it's launcher arm, though the harpoon is going to stay right where it is. Perhaps Impactor should think twice about consuming enerhol, even when on duty as a guest judge at a convention. Through surprise and limited reaction time, Bludgeon's strike is swift and sound. Not only does it sever the reinforced line, but it slices deep into the Wrecker's already amputated fore-arm.. rendering the launcher device null and void. Throwing himself backwards, Impactor collides with the wall and sends a shower of rubble down atop his head.. mere fleshwounds compared to the open gouge on his arm and steady flow of energon loss. Struggling against the building's rubble, Impactor manages to clear his top half of the cobblestone. "That's it you slag-heap, no more playin' nice bot!" His shoulder cannon afixed to Bludgeon's location, Impactor fires off a high density charge of the superheated plasma.. the pink globule whirling through the air at it's intended target. Bludgeon moves with Impactor as he flies backwards; attempting to keep the distance between them as close as possible. He is aware as much as anyone else that he's outgunned at range and that his forte is point blank and so he charges the intervening ground with as much speed as he can muster. The same rubble that bounces off of Impactor bounces off of him as he tries to keep chest to chest with the other combatant. The downside to much of this is that he can't bring his sword into play due to the close range. Not that it matters after he is is cannoned. The plasma weapon hits him dead center; blowing him back several transformer lengths in an explosion of superheated steam and waste energy until he rests against the opposite wall of the factory in much the same position. He is quick to shake it off, however; and thus far has not shown a single sign of pain. He rises back to his feet and charges the ground again while sending off a barrage of electric blasts from his arm-cannon. Out of pure reaction and instinct, Impactor raises his already demolished forearm before his face to block the incoming shots. And as a result, adding injury to injury, shots ring clear through the forearm and blacken his face with smudges. ALthough, it did manage to stem the flow of energon by way of cauterization. Although still buried, Impactor tries to aim a couple of punches Bludgeon's way. "What tha heck you doin' planetside, and in the land of tha risin' sun!" Bludgeon is punched! Twice! One might notice that Bludgeon isn't really even focusing on dodging or defending himself and is wracking up some damage as a result. Here and there, his armor is cracked -- and the second punch shatters a section over his midline that was already melted by the initial plasma cannon blast. A few blue sparks show out, and he stiffens just briefly as he swats back at Impactor. This is a diversion, however, as his blade slices out and hits . . nothing. Or at least it appears to hit nothing. "I merely came to borrow a cup of ener-sugar." Then the point of his attack is revealed as he leaps back, hoping the support beam he severed will bring the roof down on Impactor. This has been sloppy as anything, so far, and he chides himself mentally for it. Punches connecting, Impactor rises from the rubble and sneers when Bludgeon's bladed strike is well of it's mark. "Ha, must ah knocked ah screw loose in ya!" he gruffs, displacing his trademark mace from subspace. Hefting the weapon in hand, the Wrecker leader knocks it off his booted feet with two large CLANKS. The mace, named Facebreaker, has visible notches on it's hilt.. one for every Decepticon dispatched in one on one combat. "Seems ya bit off more than you could chew.. you been away a long time, unnaccostomed to this place and it's culture. Here.." Impactor muses, striding forward and taking aim with the mace. "Lemme help, it's called baseball.. BATTER UP!" the Wrecker shouts, when the focus of Bludgeon's attack becomes painfully clear. Mid-swing, Impactor realizes that he wasn't aiming at him at all.. but rather, the main support beam for the entire ceiling. Before even an exclamation or curse can be voiced, as the roof comes down with a large CRASH. Bludgeon stands stotically and silently in a defensive posture as Impactor draws his mace. His energy blade has been flipped upside-down so that the pulsing point faces downwards in his clenched hand; and he is ready to defend himself if it comes to that. He relaxes visibly, almost seeming to smile as the other begins to step forward. Then . . Well, the roof comes down. That isn't quite what he planned as the collapse is a bit more extensive than he had in mind and he too, finds himself buried beneath tons of debris. It is only luck and a last minute lunge to the side that saves him from being buried. This entire thing has been dirty in the extreme, indeed. He rises; sparking and broken from a few places as he returns his sword to it's sheathe. Bending, he rummages for a second and takes the large bundle of steel under his arm and rises upwards. He pauses, looking towards where he expects Impactor to be and muses stabbing him with something . . but there is no honor in that. Instead, he just dissapears; attempting to beat it as quickly as he can. Impactor is soundly buried under the debris, no hope of scurrying out like a rat to make chase. Deep throated engines arrive here in Japan much faster than they should have gotten to him! Cruising in over Japan, Fanfares' huge, brightly decorated form heads towards the warehouses, easily finding the broken one. He slows carefully, circling. A rumble into his radio and then he shifts his wings - tilting them up to hover, the downblast almost hurricane in power as the Gumbies slide down on ropes from his rear hatchway.
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