The Masked Dreadnaught, the Interdimensional Lucha Libre Alliance’s glorious flagship and mobile headquarters, had taken up station over the world of Hipposs, an arid globe of vast deserts and broken badlands interspersed with intensely tropical oases of life. A Vendetta had been called, and the world of Hipposs had been chosen as the field of battle where two masked souls would clash in a holy trial where Victory would be the judge.

The challenge had been issued and accepted, the fighters were awaiting. All that was left…was the Ring.

The Masked Dreadnaught’s bombardment weapons cycled, sending their mighty payload rocketing down to the surface of Hipposs in a shroud of smoke and flame. A double-ended fifty-foot spike of battle steel, carrying with it the masksignias of generations of Luchalliance champions and encircled by its own massive Belt of Kings, bearing the plain white mask which marked the Ring as the most impartial and virtuous of judges. Amidst the broken, cluttered rock wastes and badlands of New Arizona, the Ring descended, bringing with it flame and fury and the promise of Glorious Combat.

After the resounding thunder of the Ring’s impact, anointed machinery began to spill from panels opened in its flanks. Huge, high-output floodlights burned the heavens with their light, while the Ring’s subordinate hoverdrones deployed the Posts. The miniature Rings dug into the sandy stone of New Arizona, connecting to each other with cords of plasma in the hundred square meter standard Ring of the Luchalliance.

And above it all, hundreds of meters tall, the Commissioner of the Luchalliance grinned beneath his purple mask, held his hands up into the air, and roared.

“REJOICE, PEOPLE OF HIPPOSS! YOUR WORLD HAS BEEN CHOSEN AS THE SACRED BATTLEGROUND FOR THIS MOST GLOOORIOUS OF CONTESTS! TWO SOULS LOCKED IN STRUGGLE, SEEKING THE DIVINE JUSTICE OF THE RING, HAVE COME TO TEST THEIR MIGHT ON YOUR SOIL! IN THE NAME OF GLOOOOOOOOOOORIOOUUSS COMBAT, LET THOSE WHO SEEK JUSTICE QUENCH THEIR THIRST FOR THE DIVINE CONFLICT, THE SUPREME STRUGGLE, THE ULTIMATE CONTEST OF STRENGTH AND SKILL! MAY THE GODS GUIDE THE HANDS OF THE JUST AND REND THE MASKS OF THE WICKED!”

“LET THE GAMES BEEEGIIIIIIIIN!”

There was no music in this case. No, just an entrance. Flying through the cosmos, hurtling past the stratosphere like a bat out of hell, something akin to silver fireball flung down and down and down, until it landed dead center in the middle of the ‘ring’ provided. Having done a sort of turn and flip mid-flight, the Synthetic Monster known as Ultron had quite literally landed. Still was the robot for a few moments, it’s features dark until a light blink of red from the thing slit based eyes of the robot literally winked to life. A loud constant shift if metal could be heard and seen as the synthetic rose from its mostly kneeled position and peered up. In depth motion sensors picked up the cause of this Appetizer before the main course and the Synthetic peered upward towards the sky, metal hands clenched into fists.

“Hmph.”

Its very posturing, even for a robot, conveyed a sense of annoyance. Would it secretly revel in the combat about to be engaged? Yes, very, but that didn’t mean the antics before and during and after would be enjoyed one bit. The seven foot six inch battle ready platform did both an inner and outer ‘checklist’ of its own body. Stratospheric entry was not something it hadn’t done before, but it was good to ensure everything was working while doing it. Joints, specifically on the knees and elbows were shifted constantly and rolled or twisted lightly. Arms moved back occasionally to check the physical inner functioning of the chest and lower waste level and as one final sweep, the head was rolled on its shoulders. This quick and simple movement, along with a full systems check inwardly ensured nothing was damaged or weakened upon planetary entrance. This was good, it would assure max power was up to snuff against what the Synthetic was facing.

Arms shifting, crossed over each other, the platforms sights continued to lay upward, towards the general vicinity of were the Lucha dreadnaught had been set. Ultron could not see the thing, no, not clearly from it’s current point BUT it didn’t have to. The loud proclamation that could breach orbit told the Synthetic just what was up there, and a wild hunch that basically told it whatever it was waiting for would come from it was MOST LIKELY true. Regardless, Ultron waited, it pondered, and it metaphorically glowed with a sort of battle lust based RAGE for what was to become. Most importantly; it clicked in impatience.

The things I do when I’m bored…

La Màquina was waiting on a camouflaged shuttle sent prior to the Ring’s arrival by the Masked Dreadnaught. She knew an opponent was coming, and that she had been elected the arbiter of whatever problem there was that needed settling with righteous violence, but she had been told nothing else of importance. The violence part was fine by her – she liked the violence part – but she was starting to seriously doubt that the Alliance was taking her time seriously. She was new, after all, and a part-timer besides.

Oh well. Only one way to show them…and at least she’d get a decent workout out of the deal.

With the arrival of the Ring, and the subsequent appearance of her adversary for this contest, Màquina’s interest sharpened. Another android – and one that made no attempt to play at being anything but a machine of war. Unsheathed metal and glowing power, nothing but armor and attitude…this was a fight of a sort she hadn’t seen since that one robo-godlet thing she’d nearly nuked a couple of years back. Hopefully this one would prove to be a better challenge, but even if it wasn’t, it was always so refreshing to take on a fellow android.

Ensuring her ECM and cyberwarfare systems were spun up and ready to go, La Màquina went to the shuttle’s transporter system and hit the switch to begin the match proper, the way the Luchalliance’s Code of Glorious Conduct demanded.

With a bang.

Terminite: Firepower

La Màquina appeared inside the ring, opposite her opponent and equidistant between the central Ring and the plasma ropes suspended between the Posts, in a burst of golden flame and amidst a fanfare of music, the high-paced beats of her chosen anthem shaking the stone beneath her feet. Clad in her signature white bodysuit and boots, wearing the aggressive red-and-gold mask that was her symbol of status and power within the Luchalliance, she was a vision of wrathful femininity framed in fire. Just over six feet tall on her own, her height had been augmented by the four-inch heels of her utterly impractical boots, and her long, sweeping hair had been tied up high enough to add another inch or two to her normally quite imposing height. Somehow she didn’t think this nigh-eight-foot mechanoid would be impressed. Her hair whipped in the gales thrown off by her own pyrotechnics, explosions and fireworks in the white, gold and red which were her colors staining the sky around her. As her fanfare resounded, she lifted her right arm and stabbed an accusatory finger at her foe as she tipped her head back just enough to glare down her nose at the offending mechanoid.

“You’re the sorry excuse for a crockpot who’s called for Justice?!” Màquina called, allowing a dismissive sneer to color her words. The crowds loved it when she was a bitch, and she was only too happy to oblige. “Phfah! I’ve seen more threatening machines in low-budget video games! You think you have what it takes to bring me down? PATHETIC! When we’re done here I’m going to turn what’s left of you into a pretty little dolly for my collection and perch you on my shelf, next to all the other hopeless fools who made the mistake of stepping into the Ring with me!”

“Now COME ON! Let’s get this over with quickly, I haven’t got all afternoon to waste on you!”

La Màquina’s stance was…less than perfect, defensively. In that she simply crossed her arms over her chest, feet shoulder width apart and planted in the rubble of the Ring’s landing, and glared at her foe. Beneath her skin, combat systems were already spooled up and ready to react, her Fuego de la Orden spun up to combat strength and brimming with readied energies, putting the lie to her haphazard-seeming guard…but Luchalliance tradition dictated that the challenger was afforded the right to strike first.

That was fine by her. First strike didn’t matter for shit. The only strike that truly mattered in a fight like this was the last one, and that strike would be La Màquina’s.

More sound, more detected movement, more flair, and more lights and flare then any ‘mortal’ realm could think possible. The absurdity of it all was not lost to the Synthetic Menace, but the main point was the one responsible for it. La Maquina, Ultrons verbose female looking opponent. Immediately upon appearing scanners zoomed in on her person. Energy output of both natural and unnatural aspects would be taken in and scanned for future note, nothing more nothing less. One could assume or not assume Maquina had a means to hide her robotics from others, even other Robots, but for this sake? We’ll say they weren’t ‘seen’ in a way until it was becoming blatantly obvious! Arms uncrossed as Maquina began speaking and a heavy step was taken forward. Slow step, followed by another and another. Distance was meant to be breached but for the fuck of it, Ultron decided to give the woman time to finish her glorious speech. And glorious it was, as was the speech itself!

A true warrior, or acted warrior in the slightest. Such did not matter to Ultron because when it became obvious the speech was over, that flair and glamour was put aside from what one could deduce was a probably fake ‘showboat’ stance on the Womans part to lure Ultron into a false sense of security, the Synthetic would begin running. Heavy feet crushed the ground beneath themselves as, despite the bulky heavy appearance, Ultrons legs carried it forward in a organized swift fashion towards Maquinas person. The intent was obvious even for the most basic and inexperienced fighters: Ultron was intent on breaching the distance,right arm reared back as it moved and once it was within arms striking range, flinging that right arm forward to fiercely punch into the left side of Maquinas chest. No stance, nothing particularly tactful, but a few things were in the works, seen and unseen.

The first was Ultrons intent overall. It was not assuming it would win, or its punch would even connect, like most fights, this was a sort of test to set the grounds for things surely to come. The second was hopefully unnoticed on Maquinas part but it didn’t matter in the long run; holes on the back of and both sides of Ultrons lower legs opened and gave of a strange reverberating but harmless visible ‘wave’ sorts. What this did was hopefully lost to Ultrons opponent, but again it didn’t matter in the long run regardless. Lastly was the red mist. It came gradually from Ultrons slit like mouth, to the touch it was as harmless as the ‘leg waves’ and once touching the ground it just dispersed. The feeling upon touch was moist and a little bit of heat but nothing else. This started before Ultron was in its transition to try to punch Maquina and what it meant, well, we’ll eventually see if it came to that.

The Code of Glorious Conduct had been satisfied. Now, La Màquina was free to rampage.

Her foe was barreling towards her, right fist cocked back, for quite possibly the most telegraphed haymaker in Luchalliance history. It seemed the red-smirking Creep-o-tron was trying to use the painfully obvious punch to disguise his dispersal of both a distortion-like wave of sorts and some manner of red mist. Màquina set her systems to work analyzing both phenomena, searching for whatever threat they represented, but in the interim she had a big dumb robrute to discipline.

Discipline would start with one simple lesson – one does not strike a lady. Not unless one is prepared to be struck back sixfold.

La Màquina’s Warrior’s Aura, the loosely-governed cloud of power which surrounded her at all times, would keep the fog and waves off of her long enough for her to figure out what they did and defeat them more properly, but the punch and the robrute it was attached to wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded. That would take some actual work and some pretty precise timing…which was something La Màquina’s synthetic mind was superhumanly good at.

She delayed her reaction, standing there with a sneer on her masked face, until the moment Mr. Robrute committed to his blow…then exploded into motion. Her left arm snaked up and out of its position, her forearm slamming into Robrute’s wrist and deflecting the heavy, easily predicted punch aside. La Màquina’s right leg slid forward, the toe of her boot kicking rubble out of the way as she stepped inside Robrute’s own stride, getting right up close, chest-to-chest. At this range the mechanoid’s reach advantage was thoroughly nullified; he’d have trouble getting any real power behind any blow he could launch at La Màquina. Her left hand turned the deflectional block into a snatch attempt, her hand twisting around to try and lock its fingers onto the mechanoid's arm just below the elbow. Her right arm snaked out to do the same to the Robrute's left, seeking to bind up both his limbs with her own.

And all the while, as she moved and blocked and stepped and grabbed, La Màquina's Diablo's Foundry was working. Behind her, a heavy brace firmly fixed to her back and shoulders snapped into existence, four copies of her own arms sprouting from it on specially gimballed shoulder joints. La Màquina's Backhands – one of her favorite and signature techniques, the ability to grow four extra arms with which to pummel her foes or wield her innumerable array of weapons and stolen techniques. By the time La Màquina had set her feet again after the sliding forward step, bracing herself inside the Robrute's stride, her Backhands had formed and were performing their attack commensurately with Màquina's attempt to bind her foe's arms.

The two uppermost Backhands, positioned behind and above Màquina's natural shoulders, were almost perfectly positioned to rotate upwards and start unleashing a hefty barrage of blows right upside the Robrute's smoke-spewing grill. Hooks, jabs, straights, crosses, all the fisty stuff, fired at superhuman machine gun speed from a variety of angles at the mechanoid's head. Straight at his face, hooking in to either side of his skull, uppercuts to the chin, hammerfists to the dome – La Màquina laid into her enemy with just about everything she could throw at him from her position of advantage inside his reach.

Her lowermost Backhands remained in a wide guard, ready to intercept any reciprocal shenanery the Robrute decided to lay her way, while La Màquina grinned beneath her foe's big fat thoroughly assaulted head. No doubt the big bruiser had expected some sort of slick dodge – he was, after all, much larger and heavier than she was and built on a stocky male frame besides. Fight Logic held that she would be at a sore disadvantage in close.

Fight Logic, La Màquina had found, rarely accounted for one combatant having three times the striking limbs her opponent did. Robrute had miscalculated, and now he was going to have to Pay the Penalty.

The right arm was countered as expected. It was a simple motion, martial arts worthy if the Synthetic could note it, a partially grappling. This was just fine but left out his right arm for the moment, other than twisting to a degree while mid deflect. As she grabbed Ultrons rist, Ultrons metal hand grabbed hers, passively seeking to grip-imbed the fingers involved into what Ultron thought was skin, past the layers into bone/muscle. Now considering a detail was left out in Ultrons left arm, instead of enacting anything, we’ll say the same thing occurred for it with the right one, grip and counter grip, and all that aside. However, this point was where Maquinas intent would possibly end. She’d find her steps into him going off without a hitch, for a brief second at least. The purpose of his hit would become apparent as that noted great strength of Ultrons was attempted to put into play here. Before she could set herself upright in her own position close to Ultron, in his guard, she’d find the grip he’d most likely have on her bluntly pulling her in closer.

The intent would be known the second she looked up, potentially seeing Ultrons head reared back; he was gearing on strong arming her up and to his face level via the grapple he most likely had then using his Adamantium coated cranium to fiercely head-butt her right in-between the eyes. The main points of this was to use that double arm grapple they had on each other to his advantage, and her own movements pre-grapple/step forward to force her forward and slightly up to the headbutt. One might think that Ultron had to worry about the sprouting arms while during this, but the time and nature of the CQC grasp and Ultrons strong arm counter grasp and pull offered an inkling of time in-between, plus the suden nature of the action might just create an open window to exploit and make said arms a non-factor in his actions to come. Again, Ultron didn’t know Maquina was a synthetic in her own right, perhaps the head-butt would do some damage, perhaps not, but either way? Those heated distorting waves would come into play during this.

They were the preparations for Ultrons Rocket boosters, to be blunt. It did not take long to initiate them, a little activation switch internally, a little directing of the fuel and boom, they were ready to go. Again, like before with the headbutt, one could not just assume Maquinas stopped/defensive power, even with the sudden prepared forward thrust of powerful leg based rocket boosters, but just in case? With the sudden activation working in tandem with the head-butt basically at the same time? Say it does work, taking Maquinas off her feet, taking the Both of the combatants off their feet and hurtling them backwards, FAST. Ultron would seek to keep them low, ground level, Maquina being the one closest to the ground which he would push her towards to basically scrape against and occasionally pull back up for another of those skull splitting head-butts. The distance would be a good amount of feet, nearly twenty or thirty yards (with pushing on the ground and pulling for more headbutts being commenced in the meantime) before the boosters situated on the side of Ultrons legs both shifted, one inward, one outwards in order for Ultron to do a spin and, if Maquina was dazed or had her lose grip by now, which was a possibility, toss the Android along the ground like a rock on a lake.

All ifs and buts, of course, there were openings and antics to be done. Plus like the Robot Ultron was, Maquina was an Android and might of or might NOT of had the ‘pain feeling’ factor of life erased from her person, but again, assumptions and theories. One thing that was definitely not a theory though, for anyone looking was that red mist. It came more at this rate, like a sink letting lose water, harmlessly even if it did touch Maquina but two things were apparent; something was up and Ultron didn’t care if she could see it either. Both things to worry about, amidst the attempted countering, grabbing, head-butting and throwing of course.

Robrute reacted with the cool aplomb expected of a fellow synthetic, managing to countergrab La Màquina's arms in an attempt to pull her up into a nasty iron-plated headbutt. Not bad...but not good enough.

The maneuver didn't interfere with the formation of La Màquina's Backhands at all, as she'd started manufacturing them well before the mutual grab and they were one of her quickest and most oft-refined and practiced Forgings. Her planned barrage of punches morphed instead into a block, her upper-left Backhand slapping a palm in front of the headbutt and arresting its force. There wasn't enough muscle in Robrute's neck for him to get the leverage needed to knock noggins with La Màquina with the intervening arm in the way, and that left three free Backhands to get up to mischief with.

The boosters came online, Robrute threatening to take La Màquina for a rippin' rocket ride across the ground, but the big bruiserbot wasn't the only one in this match with the ability to defy gravity. La Màquina's Fallen Angel's Halo snapped open, its broad argent ring and mantling cluster of six techno-angel's blade-feathered wings appearing above Màquina's head, only just barely clearing the Robrute's own. Her own flight disrupted and struggled against the rocket boosters, adding momentum to force their flight upwards and away from the ground as well as backwards, leaving them spiraling through the air with hard grips on each other's arms. Well, some of each other's arms.

La Màquina's three free limbs each curled their fingers around the grips of flash-Forged spike-bladed dirks, plucking the weapons out of the aether in a heartbeat and searching for vulnerable joints. The Robrute's armor appeared to be phenomenally tough, but it was still conventional armor. Not Màquina's own combination of kinetic spreader and ethereal hardening, simply big burly plates of metal and less burly weaves between them. Those joints were the targets of Màquina's sudden flurry of stabs – the upper-right Backhand plunged its dagger down into chinks in the Robrute's neck, seeking vulnerable points with a hardened needle point and the surreal precision of Màquina's synthetic targeting systems and flawless control.

The lower two backhands went for armpits, hips, chinks in the main body armor, anything they could get to, driving with tremendous force and unerring precision into any likely weak point, probing hard for weaknesses. They were free to do so; until either Màquina or Robrute relented in their grip, the two were too close for anything else.

Unless the bruiser had more tricks than La Màquina, of course. But in all her experiences within the Alliance and without, one thing had always remained true for the masked warrior – nobody had more tricks than La Màquina.

It was a multiplatform of mixed perfect positioning, deception, and a look on both parts to appear weak. In a sense, it worked in both of their cases. Truth be told, from a particular view it might appear as if Maquina had the upper hand. More arms to used, tied the opponents two, arms that could wiggle and poke at weaker (but still strong mind you, metal was METAL after all) sections, it appeared the Synthetic monster was thoroughly fucked. However, one could also see the mist stopped falling from Ultrons mouth. This could of used a little more time to be JUST a tad bit more powerful, but it was good enough in Ultrons eyes and given the close proximity? Well, it’d be near perfect in that regards. What came from Ultrons mouth a split second after the two were forced into the air was something that was a literal as its name; A Radioactive Waste beam.

A deathly red color, and letting loose chunks of brownish radioactive searing hot materials, the beam was as it sound; a Radioactive Waste beam. Ultrons platforms basically was a walking small nuclear reactor, and this reactor created a constant stream of waste. Methods were used to mostly recycle the waste as a sort of backup energy source BUT it could also be refocused through the Synthetic as a whole, and redirected for offensive purposes, mainly through the mouth port, as demonstrated here. The sheer force of the beam itself was potent, but the effects of the beam and their properties were just as bad. Android or not, robot or not, a source that could atomize something was potent, wasn’t it? One liked to think so and though the possible effects of this beam possibly hitting Maquina smack dab in the face (while her other arms were busy being in the process of trying to seek out Ultrons weak points no less, the red mist was the byproduct of the heated ) well, it’s hard to say and too much to assume so we’ll leave it to Maquina to deal with the direct to the face blast itself.

Slight direct physical resistance was expected, mainly an attempt to get close to Ultrons person and under the short starting point of the beam centered around Ultrons mouth (gradually small starting out, but with the time given to gather the energies necessary to direct the nuclear waste, the beam as a while was basically as big as a human) thus most physical strength used to keep Maquina in a general ‘arms length’ distance via that grip he had on her arms or if she found it in herself to try to get under the short end of it, basically move her up into it, much like with how Ultron almost head-butted her. It was the slight beauty of utilizing brute strength, gathered powers, and near point blank range most liked to get into too suddenly pop attacks like this when least or more expected. Again, what this beam did was ‘lost’ to Ultron until it connected or SOMEHOW didn’t, but Ultron liked to think it’s tenacity, timing, and positioning worked well with its intent.

Hit or miss though, why was it VERY clear it appeared Ultrons forehead was blinking a white and blue color, as if something was reflecting itself off in the distance?

This guy just didn’t get it.

La Màquina had long since identified the red smoke as some sort of radioactive byproduct; her skin wasn’t fond of it in the least, but she could handle a bit of radiation for a while, especially with her Aura to keep it off of direct contact with her. Now, though? Now radiological readings were spiking, and it didn’t really take a nuclear physicist to figure out what was going on.

Unfortunately for the Robrute…well, he just didn’t get it.

In her current position, Màquina had just about all the advantages. The brute’s greater size and leverage didn’t mean spit in the air, his arms were tangled up with restraining her own and trying to haul her around by the forearms, and his foe had four almost completely unimpeded striking limbs with which to take advantage of their bind. If he wanted to try and spit radioactive glop at her, she’d just make sure it was point elsewhere. The bruiserbot had exactly one neck’s worth of musculature to try and direct his radioactive spew – Màquina had two arms’ worth of musculature with which to direct it elsewhere, and two arms pretty much always beat one neck.

Discarding its anti-armor dirk, allowing the weapon to fade into rapidly dispersing golden dust, La Màquina slammed her upper-right Backhand up under the Robrute’s chin, fingers gripping into any angle or crevice they could find, and twisted hard. Her upper-left Backhand continued to manhandle the brute’s head, forcing his mouth up and to the right, away from her delicate beauty and off into the distance where it could be someone else’s radiological disaster. If the bruiser’s neck was anything like her own she didn’t give herself good odds of actually snapping it, but she was absolutely twisting with enough force and torque to break a Natural’s neck like a charred twig. There was little realistic way the brute would be able to keep his sludge beam strike on target.

As for the Robrute’s attempts to haul her up and into the path of the beam? That would prove just as fruitless. Màquina’s own natural arms resisted the attempt as much as they could; while she couldn’t easily match the much larger machine’s strength of limb, she was by no means weak, and furthermore the leverage she had on the Robrute’s head also allowed her to push down and away from his toxic spew, once again matching four arms’ strength to that of two. That was a no-go.

And worst of all, it left Màquina’s lower Backhands entirely open to continue their work of finding holes to stab anti-armor dirks through. The Robrute was vastly underestimating that threat; La Màquina was not at all just randomly stabbing and hoping to get lucky. Each strike was guided by sensor and target acquisition & analysis systems honed to a razor’s edge of efficiency and sensitivity, driven by myomer muscles with far finer dexterity and control than even the finest and most precise of martial-artsy Naturals. Metal was indeed tough, but mere passive alloy protection was no real protection at all from La Màquina’s questing spikes. It was something of a miracle that she hadn’t already found a weakness sufficient to wedge a spike into. If the Robrute continued to ignore her stabbings, he would regret it in extremely short order.

What he didn’t know, couldn’t know, was that La Màquina’s Forged constructs, the weapons her Diablo’s Foundry yielded to her, could be willed back into their raw energy states – violently. Any time Màquina wished. She was stabbing at the big bruiser with armor-piercing sticks of dynamite – and he was letting her. One good penetration was all she needed – even if that stab didn’t hit anything vital or even particularly important, the ensuing explosion inside the Robrute’s armor, turning all that toughened metal against her foe and using it to contain her own attack inside his vulnerable internal systems, would absolutely hit something important.

As for the warbot’s attempt to run her into the Ring’s plasma ropes, or whatever else he had in mind? That was easily enough dealt with – neither combatant had full control of their mutual flight. La Màquina’s Halo-driven levitation fought the Robrute’s rocket-driven thrusters, with the result that neither android could force the other onto a steady, desired course. For La Màquina, that was fine – she was doing perfectly well on her own and only needed to exert her flight systems against the Robrute’s to stop them from crashing into anything. The Robrute, on the other hand, needed to try and actively steer the pair into whatever obstacles he wished to make use of, which Màquina could screw with at will. All she needed to do was aim at all of the places up in the air where there wasn’t anything to crash into – her foe needed to try and find a way to overcome her interference long enough to actively target a place to be. She tried to guide the fight in a rough circle around the central Ring, keeping them within the bounds of the fight, but she wasn’t terribly worried about it so long as she could keep the charge from landing them in trouble. And she could.

This brute was either dumb as a bag of New Arizona rocks or he was severely underestimating La Màquina. She was fine with either version. She liked being underestimated – she loved the look of horrified shock on the faces of enemies who thought she was an easy win when they found themselves under her heel, watching in helpless fear as the Thousand Executions built itself above them. And if this guy was just that dumb?

Then it was her job as a custodian of synthetic society to ensure that his schematics were scrubbed from the database before any more resources were wasted on new Robrutes.

The problem came from a few base assumptions and a lack of understanding the timing. The Nuclear waste beam as stated before came in the PROCESS of each of the extra limbs reaching on towards Ultrons person. Not while in the process, not while anything was grabbing or stabbing, not while anything was lodged into joints or seeking out points to enter in. This being aside from the fact that an assumed pair of limbs COULD move Ultrons head to begin with, just after dropping some weapon in a scenario Miliseconds counted given the lack of distance between the two. The Synthetic was made for strength, as had been stated before, this did not exclude any part of the body and this coupled with the face to face stature of the attack, point blank range even, meant that EVEN with a grip on the neck, even a strong punch meant to push it away, the neck full on resist any unmade pull/forcing to another direction, well, even a slight movement meant most of the beam would be on Maquinas person, push or punch or not aside, it wasn’t a matter of being a perfect attack, it was far from it, it was the timing, positioning, and well, again, near point blank Range between the two. It was a two way street, for both arms and the beam!

However, this was one of three things currently going against Maquina. The beam was a fast in your face thing, as was the thing to come JUST after it. The reason for the blue and white almost reflective blinking in the Synthetics cranium was for its ‘at the hip’ pistol kind of attack in the form of Ultrons head based Tractor Field/Gravity Beam. A split second of focus, a split second of deductions, and said gravity would be unleashed much like the Nuclear waste beam only in a much larger sort of scope. Square shaped from the get go and immediately sending reverberating throughout the air, despite its name the Tractor/Gravity was sort of a reverse of that. Instead of pulling something in, once anything was in its general vicinity, its range and large spread, the effects of the gravity was basically entrap anything in it and then in the most simple but harshest of fashion, bore into and crush into the object with increasing levels of gravitational force. This was also a very BIG downside for Maquina given the closer to the source of the beam, the stronger its potency was with how it was generated from the cranium device at the most organized level, IE, another case of ‘being to close to comfort’ given the face to positioning of the two.

One distinct thing however, made the gravity beam, other than the entire nature in general, different from the nuclear waste beam. Admittedly the Waste beam itself was a VERY direct sort of attack. Gather, redirect, boom, but the gravity beam had been made in a slightly different way, tweaked with past experiences and adapted in this case to act. If somehow this face to face beam was also (attempted) to be redirected or forced off? The second that occurred, a chunk of the air reverberating/rippling gravity (that was otherwise basically transparent/invisible in any other case) would visibly be seen literally splitting from the body of the Gravity as a whole and swooping down upon Maquinas person. That tweak came in the form of the gravitational device in Ultrons cranium itself basically ‘sectioning’ the gravitational output device off and creating another sort of separate section from the main body to utilize. In hindsight it was something the Synthetic should of done from the get go, but beggers could not be choosers, not face to face at least, thus the crushing gravity beam itself and the split sections that could be created now.

Lastly of the three things, we shift back to the battle of Actual grappling arms. Maquina would be able to see it. A slight whiff of steam based in the sections of her arms Ultron clearly had dug and cut his sharp tipped fingers into, followed by a sudden but very potent and planned Concussion blast not only released in the outside part of Maquinas arms given palms connected to them, but the finger portions, IE, all TEN points dug into each sections of her arms Ultron gripped and, well, you have a high plasma, force, and head based beam inwardly and outwardly being Blasted on two arms. Again it was sort of a case with the Nuclear waste beam. Ultron and the player does not exactly know what a Heat, Physical Force, and Plasma based laser can do at point blank literally grabbed range to Maquinas person, one liked to ASSUME it was something bad, something potent, double added as in this case, inner gears and pistons and devices which made the robot move worked in tandem with the rocket ‘boots’.

A forceful lean back would be done physically with Ultrons upper frame while his lower stayed oddly still, for the most part. This was because the rocket boots seemed to dim but in reality were shifting themselves into a ‘back up’ sort of mood. In other words trying to visibly, physically propel Ultron backwards at the same time he pulled and unleashed the Concussion blasts, the intent VERY clear; he Ultron was half trying to blast, half trying to rip Maquinas arms off. There was a slight bit of obvious intent to perhaps get a bit of distance between the two, sudden blast off of arms, away from those limbs, all that, but in truth? The minute the two ‘grappled’ in a sense, this had been one of the bigger intents from the start. Mind you, face to face was face to face, thus the few attempted attacks but this? The big one, really! It was an added bonus in the possible fact it Got Ultron away from those armor piercing exploding energy dirk things…for the most part.

Perfection was NOT expected on any part of the ideas in motion, BUT, say the last part in particular occurred (with Maquinas blasted off arms in tow in Ultrons Grip) the Synthetic positioning would be something of a good amount of feet inbetween the two…with damage. A quick internal assessment had shown he DID, would manage to get out of Most range from the explosive dirks…but not all of it. For the sake of positioning and upper arms mostly aiming for the head (and letting go of the daggers) the bottom arms would get their dirks Almost completely into certain leg aspects but with Ultrons action previously, mainly the back peddle of the jet propulsion in tandem with the arm blast/rip off attempt, the explosions would go off something along the mid leg and lower portion of his side. This was displayed physically for the leg, right we’ll say, by the dent and curve it had into it, along with some of the sparking and slight sputter some of the rocket ‘boots’ holes had. On the side, a big old dent was there to, concaving and making the otherwise smooth brutish form of the Synthetic a little less even leveled…but it was outer damage mostly, despite the sparks. A lack of ‘pain’ feeling receptors ensured physical hindrance would impede Ultron during this…but would it, COULD it for Maquina?

The waste beam simply wasn't going to work, and why it kept cycling through the combatant's minds was beyond La Màquina. She already had a hand on the Robrute's head, placed there to deflect the attempted headbutt, and it didn't take much of a sensor package to detect spiking levels of radiological threat. Snapshot or sustained beam, whatever the Robrute attempted, he was not going to atomize La La Màquina's head.

The crush beam was a new threat though, and one Màquina could do relatively little about. Her positioning chest-to-chest with the Robrute and her two-fisted control of his head meant the initial blast went the way of the waste beam, sailing off into the distance without impacting La Màquina, but in this instance the mechanoid seemed to have some sort of bizarre ability to reclaim and redirect a portion of his directed-energy attack back at her from behind. That was just great. This first blast she was forced to simply tank, the diffused beam striking her in the back and causing savage contractions to her structure. The crush beam couldn't crush her outright, not in that weakened split-up form, but it was not pleasant. A grimace of distaste showed beneath La Màquina's mask as the beam strained and frayed myomer in her back, slipping a few overstress warnings into her cushioned internals. Her kinetic spreaders proved to be less than fully effective against this attack; they helped, but this wasn't the sort of short, sharp impacts they were meant to deal with.

No crippling damage from the strike, not even anything severe or serious just yet, but it was a warning to La Màquina that her foe did possess at least one weapon she'd have to keep an eye on.

The venting process which suddenly sparked up in the Robrute's hands and arms, readings if shifting and spiking power, presaged an attempt to point-blank blast Màquina's arms under the bruiser's grip. Alongside a sudden reversing of his thrust, it looked like the Robrute was attempting to separate Màquina from her limbs and himself from Màquina. Seems he'd had enough of her pounding on him inside his effective range. A sensible enough goal, if not one he'd succeed in.

The steam venting and power redirection were enough of a warning for La Màquina to redirect her own power to stiffening up her myomer layer in her arms. She wasn't possessed of the thick, heavy passive plating this Robrute was; her armor was in the active utilization of her Fuego de la Orden's power to reinforce and rigidize her musculature in the face of attack. Everywhere Màquina had muscles, everywhere her myomer covered her, she was armored – and her myomer covered just about everywhere.

It didn't make her invincible – when she released her own grip and allowed the Robrute's reverse thrusters to carry him away, the protoskin over Màquina's left elbow and lower forearm had been blasted away, strands of frayed and severed myomer sparking and twitching in the blast-scarred wake of the Brute's beams. The right arm, within its red-and-gold glove, was less badly damaged but still showed signs of charring and the twitchy, jerky movement of damaged muscle. It deepened her scowl for a moment, but only for a moment – after that a blood-freezing grin stretched across the masked warrior's face. Elbow braces of shimmering golden material fizzed into being over both arms, patching the damaged limbs and reinforcing the joints with slim servomotor frames.

The braces weren't all that La Màquina's Diablo's Foundry provided her then, either. To either side of the Beuaitufl Iron Demon, a pale phantasm of herself assembled themselves out of lines of golden power and the thrum of building energies. These were Sisters – snap-forged clones of La Màquina herself, utilizing her own body as a template to create semi-autonomous duplicates of herself. The Sisters were not exceptionally powerful, each able to reach perhaps a third of Màquina's own speed and strength and with only enough intelligence to carry own the short-term task they were assigned upon their creation. This particular pair of Sisters bore their own Halos, if without Cee's own hextet of wings, and each bore their own set of Backhands as well.

They also bore their own versions of the Iron Demon's bloodthirsty smile and poor disposition; each Sister flew at the Robrute at their highest acceleration upon finishing their construction, following a spiraling path with just enougn variables in it to throw off precise aim, in an attempt to close with the mechanoid and beat him upside the everything with their combined twelve war fists. Simple brawling beatdown Sisters, these were, tasked with nothing more complicated than “get to asshole, avoid getting hit if you can, and punch asshole forever.”

Màquina herself hung back, cruising around the circumference of the battleground above the Ring to her right, warily circling her foe. She clasped her truehands together in front of her, fingers meshing in an almost prayer-like posture, and all four Backhands began to weave and sine around in a complex dance behind and around her. Power began to build and shift within La Màquina's core, following the dictates of her weaving hands, flowing up her arms and towards...whatever she was doing between her clasped palms.

Robrute had won the distance he'd desired to create between himself and his foe, but fighting from the other end of a set of gunsights was where La Màquina preferred to be. No other fighter in the whole of the Luchalliance could match Màquina's versatility, proficiency, and lethality in a ranged duel. Whether the Robrute knew it or not, Màquina was exactly where she wanted to be. Could he afford to let her finish what she was doing, build what she was building, while her Sisters distracted and delayed him with a frenzied fit of frenetic fisticuffs?

Could he manage to do anything else, with two six-armed punch bots descending upon him from differing vectors, ready to box in his escape and trap him between them?

One might call it an advantage or not, but little did Cee know of the intent of the Synthetic monster. Prepared, distanced, having things in play, the clones, and some sort of synthetic magic Ultron couldn’t completely understand…well, if the robot could, it would be squinting at this moment. Jet boots, both completely working and completely not sputtered and lowered the Synthetics frame down to the ground. Hands clenched into fists, gravity beam still actually on and ready to be used…suddenly turned off, of all things Ultron turned its back to the Android. Her very make disgusted the Synthetic, as most Androids did, because he partially knew what it possibly meant, but that was a story for another time. Maquina was welcome to attack with Ultrons back to her, but a brief glance would show the robots disposition as it just began to walk.

“I concede.”

The metallic voice would be heard as the robot was intent on pacing forward to wherever until it could not be seen anymore. The platform was Beyond not ready for what it was currently facing. Had the arms been pulled with it, that might’ve change, but even so, a swift zoomed in look revealed the repairs Maquinas abilities were doing. Ultron had nothing to counter this, not with the current model of platform he had used, honestly a NEUTERED one at that, for this attempted engagement in group based combat…but perhaps another day.

The Day was Cees…For now, or perhaps half a second. Thoughts were taken into mind, and a slight backup program was installed in this platform, just in case. Click.