(Log) Training Montage Part 1

From Megaman Mush Wiki

WHO: Cinnamon, Signas, Cameo From Layer
WHAT: Signas interrupts Cinnamon's training to give her a few pointers on punching people.
WHERE: Castle Schwarzheim - Training
WHEN: Thursday, April 24, 2221

Castle Schwarzheim - Training Hall

Checkpoint Charlie - Stand Alone Complex

The Stand Alone Complex is an vast underground biosphere, carved out under the Rocky Mountains. The 'sky' is created by a strange blue-green lichen that kind of, if you don't think too hard, looks like sky. The lichen is broken occasionally by an inset light that simulates the sun.

The rock floor has been covered over with loam in much of the chamber for the purposes of subterreanean agriculture. The fields, formerly organized into neat parcels, have gone to seed with a variety of now exotic staple crops; soybeans, wheat, corn. The only break in the fields is the long four-lane wide concrete road strip that runs upward, probably back toward the surface. The road appears to be in disrepair, chipped and cracked from heavy use.

A tall wall once separated the fields from the city. Only rubble remains around the perimeter, marking off where the last defenses used to be. Guard towers continue to stand at the corners of the settlement, but now the inner city is clearly visible from the fields; assorted buildings like you'd find on any military base, as well as facilities to process the agricultural yield of the area. The grain silos appear to be in disuse.

There is a one-story tall structure in the center called 'ADMINISTRATIVE CONTROL' that leads down to the gate chamber. The Black SHIELD logo just below the letters appears to have been damaged.

World War Z - The Surface World

The world did not end in fire or ice, but by the rapacious hunger of the living dead. There is not a place in this world that is free of the nightmare. The last enclaves of humanity and Reploid life are on the edge of collapse. An ever mutating, ever evolving plague will ultimately reduce every achievement of the last ten thousand years to naught.

Checkpoint Charlie is located in the middle of what used to be the United States. Buried underneath the Rocky Mountains and heavily fortified against the zombie horde, it is the place where the few relatively sane people left attempt to find a way to help themselves to the remaining spoils of a great empire. Eventually, they too will fall.

The approximate IC time is: Thu Apr 24 14:33:48 2221 EST

Occasionally Cinnamon feels like her brain is going a thousand different directions, too. Of course, hers wasn't made for the task, and that's why she goes to the training room. Sometimes you just need to concentrate on one thing, get all that excess energy out, exhaust yourself. Then refocus.

Cinnamon is alerted of someone approaching; other than the occasional cry of effort as she lunges or goes into a high kick, and the sound of her own feet on trampled wheat, Cinnamon's fighting is quiet. Signas makes noise. Cinnamon stops once he gets to the edge of the cleared circle and lets the program run itself out. She straightens back up and pulls her hair back with one hand. "Hey! Um, not bad. It's -- slower than it used to be, a little bit. It's heavy. But I've had a lot of practice with it now, so."

"I see," replies the Diplomat, in a tone that says 'Yes, I actually do see what you mean'. "It can be... difficult to adjust from one style or weapon to another," he comments. As a guy who has wielded about fifty signature weapons in the past 5 years, he certainly know whats he's talking about. "You are handling it well. But there is still some awkwardness to your movements. You are yet uncertain of your will."

Signas' eyes narrow, piercing. His hands clasp behind his back. "In combat, economy is the most important factor. Others may try to convince you that it is 'power' or 'skill' or 'fighting spirit', and they are right to a degree. All of these things have their place. But Economy is the foundation of effective combat."

Cinnamon's weapons -- as with many reploids -- are all within her own body. Even the flamethrower and missile launcher are all extensions of her form rather than seperate weapons to be dropped or discarded. Mike trained her in basic firearms, but has had little need to use them. She wields nothing except herself, which may speak volumes about her uncertainty.

Cinnamon frowns a little above the facemask. Economy is -- well, something she studies rather than anything relating to combat. She gets what he means (maybe), but not in those terms...

"Power conservation?" Cinnamon attempts. "Like -- doing stuff that works, and doing it as quickly as possible."

"Economy of power, yes, at its core. Economy of movement and action on its surface." Signas drops into a fighting stance, remaining completely still as he stares at the opposite wall. "Never /act/," he says quietly. "Only /re/act."

Almost faster than the eye can follow, Signas' thumb and forefinger are in the air, gripping something. A fly, still alive and well, between his fingers. "Observe. Examine. Predict. React," he recites. "These are the steps one must follow."

Signas drops into a fighting stance. Cinnamon's reaction is immediate, and while she isn't the swiftest, it is obviously fast enough that she isn't thinking about it. The young Hunter drops into a fighting stance in response, locking eyes with Signas and waiting for him to move.

Except it strikes her after a second that Signas isn't going to move against /her/. Cinnamon, puzzled, watches him while the realization slowly dawns, and she relaxes her kata and rights herself again as Signas holds up a fly. She's a little wide-eyed, seeing the insect still buzz.

"Whoah," Cinnamon says in reply.

"Precisely," Signas replies, opening his fingers and releasing the fly. It buzzes off in annoyance. "Many martial arts, while a good way to practice discipline and focus, lack economy."

His stance shifts to face Cinnamon. "The only master who can teach you economy of movements is YOU. The only one who can create an effective and economical fighting style is YOU." Signas looks intense. "Practice, self-knowledge, will, confidence... and spirit. These will form the basis of your Cinnamon-Style Martial Arts. Only YOU know how YOU fight most effectively. It is in your mind. It is in your soul. It is in your hands and feet and your whole body. You have only to uncover it."

He nods. "Come. Practice. Show me."

Signas speaks with confidence. Maybe because he's had so much time to build it or something. Cinnamon is smart enough -- or maybe wise enough -- to hear the ring of truth in what the elder Hunter says, but putting it into /practice/ is something else entirely. And besides, 'Cinnamon-style' sounds kind of silly. She'll need to think of a better name.

Signas gestures. Cinnamon hesitates only briefly. "What, the program again? Or like, you?" she asks, for clarification. She doesn't doubt /his/ fighting ability -- she heard the stories of outside Paris.

Signas' face remains stoic. "No program will teach you how to fight, Cinnamon," is all he says. He remains in his stance, waiting.

Well, it's true enough. No program has taught Cinnamon how to fight like she did. The tutorials Cossack gave her taught her balance, weapon usage, and a few other things, but nothing makes up for direct experience.

Signas is far taller than Cinnamon. And probably faster. And -- well, okay, that's not a good way to think of things. Just do it. Cinnamon readopts her earlier stance, with a more anticipatory note to it; after a second of looking at Signas, watching him carefully, Cinnamon makes a false first shot with her right hand and drives in towards his torso with the left.

Cinnamon strikes you with a glancing hit from her Punch attack

Signas does not move until the second fist has struck his chest. He accepts the blow. "Know your limits. Know your strength. Do not be afraid to take a hit." Then, his torso twists. One hand reaches up to grab the fist. He turns, and the arm snaps out, using Cinnamon's momentum and a little bit of Signas' mammoth strength to send her flying away.

"Do not act. /Re/act," he reiterates calmly.

You strike Cinnamon with a glancing hit from your Throw attack.

Cinnamon's eyes fly wide as she strikes -- and doesn't get the chance to pull back again. She /thought/ it was a quick hit, but Signas's reactions are amazingly fast. Cinnamon is grabbed by the arm and her own momentum is used against her.

Cinnamon adapts with surprising speed. She strikes the trampled-down grain, sending up a small cloud of dust motes, but she saves the otherwise-awkward landing with a roll, skidding around and plowing one hand into the earth until she pulls herself around to face Signas again in a one-kneed kneel.

Cinnamon pushes her foot into the ground, ready to spring -- and then halts herself, half-jumping before she grabs ahold of herself. Giving Signas a very careful eye, Cinnamon rises back up into a proper fighting stands.

And stays there, this time, without jumping forward. She used to get tests like this all the time. Maybe she can intuit what he means.

"Very good recovery, Cinnamon," Signas intones, calmly but swiftly adjusting his stance to face her again. "Your reaction speed is good. But it can be better."

The Diplomat edges towards Cinnamon, eyes locked on her. "Your instincts are a guide, but they are not a rule. Some say merely 'trust your instincts'. Others say 'bury your instincts'. As in all things, you must find a middle path."

For Signas, the 'middle path' is apparently Blinking behind Cinnamon and attempting to sweep her feet out from under her.

You strike Cinnamon with a glancing hit from your Kick attack.

Signas begins to edge towards Cinnamon, a little at a time. Cinnamon resists the urge to back away -- there's only so much room in the circle -- and besides, the point is to confront, not to escape. Stand up to it. Instead of dodging away, Cinnamon begins edging around the circle in response, seeking room. She keeps her eyes locked on Signas's, instead of looking at his hands or feet. Somebody's trained her.

And then he disappears, which puts an end to /that/ nonsense. Signas kicks at Cinnamon's feet; it's a good thing he's made of metal, because those boots of hers are heavy and tough. Signas's massive strength, however -- and his catching her unawares -- serves him well. Cinnamon makes a little muffled squeak under her mask as she's promptly sideswiped, falling to the ground with a light thud.

Even this, however, doesn't mean she does a faceplant. Cinnamon catches herself with her hands before she can take further damage, and promptly flips herself over. She tries to snag one of Signas's feet between her ankles -- and flip him over in response, rather than waste time scrambling back up.

Cinnamon strikes you with a minor hit from her Krav Maga Technique attack

"Good-- hng-- choice, Cinnamon," Signas says, falling sideways from the leg lock. Thinking fast, he stiff-arms the ground and brings himself into a handspring, legs wrenching free of the Krav Maga move, which has nonetheless warped his leg armor.

Landing on his feet with a thud, Signas nods to Cinnamon. "You are doing well, but still you hesitate. Fast! Fluid! Combat is a raging river. You have only to avoid the rocks and make the current your ally."

Signas charges forward, swinging his undamaged leg back, then forward... aiming to PUNT the ground-bound Cinnamon.

You strike Cinnamon with a glancing hit from your Generic Melee attack.

Got him!

Cinnamon has a leglock that could crush mets. She manages to topple Signas down onto the flattened grain, but as soon as he's down, Cinnamon has to struggle to extract herself again, something that proves to her detriment. Her only reply to Signas's comments is a sort of muffled sound of exertion; one that turns pained when Signas draws back and lands a solid kick right in her armoured ribcage while she's trying to get up. Cinnamon manages not to fall over again but the dent it leaves is considerable.

Keep the flow of combat. Cinnamon starts pushing herself; she tries to grab ahold of Signas's ankle while he's still got the kick out, and returns his favour by taking her right hand and cracking it sideways into his knee while it's straight out. Cinnamon is far stronger than she looks -- if she can get him, it'll /hurt/.

Cinnamon strikes you with a minor hit from her Iron Strike attack

It does indeed hurt! Signas' leg does not break, but the blow sends him tumbling sideways and to the ground. The impact crushes several blades of wheat and puts a dent in the ground. Signas rolls sideways, away from Cinnamon, and performs a spin kick to get back to his feet just to make sure he's got room to work.

"Very good. You are picking it up quickly, Cinnamon," Signas comments, keeping his full weight off the damaged knee. Then, in a flash, his elbow is sweeping for the side of Cinnamon's head, with more force than his previous attacks. "Let us 'kick it up a notch', then."

You miss Cinnamon with your Pointed Remarks attack.

Uh-oh. She knows what /that/ means.

There is, however, a somewhat satisfied look in Cinnamon's eyes when she finally manages to scramble back up. Signas is far larger than her, and he's a swifter, stronger opponent -- but that also means he /can/ push her. She'll get a fight out of this. And maybe she can improve a bit. The young girl absently brushes bits of broken wheat away from her armour, trying not to favour the dent in her side, and crouches again. Height -- or the lack of it -- is an advantage she feels instinctively.

Signas brings an elbow in for her head. He strikes only hair; Cinnamon, instead of dodging away from the blow, dives on the inside of it. She attempts to use Signas's own force against him and actually /lift/ the massive reploid over her own head in a throw.

Doesn't this feel familiar?

Cinnamon strikes you with a glancing hit from her Saikido Technique attack

Signas seems to be appraising Cinnamon's responses even as he attacks. Watching and observing. The elbow hits nothing but hair, and Cinnamon uses both her size and Signas' momentum against him. He looks... satisfied, as he slams into the ground behind Cinnamon.

He doesn't bother to get up. His hands dig into the ground, and both feet slam out behind him, aiming diagonally up from his position on the ground, striking for Cinnamon's torso. "Even in defeat, find your advantage!"

You strike Cinnamon with a solid hit from your Cross Counter attack.

Cinnamon carries through with the move. Where'd she learn something like that? They probably don't teach it in Magical Girl School. (Do they?)

Signas is slammed into the ground full-force and Cinnamon turns with the move. The retaliation, however, is as unexpected as it is brutal, and Cinnamon goes flying backwards, literally knocked over by the force of Signas's feet. She hits the edge of the grain circle and falls through it for a moment, landing hard and out of breath and with a nice Signas-foot-shaped dent in her torso.

Cinnamon winces as she tries to get back up; she /just/ got hip articulation a few months ago and now it's all wrecked! A good thing this is only the training room, where damage is swiftly fixed. For now, Cinnamon is free to push herself even harder in retaliation, and she does. Cinnamon flings herself for Signas, springing up to try and close the distance before the far-larger reploid can rise again -- and then she dives, driving an elbow straight for the middle of his back.

This may hurt.

Cinnamon misses you with her American Ingenuity attack.

Or not.

"Calm yourself. Think AS you fight," Signas says levelly, turning just in time to reach up and catch Cinnamon rather than getting elbowed in the back. "Think THEN fight is no good. The two must be in parallel."

Signas almost gently alters Cinnamon's trajectory, flinging her like a missile towards the horizon. "Take a moment to digest that. I will be here when you make your way back."

You strike Cinnamon with a minor hit from your Pressed Release attack.

Cinnamon lands heavily in Signas's arms, the force of her slam-dive held for just a moment. Her sea-green eyes are widened and look down at Signas in an expression that says it all: oh /crap/.

The white-and-red reploid gets flung away from Signas, spun out from the center once again. He puts a lot of force behind the throw, and for a few seconds of freefall Cinnamon is flailing and a little panicky, trying to right herself before she hits the ground. Ohcrapohcrapohcrap wait I can fly!

Cinnamon slams on her hoverjets. The result is, for a brief second, an even /more/ uncontrolled flight, but then the antigrav stabilizes. She still hits the ground awkwardly, inside the growing field, but without the armor-denting blow that it would have been.

Cinnamon is flushing a little when she scrambles back up to her feet; that was kind of undignified and not very good and she knows it. Cinnamon dives back in towards Signas, who has undoubtedly righted himself in the interim, and instead of driving straight into him stops at a point just before and delivers a sharp roundhouse kick, a leap that will hopefully bring her foot up to head level instead of waist (like she is right now). She follows it up with a swift flurry of blows -- more punches and kicks -- aimed either at the knees or upwards at Signas's torso. He's too tall for any reliable shoulder or elbow strikes, at least while he's standing.

Cinnamon strikes you with a minor hit from her Iron Combo attack

Signas did not quite expect Cinnamon to recover so swiftly. As a result, when Cinnamon comes flying back, he is... reading a book?

Signas looks up from the book as she approaches, and his eyes widen. Unable to put in a bookmark in time, he is forced to use his left index finger to hold his place, putting it essentially out of commission. This extra weight on the side of his body throws off his motions a little, and most of Cinnamon's strikes hit home. Particularly the opening kick, which rattles his braincase and sets his vision to blurring.

Signas falls back, and would smile if he could. "Very good, very good," he says, shaking his head. He takes a moment to slip a bookmark into his book and slip it back into subspace, before commencing his counter-attack. "This just in: Cinnamon is much better at fighting than she thinks!" Signas' arms raise, then both chop down towards her shoulders.

You strike Cinnamon with a major hit from your Official Press Statement attack.

Cinnamon can't quite believe it either when she closes in on Signas. One second she's driving towards him to kick and is that a BOOK he's holding?!

But it's too late to back out now. Cinnamon slams the kick home and is swift to follow it up. When Signas is downed and takes a moment to put a mark in his book, Cinnamon backs away cautiously, arms up in defense. He was reading a book and he's smiling and if there's ANYTHING Cinnamon knows, it's that when someone does that in the middle of a fight then they're planning something and probably about to whup your --

CRUNCH.

Having her arms up does no good. Signas is too /huge/ for that to be an adequate defense -- especially from above. His hands slam down onto her shoulders and Cinnamon is literally knocked to her knees with the force of the blow. It's that or lose her arms. The left one is practically shorn straight off; Signas's land dents it heavily and flattens her collarbone and wrenches her neck slightly out of place. Cinnamon can't help but cry out at that, and this time it takes her a moment to get back up.

She does so shakily but forcefully; Cinnamon's still got fight left in her. Stubborn girl. She tries to move her left arm and gets a jerky motion followed by a shower of sparks; instead, Cinnamon clenches her right hand, hard, and forces a few breaths through to try and work up the gumption. Fighting is going to be tough now. Were this a real battle, she'd run -- but it's just the training room, and she can tough it out.

"I'm not good enough though," Cinnamon replies, muffled under the mask. She finally works up her courage enough -- she thrusts a hand towards Signas's chest. Her hand BURNS WITH AN AWESOME POWER, and also with all the energy she can muster. "Not yet. I keep getting beat!"

Cinnamon strikes you with a solid hit from her Divine Hand attack

"Spirit," Signas breathes, before the hand slams into his chest, ripping the armor clean off and exposing the sparking circuitry beneath. He staggers back a few steps, leaking from his chest and now his previously-wounded knee, but he looks pleased.

"Excellent! Adapt and strike. Show us your spirit."

Signas raises one hand to his chest, then pulls it away, looking pensively at what passes for blood in his reploid body. He grunts. "Hh. That was a powerful strike. Focus your will in your hands. Your will becomes your weapon."

Signas hand, stained with his own lifeblood, begins to glow as well. It glows pink, pulsing and humming as a powerful dynami revvs up in his forearm. Sparks dance. He looks at it distantly, then transfers an intense gaze to Cinnamon. "Your will must be sufficient to crush an empire, Cinnamon."

The Diplomat races forward, fist leaving a streaking after-image of pink in his wake. Before the banjos can even be answered, the Will of Signas strikes. "IMPACT KNUCKLE!"

You strike Cinnamon with a major hit from your Impact Knuckle attack.

Cinnamon falls to the ground, unconscious, due to massive systems damage.

If she /really/ wanted to show her spirit, she'd have used the kitty gloves.

As it stands, the blow is sufficient to knock Signas back, and Cinnamon pulls her own hand back as well. But it's slow, she can feel it, and her reactions just aren't as good. And --

Signas pins Cinnamon with a look. The stare is so /intense/, and Cinnamon's only seen a look like that a few times in her life. Her will is only up to it in some aspects. She freezes at a critical moment, not that speed might have done her much good anyways. Cinnamon barely has time to brace both arms in front of herself -- protecting her head, and the generator -- and then the Impact Knuckle strikes home. Signas can feel metal rend and tear and then Cinnamon goes flying backwards, into the long golden grain, and she disappears.

About ten seconds or so after that, once the echo has died down, Cinnamon stands back up and re-emerges, looking vaguely embarassed and damage-free. The training room has reset the bout, after a sound defeat.

Signas' holographic wounds retreat, and with them the phantom pains. He straightens, lowers his hand, and looks upwards. The intensity in his eyes fades by degrees, and is gone by the time he looks back down at Cinnamon. He emerges from the battle with a professional demeanour, resuming his Game Face.

"Cinnamon. You are improving every time," he says, walking towards the smaller Hunter. "Learn to trust your will, and learn when to trust your instincts. Most importantly, learn to trust yourself and ride the flow of the battle. Remember: Economy." He rests a hand on Cinnamon's shoulder. "Keep your lessons in your heart, and the next time I have no doubt that your spirit will overpower even mine."

From the sidelines, off perhaps in an unnoticeable, more far off part of the simulator, a smile crosses on Layer's face.

"Doing better... not quite there, but better... a little sparring aught to polish your style." She mumbles to herself, having seen the tail end of the fight that raged on. With a smirk, she begins to head out, as quietly as she came.

Sometimes Cinnamon seems oddly content, even in the middle of whatever chaos the world has to present to her. And then there's times like these, where she's an odd combination of puppydog-eager and frustrated at her own incompetence. It is an odd cycle of pushing/not-pushing her own limits that seems to come and go sporadically.

Cinnamon cycles a few breaths under the facemask, cooling herself down. It takes a little longer; she finally looks up when Signas settles a massive hand on her shoulder. Cinnamon feels oddly tiny in that moment. She gives a determined nod. "I will. Promise," she swears, as if there were any doubt.

"I know," Signas responds. With a final flat-mouthed Signasmile, he removes his hand from her shoulder and heads towards the exit. As he walks, his hands move unconsciously to clasp behind his back. The fragment of his mind which was focused on the Here And Now floats off, rejoining the collective. As he walks, he thinks. Searching for answers. Searching for tactics. Searching for truth.

There is still much to be done.