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duhragonball · 7 years

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (66/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[24 November 236 Before Age. Extraliga.]

The Shockmaster awoke from his meditative trance to find Luffa on top of him, grasping the sides of his helmet with her hands. She was furious. He didn't care.

"YOUR MISTAKE WAS IN SENDING YOUR ALLIES TO TAKE CONTROL OF THE RECOLLECTOR," he said. "WHEN THEY ACTIVATED IT, I WAS ABLE TO SENSE ITS PSIONIC SIGNAL. IT WAS A SIMPLE MATTER TO ENTER MY COMMANDS INTO THE DEVICE."

"I pulled you back to reality, didn't I?" Luffa shot back. "Your trance made you intangible, so I couldn't hurt you physically, but I could force your body to become solid again with my own mental powers."

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" the Shockmaster bellowed. "THE RECOLLECTOR IS SET! SOON IT WILL BRING THE UR-EMBER FROM THE DISTANT PAST, BRINGING IT TO THIS WORLD! AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU OR ANYONE ELSE CAN DO TO STOP IT!"

"Fine!" Luffa shouted. "Let's say you're right. Nothing I do from here on out matters! The Ur-Ember is coming to Planet Extraliga, like it or not! Well, what happens when it gets here? What's the next part of your stupid plan?! The radiation from that thing will kill everyone on the planet!"

"NO, NOT EVERYONE!" the Shockmaster scoffed. "THE CHOSEN WILL SURVIVE THE UR-EMBER'S RADIATION! THEY ALONE WILL SURVIVE... AND MORE!"

"What are you babbling about?!" Luffa demanded. He savored the moment before he answered. Strong as she was, she had lost the initiative at the moment the Recollector was activated. Now she would try to play for time, goad him into revealing his plans, in the futile hope of finding some way to stop them.

"THE UR-EMBER IS A MYSTICAL POWER SOURCE UNLIKE ANY OTHER," he said. "LONG AGO, MY PEOPLE HARNESSED IT'S MAGICAL MIGHT TO BUILD A GREAT STAR EMPIRE, BUT BEFORE THAT, IT ORIGINATED HERE, ON EXTRALIGA! BACK THEN, THIS WORLD WAS UNINHABITED, AND SO A BAND OF WARLOCKS USED THIS PLACE TO UNLEASH THE UR-EMBER'S POWER, MAGNIFYING THEIR OWN MYSTIC POWER A HUNDREDFOLD! MOST OF THEM MOVED ON TO THE PLANET WIST, WHERE THEY FOUNDED THE SOCIETY I NOW SEEK TO RESTORE, BUT SOME REMAINED HERE, AND INTERMARRIED WITH THE ANCESTORS OF THIS PLANET'S POPULATION! AT LEAST SOME OF THEM STILL CARRY THE BLOOD OF THE ANCIENT WARLOCKS WITHIN THEM. DILUTE AS IT MAY BE, A SELECT FEW CAN SURVIVE THE UR-EMBER'S RADIATIONS, AND BE REBORN AS A NEW RACE OF MYSTICS!"

Luffa was dumbstruck. "Then what?" she asked. "You think any of those people are going to want to help you? After you destroy all their friends and families?!"

The Shockmaster crossed his arms over his massive chest and chuckled. "THEY WON'T BE ABLE TO CONTROL THEIR POWERS AT FIRST," he said. "THEY'LL NEED MY HELP TO SURVIVE, OR THEY'LL BE FORCED TO FEND FOR THEMSELVES ON AN EMPTY PLANET. THOSE WHO ACCEPT MY HELP WILL RETURN WITH ME TO PLANET WIST, WHERE THEY CAN LEARN THE WAYS OF THEIR ANCESTORS, AND CREATE A NEW MYSTIC COUNCIL, FUELED BY THE POWER OF THE UR-EMBER, AND THE WISDOM OF WIST'S CULTURE."

"I won't let you get away with this," Luffa said quietly. "I'll kill you."

"AND WHAT WILL THAT ACCOMPLISH?" the Shockmaster asked with a laugh. "YOU MIGHT BEAT ME, BUT YOU'LL STILL FAIL. ENDING MY LIFE WILL ONLY ENSURE THAT NO EXTRALIGANS WILL SURVIVE."

She screamed, and started punching his helmet. He didn't understand why she kept targeting the one part of his body that was armored, especially when she had already broken one of his ribs. Ignoring the pain, he released a burst of ki energy from his body, knocking her away long enough for him to get to his feet.

Almost as soon as he rose to a standing position, she was back on him again, her punches and kicks even more vicious than he had thought possible.

"I actually respected you once," she seethed. "I thought you were a worthy adversary, the kind I had dreamed of ever since I turned into this thing! But you're a coward! And a hypocrite! And a fool!"

He was defending himself with all his might, but for every fives strike he blocked, she landed a sixth. And the blows were getting heavier with each moment. He realized that this was it. She had been merely enjoying herself before, but now she was determined to destroy him. His only hope was to fight back, but every technique in his arsenal had failed to stop her. His strongest attacks had failed, and she kept getting stronger and stronger.

"All of this! You did all of this, for the sake of a dead country no one even remembers!" Luffa screamed. "If it was so damned wonderful, then why is it gone?!"

She kicked him in the chest and followed through with an energy blast to his torso. He managed to bring his hands up to block it, but the impact still took a toll.

"Everything you stand for is a relic! Or a lie! The people on this planet are real, dammit! They're alive, and you're trying to turn their planet into some sick... experiment?"

It was as though her anger was fueling her strength, or maybe it was the other way around. He refused to give up, and yet he could see the writing on the wall. He was losing! And what truly filled him with despair was that defeat no longer surprised him. How could any Saiyan be this powerful?

"Do you even care about the people who might survive whatever it is you're trying to do here?! Some of them could have children! And you'd kill their brats and turn them into what? Sorcerers? Gods? Monsters? You have no idea! How do you think they'd feel?! To see their whole! Life! Turn to! Ashes!"

She was back on his helmet again, raving like a lunatic as she rained blows down upon him. This time he could actually feel the impact of her knuckles against the silver metal.

"And all they'll have to show for it is a power they didn't earn! A power forced upon them by an enemy! And they'll have to rely on the charity of others to survive!"

As the ferocity of her attacks increased, she started to become sloppy. He managed to knock her back just long enough to get clear of her. He wanted to fight back, but he knew his best bet was to withdraw. Was she... crying?

"Not again! I won't let this happen to anyone else!" she shrieked as she bombarded him with ki blasts. He dodged most of them, but not all.

Suddenly, she was behind him, and she struck him in the small of his back. He dropped to his hands and knees, only to find that his knees couldn't support him.

"It ends here, Shockmaster!" she snarled. He could hear her charging her ki, and then he could feel an intense heat on the back of his neck, like she was pressing a white hot iron against his flesh. “Whatever happens with the Ur-Ember, whatever happens to the Extraligans, you won't be around to see it. I'll destroy this planet before I let you have your way with it. I'll destroy Wist too, if I have to.”

"N-NO..."

"I am going to tear that ridiculous helmet right off your shoulders!"

She started striking the back of his helmet, and he could feel the heat with each blow. Now that he could no longer defend himself, she was putting an enormous amount of ki into her strikes, all for the singular purpose of unmasking him. Perhaps she recognized the helmet as the source of his power. He had thought it to be indestructible, though his faith in that was beginning to waver.

But it was all he had left now. He couldn't move. He was lying face down in the dirt. She was relentless. She would keep targeting the helmet until it broke apart. His only hope was that it could resist the Saiyan until the Recollector's work was complete. There was no way to be sure, but it was possible that the Ur-Ember's mystic energies might kill Luffa just as easily as most of the other life forms on the planet.

And then he heard a crack.

Like thunder.

And the world around him went white...

*******

Luffa had been punching the Shockmaster's helmet for so long that she almost didn't notice the surface beginning to buckle under the constant impact of her fists. She was consumed with rage, but not so consumed that she couldn't take satisfaction in the moment.

She was afraid. She didn't know if Zatte could stop the Recollector, or what would really happen if the Ur-Ember was delivered to this planet. Zatte would probably be the first to die--

No. Luffa refused to entertain that train of thought. Zatte was a Dorlun, a survivor. If the Ur-Ember could be survived, then Zatte would find a way to stay alive. If not, then Zatte would die for what she believed in. It was unseemly to worry about one's own wife in the middle of a war. There was plenty of death to go around, after all.

Perhaps it would have been better for Luffa to focus on the Recollector instead of fighting the Shockmaster, especially now that he was no longer able to fight back. But he had tricked her once too often, and she knew that he had to die before she could turn her attention elsewhere. That was the whole point of including Zatte in her plan, so Luffa could defeat the Shockmaster without distraction.

She told herself this in an effort to focus her mind on the task at hand, but all she could think of was the horror that awaited the Extraligan population if she failed. It wasn't proper for a Saiyan to be so sentimental during a battle. All this useless fretting was supposed to be bad for one’s fighting style. She felt sick to her stomach, and yet the queasiness only seemed to make her stronger.

And then a crack formed in the Shockmaster's helmet, and a blinding light shone from the fissure. Reacting on instinct, Luffa leaped away from the sudden illumination, thinking it might be some sort of attack. Instead, the crack expanded, until at last the helmet split apart and crumbled into silver dust.

She raised her arms over her face to shield her eyes from the light, and watched as his entire body began to glow with the same intensity. To another observer, it might have seemed as if the Shockmaster was dying, but Luffa could still sense his enormous ki, and she could feel it increasing.

Dark clouds had been gathering in the sky since their battle began. Now rain began to fall, and lightning flashed, first from one cloud to another, and then down to the ground. The planet itself seemed to tremble as the light from the Shockmaster's body grew brighter. The raindrops sizzled as they fell upon him, producing a trail of steam.

Without warning, he floated up from the ground and his body tilted into an upright position. He was so bright now that Luffa could barely make out a distinct shape. A bolt of lightning struck him, producing an intense flash. Then at last the light faded, and his form became easier to see.

He had changed. His figure was basically the same: a mountain of a man with thick arms and a voluminous gut. But the trousers and sleeveless jacket were gone, replaced with a skintight unitard colored gold and blue. The silver helmet was gone, revealing the Shockmaster's head, though most of it was covered by a blue mask. Only his lower face was exposed, along with a tuft of dark, curly hair on the top of his scalp.

But the change in appearance was insignificant next to the dramatic increase in his power. Luffa had suspected that the Shockmaster still possessed immense reserves of ki, and she had wondered when he would put it to use. The time, it seemed, was now.

In spite of her anger and fear, she smiled in satisfaction.

"Behold, the Fifth Move of Doom," he announced. His voice was still low and rough, but much more natural than before. If nothing else, it finally sounded like it was coming from his mouth for a change.

"About time," Luffa replied. “I was wondering when you’d finally get around to that one.”

"Actually, you're the one who activated this form, Luffa," he explained. "The elders who gave me this power told me that the Fifth Move of Doom would come to me when the time was right. The helmet was the source of my power, but it was also a seal, restricting my access to this power."

"Until you ran into someone like me, someone strong enough to break the seal and release it,” Luffa said. “So you've pulled out all the stops, Should I be quaking in my boots now?"

"You're not impressed?" he asked. "You seemed disappointed with my power before."

"Don't get me wrong," Luffa said. She widened her stance and raised her arms to shoulder-level. "I'm glad you've got more power to throw at me, and maybe the transformation would have been scarier for someone else. But I transform all the time lately, so I guess it's become old news for me. Maybe I should start calling you the Super Shockmaster."

"You've defied my objective long enough, Luffa."

"Do something about it."

"You want a piece of me?"

"A piece?” Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I want the whole thing, Shocky."

"Come after me! I'm ready!"

Luffa vanished, and reappeared in front of the Shockmaster, with a ball of energy already fully-formed in her hand. She tried to drive it into his chest, but he swatted her hand away, and sent the blob of light flying off into the distance. Luffa pressed on with a flurry of punches and kicks, but the Shockmaster managed to block every single one.

He struck back, narrowly missing her with a forearm strike. Then another, and another. Luffa was dodging them, but with less and less margin for error each time. At last, she had to block his strikes, and then he finally managed to land a blow, driving his fist into her nose.

She stumbled backward, her eyes shut tightly while she used her other senses to follow his movements. When he tried to follow up with an energy blast, she avoided it, but not the elbow strike between her shoulder blades.

Now it was her turn to lie face down on the ground. She could hear him laughing triumphantly, drinking in the satisfaction.

*******

He had won! The Mystics of Ancient Wist had done it! His faith had wavered slightly in the end, but the promise of the power they had given him had been fulfilled. Luffa was defeated, and the Ur-Ember would soon return to Extraliga. The only ones who could possibly stop him were the ones trying to sabotage the Recollector, but with Luffa out of the way, he could put a stop to them quite easily.

But he wouldn't risk leaving her without certain assurances. He knelt over her and put his hands around her neck. He had sworn never to take a life, and while he was bending that rule by condemning most of Extraliga's population to death, he still intended to honor his vow, at least as far as never killing by his own hand. In spite of Luffa's repeated interference, defiance, and disrespect, he would continue to spare her life.

So instead of killing her, he would simply paralyze her. A cervical fracture in just the right place would allow her to live, but keep her from coming back to interfere in his plans.

It disturbed him that it had come to this, but he reminded himself that it was for the greater good.

And then suddenly she had rolled onto her back, and was wrapping her left arm around the back of his head. Before he could make sense of what she was doing, she had seized his right arm into her left hand, then grabbed his right wrist wit her other hand after threading her arm around his own. With a flash of yellow light, she rolled him over, forcing him onto his back. He found himself looking up at her, his neck caught between his own immobilized right arm and her left.

She was covered in mud now, and while the rain was washing some of it away, the trickle of blood from her nose continued unabated. And her hair and eyes were as radiant as ever. As she leaned back to put pressure on the hold, there was a look of sublime cruelty on her face, as though she had been waiting for a moment like this.

The pressure on the sides of his head was immense, and he cried out in agony. The only flaw with her hold was that it left his right arm free to attack, while her own arms were committed, and her legs were out of position to defend herself. But when he punched at her head, she just snarled and applied greater pressure to the hold, smiling viciously all the while.

"Did you think you were ready?" she asked with a chuckle. "Ready for me? You have no idea what I am. But you're about to find out."

Her eyes suddenly went wide, as if she had surprised herself with what she was now doing. She yelled, and the golden aura around her body expanded in every direction.

******

In a cavern near on of Extraliga's oldest cities, there lay the Recollector, an ancient device that was now working to bring about the Shockmaster's ultimate victory.

Put simply, the Recollector had the ability to retrieve objects from the distant past and bring them into the present. Before it was abandoned countless centuries ago, it had been originally designed for archaeological research, and carefully programmed to prevent it from being misused. It could only be operated by Wistians who knew how to use it, and it had failsafes to foil any attempt to alter the course of history.

But the Shockmaster had no intention of altering the past. He had programmed the Recollector to retrieve an artifact that had once been on Planet Wist's moon. That moon was destroyed in a cataclysm, the Ur-Ember had been lost. If the Recollector retrieved it at the very moment of the moon's destruction, then there would be no change to the past.

And so, with the Shockmaster's program already running, there was nothing to stop the Recollector from completing its task. There was a queue of instructions which could be edited as it worked, but once a step was in process, it could not be cancelled or interrupted.

Standing in front of the Recollector, Zatte placed her hands on its surface and concentrated. The Recollector used a psychic interface, and as she thought about its function, it produced a holographic display that illustrated its status and available features.

She was the only one who could stop the thing now. The cavern was empty, save for the lamps she had set up earlier, and a carryall bag she had laid down a few yards away. The Extraligan military was aware of her mission, but they had kept it classified, to prevent the Shockmaster's forces from discovering the Recollector's location. There was little use in having anyone else accompany Zatte into the cavern. She had studied the technology and devised the means to access its programming. Either Zatte would disable the device, or not.

But she wasn't alone. On the other side of the galaxy, three allies had established a telepathic conference with her, to provide assistance in deciphering the Recollector's ancient runes. This four-person collective manifested itself as an imaginary roadhouse, where they sat at a table with the Recollector in the center.

"I've got it running a diagnostic now," Zatte informed them. "That won't slow it down for long, but it's just about the only step I can add to the queue that will take priority over the Shockmaster's instructions."

"Where's that leave us?" asked Scotch Woodcock. He raised the brim of his black hat and regarded the Recollector with his three eyes. It was his power that allowed them to communicate from one planet to another, but he had no practical experience with Wistian technology, so he could only look on helplessly and hope the others could offer more useful suggestions.

"We can't shut it off, and we can't cancel the command," M'ranga said grimly. She was a freedom fighter, accustomed to saying inspirational things in the face of dire situations, but she was realistic enough to admit they had reached a dead end. "Even if we could get the Recollector off this planet, we don't have enough time to get to a safe distance before the Ur-Ember arrives."

"How much time do we have left?" asked Tobiko. The exiled wizard was incredibly old, and yet the Recollector was a forgotten relic before even he was born. His magic had gotten them this far, but he had just about run out of tricks.

Zatte shook her head. "Thirty minutes. Maybe a little longer if the preparation phase needs more time. Dammit... there must be something we haven't tried yet. Anything."

She went over the systems menu one more time, while the others watched. When she finally looked up, her expression was one of resignation.

"Is it safe for you three to stay connected with me?" she asked.

"We're not even on Extraliga," M'ranga reminded her. "We're on Planet Wist right now."

Zatte looked at Woodcock. "Don’t get me wrong, I'm not giving up, but if we don't think of something in the next half hour, me and everyone on this planet will be exposed to lethal radiation. I'm no expert, but I don't think it's a good idea to be mindlinked to someone while they die."

He curled his lip, revealng more of the teeth that held a cigar in his mouth. "It ain't exactly safe," he admitted. "Doesn't mean I plan on leavin' ya."

"Woodcock, we have to be practical about this," Zatte protested. "You can't do any more good here--"

"Bollocks," he said. "Never said I was here to do 'good'. That's M'ranga's line. I only tagged along to cause a little trouble."

Zatte looked to Tobiko. "Make him see reason," she pleaded. "There's no point in risking your own lives like this."

"We still have some time left, do we not?" Tobiko replied.

"You said it yourself," M'ranga added. "You haven't given up yet. If you're so worried for our safety, let's focus on finding a solution."

Zatte muttered a curse in the Dorlun tongue, then ran her fingers through her hair. "All right. All right. What if I tried to disrupt its power?"

"You already tried to shut it off," M'ranga said.

"No, we tried telling this thing's computer to shut itself down," Zatte corrected. "I'm talking about restricting the flow of power directly. I have the ability to manipulate energy, you know."

"There are magical elements in the Recollector, Zatte," Tobiko warned. "Even your skills would be poorly suited to cope with it."

"I'll try to be careful," she said. "This thing has temperature and conductivity sensors that have to reach a certain threshold before it can execute a retrieval. So maybe if I can make it just a little too cold in there, or manipulate the electrical currents just a hair, I can fool it into waiting. Maybe even trick it into aborting the whole queue. At the very least, we can buy time until Luffa can help me haul this thing into space."

They all looked at each other for a few moments, but none of them had had anything to say. Finally, M'ranga nodded, and Zatte began her work.

"The problem," she said after a few minutes, "is that I have to stay in physical contact with this thing to make this work. Normally I can manipulate energy at a distance, but this is trickier."

"Never mind all that," Woodcock said. "Is it workin'?"

"I think so," Zatte said. "Yeah, the queue is paused while it waits to reach the required setpoints. This just might work after all... I--"

And then suddenly she cried out in pain. The other three rushed to her side, only to see her arch her back and clench her jaw, and then she fell backwards. M'ranga barely managed to catch her before Zatte hit the floor of the roadhouse.

"Something must have gone wrong! Zatte, can you hear me? What happened?"

Tobiko looked at the display on the Recollector and furrowed his brow. "I believe the queue has resumed," he said. "Perhaps we can try again, if Zatte is well enough to--"

The word "continue" died on his lips as he turned to find M'ranga holding no one at all. Zatte--or rather the image of Zatte in the psychic conference-- had vanished completely.

"I can't sense her," Woodcock said after taking a moment to concentrate. "Musta been some shock she got. Coulda knocked her out, or just stunned her. Soon as she comes 'round, I can try to bring her back to us."

"If she can come around," M'ranga said darkly. "For all we know, whatever that feedback was may have killed her!"

NEXT: Sudden Death

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luchagoth · 4 years

Note

Cm punk

Am I a fan?: unfortunately

Favorite move: anaconda vise

Favorite match: the one where rey shaves his head

Favorite feud: rey vs punk simply because of the SES mask

Favorite promo: the one where he reveals the SES mask

Dream match: me vs punk

Seen live?: yes

Unpopular opinion: I don’t want him to come back to wwe

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automatictragedypanda · 4 years

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Surrender.

Let me just make this post simple and to the point: Surrender to God while it is your choice.

Sounds simple enough doesn’t it?

I know I can’t just leave you with that alone but I if you leave with anything I hope that you leave remembering this one sentence: Surrender to God while it is your choice.

If you are anything like me, I wrestle with God on just about everything He tells me to do. If he tells me to pray for someone out loud I tell Him not yet. If He says to be generous I tell Him I don’t need to be too generous. If He speaks to me about my facebook post I am writing I tell Him that my little world on social media needs to be set straight. What can I say? Surrendering isn’t fun. The very definition of “surrender” is fun sucking.

Surrender means to willing give up your fight. It means to be in submission to whoever you are opposing. To surrender is to stop pushing for your way and allowing someone else to have their way. Surrender usually comes after realizing you can’t win.

See. Fun sucking.

There is a part of me that wants to celebrate my adverse personality. Abraham negotiated with God. Jacob wrestled with God. Moses argued with God. I want to brag that I am in good company. But I know the wisdom speaks clearly when I want to celebrate myself that the company I am keeping with these giants in the faith is not in their Godly submission but rather their human condition.

Each one of them had big consequences for not surrendering to God. Abraham had brought a fight against God’s very promises that were established for Abraham. Jacob, after an actual wrestling match, had gained a physical handicap for not surrendering while his strength was intact. Moses missed the promise land because he didn’t want to submit.

Though I don’t have stories such as these men of God, I do have a story that can play as a physical representation of why I want you and I to surrender to God before He makes us surrender.

I was the newest recruit so no doubt about it I was the underdog...at least I am sure that is what the other recruits thought. Weighing in at a full 150 pounds when wet and fully equipped with hours of watching UFC on PAYPER VIEW I was very confident that this training would a piece of cake. Surely my elite observation of the television screen had prepared me more than enough to excel in this first class and wow the teacher enough to be promoted to a black belt in a matter of days. Did I mention I was confident?

After learning a few moves from the teacher we began a rotation of sparring matches to get a “hands-on” experience of the class. We would pair up, spar for ten minutes and then find another partner and do the same until everyone had sparred with each other. I of course sparred with Adili first. He made me look like a Raggedy Anne doll. But, it was Adili, and I already knew that he was more talented than me. Not only was he training at this facility, but he too had used the power of osmosis while sitting on a leather couch for hours watching UFC with me. So that was understandable.

The second person I sparred with was a woman who couldn’t of weighed more than 120lbs. She basically challenged everything I knew about testosterone for ten minutes and left me with aches in my neck and arms. I felt emasculated. Of course she didn’t know that. I would leave that match with an air of pride as I was a (forced) gentleman. No real man would beat a woman. Sure, it may of looked like I was trying my hardest, but a little smile and unmoved confidence was more than enough to make anyone watching know that I obviously lost by choice and good manners.

By my third sparring partner I was ready to prove that those two first matches were just happenstance. As pride always leads me to think, I couldn’t accept the fact that I was not as good as I thought I was. So walking over to my third sparring partner, I sized him up, shook his hand and attacked aggressively.

I gave this guy everything I had. I used every ounce of strength in me to push him around and toss him. Admittedly he was a great fighter, but I had more strength and I was using it to my advantage. For the first 5 minutes of the match we were equals. He would put me in a hold and I would escape and vise-versa.

Then it happened! I somehow was on his back and my arm had wrapped around his neck like a really skinny anaconda. I couldn’t believe it. This was my chance to prove that I am not the worst MMA trainee in the room and I wasn’t going to let this chance go to waste. I was going to use every bit of my strength to make this guy tap!

PAUSE:

I forget that not everyone is as informed intellectually as I am when it comes to the arts of self-defense. Though my years of paying outrageous amounts of money to watch two men beat the life out of each other I learned a certain signal in MMA that you too need to understand. Jiujitsu, and other martial arts, is about making the other person submit. To submit in martial arts is to stop fighting. It means you quit your resistance. It is a full surrender to your opponent. But, because most people don’t carry white flags in their pocket, in mixed martial arts the signal for submission is to use your free hand and quickly tap something noticeable. If possible you want to tap the person who is putting you into submission to show them that you are surrendering. To “tap” is to signal that you submit to the opposition and you surrender. Okay, now that is clear, let’s carry on with the story.

UNPAUSE:

While I am pulling my arm tighter against this man’s neck, flexing every muscle I had, trying to close his air ways, I remember thinking, “this is it!I am going to get him to submit!”. But then it happened. Something I have never experienced. Every bit of my strength left my body. I went completely limp. My starving anaconda arm slid off his neck and my body slinked onto the floor. I rolled my Gumby body over to my back and breathed like I was giving the room CPR. My sparring partner didn’t even take this opportunity to submit me. He just looked at me curiously as my hand became a spitting image of a fish out of water - wildly tapping the floor soaking wet with sweat. I had given up. I was fully submitted I had nothing left in me to fight my opponent. I was beaten. I surrendered.

If you’re curious of what happened, the coach put it in the best words, “you choked yourself out” or in laymen’s terms, I had used all my strength to beat my opponent, and without a victory I was out of strength. My body gave up. My fight was gone. I didn’t have the strength to even get off the floor. I was laid down before the one I was resisting, surrendered in defeat.

This was and is the only time that I have ever surrendered physically because I was so badly beaten. And it was the most beautiful picture of surrendering spiritually I had ever seen.

I may of never been submitted like this physically, but many times Christ has submitted me in my stubbornness. There has been more times than I can count that I wrestled with God on a matter only to find that I used all my strength to fight the Lord that my submission became not out of obedience but out of a lack of strength.

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choke2sleep · 2 years

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Sleep……ssleeeep. Dexter Lumis with another surprise attack on Miz. Lumis puts him to SLEEP again.

This video clip is content of WWE. Any content used in this video is not used for profit nor intended to infringe copyright.

#pro wrestling #wrestling #dexter lumis #samuel shaw #anaconda vice #anaconda vise #the silencer #sleep #sleeper #sleepered #puthimtosleep #sleep well #deep sleep #shh sleep #sleeper him

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dilf-in-peril · 1 year

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Here are some of the interesting things from the Dax podcast that were not about the backstage drama:

Dax loved the Punk/Hardy feud

By Dax’s estimate 9 out of 10 matches are rehearsed in the back

FTR called the matches against Punk/Sting/Darby and Punk/Mox in the ring*

Dax was proud that Sting and Punk trusted FTR to call the match and “take care of them”

Punk pitched the Punk/Sting/Darby vs FTR/Max match, because they were in the Greensboro Coliseum, where Sting wrestled Ric Flair on the first-ever Clash of the Champions (possibly also to make his dream of teaming with Sting come true)

It hadn’t been decided until the night of the match whether Punk would be teaming with Moxley or Bryan Danielson

Dax thinks FTR vs MoxPunk was great because it was four unselfish guys trying to outsell each other

Moxley doesn’t say much backstage and hardly ever puts anyone over but he praised that match a lot

Punk got all of them including Aubrey together for a post match picture because he loved the match so much. In the photo Dax is sitting on the doctor’s table because he thought he’d busted a ball during the match

Dax loved working with Mox and politicked hard to get to work with him again by the end of 2022 (but circumstances... got in the way)

Punk wasn’t supposed to wrestle as much as he did, he had a limited number of matches planned, but he just really wanted to wrestle more

At the end of 2021 Dax had a bit of a falling out with Max (MJF) but they made up

Dax and Bobby Fish got into a shoot fight live on stage on Dynamite but they made up

Regarding Fish kicking out of the GTS, Dax thinks giving someone an iggy during the pin is a “thank you for the match” and not a sign to kick out at three (no further comments from him)

Dax vs Punk was decided on the same day when they ran into each other at Starbucks and Punk asked Dax if he was doing anything tonight and then got the match booked

Dax wanted to tap out to the Anaconda Vise because he loves the drama of tapping out. Dax also thinks people who believe faces should never tap out have never been in a real fight**

Dax and Punk were backstage at a Dark show once, and gave advice to everyone who asked (Dax is proud that more people asked him but he admits it might be because some were intimidated by Punk)

Bret Hart texted Dax about the matches Dax had with Claudio Castagnoli and Bryan Danielson, saying that he loved them - and telling him how he thought they could have been improved

Dax thinks it doesn’t matter who wins or loses except when you keep on losing on TV fans stop believing in you

FTR turned babyface because people respected them too much to boo them and they were stuck in a situation where they got no reaction

* typically, the heel calls the match, or the more experienced wrestler

** I think it’s Vince McMahon who had strong opinions about faces never tapping out because the hero shall never give up

#wow this got long now you might as well watch it #dax harwood #cm punk #jon moxley #ftr #wrestling

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jeangerme-blog · 6 years

Audio

Hip-Hop et genre féminin

Le mix présenté ci-dessus se compose uniquement de sons chantés par des femmes, et il y a plusieurs raisons :

Je me suis rendu compte que quand je faisais une playlist hip-hop, je ne pensais que très rarement à des femmes.

Le rap est un peu (beaucoup) misogyne, donc un peu de féminisme ne fera de mal a personne

Cela peut-être une forme d’empowerment qu’il faut promouvoir

Donc voilà j’ai mené une petite enquête sur ce sujet, et comme je ne suis pas très érudit, je me suis servi de plusieurs articles que je partagerai au fur et à mesure.

1 - Pourquoi le rap est-il un sport d’hommes ?

Pour répondre à cette question, je pense qu’il faut d’abord s’intéresser à la musique dans son ensemble, se demander quelle place y ont historiquement occupé les femmes, et pour quelles raisons.

On peut facilement se rendre compte qu’il existe de nombreux exemples de styles musicaux qui sont sujets au même constat.

Le jazz : seulement 4% des instrumentistes (donc qui font du “vrai” jazz) sont des femmes, et 65% des femmes qui sont dans le milieu du jazz sont des chanteuses. (Plus de détails here)

En musique classique, c’est un peu le même constat, moins de femmes que d’hommes (1/3), elles atteignent très rarement le niveau de cheffe d’orchestre, et doivent être plus qualifées que les hommes pour y arriver (plus de détails here).

Dans les groupes de rock, sans même faire de recherche, on peut au dresser le même tableau, plutôt des chanteuses, mais peu de musiciennes...

La conclusion, sans avoir besoin d’aller chercher très loin, c’est qu’on on a un bouc émissaire (le rap), qui cache un problème bien plus global dans l’industrie musicale, et dans notre société plus largement.

2 - Est-on misogyne si on aime Booba et Damso ?

Je ne peux pas mieux répondre à la question que cet article de Madame Rap (une journaliste qui tient un site faisant la promotion du hip-hop féminin)

En voici un petit extrait qui résume assez bien l’ensemble :

Par ailleurs, le rap n’est pas plus misogyne que d’autres courants musicaux, il use juste de codes différents, sans détours et sans fioritures, ce qui rend le problème plus visible. Les autres styles musicaux produisent un sexisme plus mainstream et pernicieux, presque indécelable et surtout beaucoup mieux accepté.

Parce que quand on fouille dans la culture populaire, il n’y a pas vraiment de quoi pavoiser. Entre les « Murder Ballads » de Nick Cave et Johnny Cash, qui nous racontent des errances meurtrières avec zigouillage de femmes, Pink Floyd qui veut « passer (une femme) à tabac un samedi soir » , Tom Jones qui « a senti le couteau dans (sa) main et elle a arrêté de rire » et les Misfits qui menacent « si tu ne fermes pas ta gueule, tu vas mordre la poussière. »

Pas mieux quand on sonde les classiques de la chanson française, truffés de misogynie. Parmi eux, feu Michel Delpech : « Que c’est bon de choisir une minette. Dans ces filles à vedette qui ne sont venues que pour ça. C’est bon de serrer dans ses bras une groupie, une groupie. (…) C’est un joli parasite qui s’accroche et que l’on quitte. Quand on en connaît un meilleur, ça ne reste pas dans le cœur. »

Julien Clerc et sa bonne couche de colonialisme fétide : « Sous la soie de sa jupe fendue en zoom en gros plan, tout un tas d’individus filment noirs et blancs. Mélissa, métisse d’Ibiza, a des seins tous pointus. »

Très sombre non ??

Au final, cela reste difficile de répondre formellement à la question, l’article sert un peu à se rassurer. Tout n’est pas à jeter dans le hip-hop, certains artistes hyper misogyynes jouent peut-être un rôle, d’autres le sont sans doute vraiment, mais il y a aussi des signes d’évolution, et c’est sur cela qu’il faut se concentrer.

3 - Hip-Hop et empowerment

“L’empowerment est un processus ou une approche qui vise à permettre aux individus, aux communautés, aux organisations d’avoir plus de pouvoir d’action et de décision, plus d’influence sur leur environnement et leur vie.”

Comment cela se manifeste-t-il dans le hip-hop féminin ?

Dans le hip-hop en général, on peut observer une multitude de courants musicaux. Du hip-hop old school à l’instru jazzy et aux proses soignées et méticuleuses, jusqu’à à la trap; aux textes décharnés et aux refrains répétitifs, mais dont les beats pourraient faire se lever un tétraplégique unijambiste.

Cette diversité de courants musicaux fait du hip hop un outil pertinent pour une parole féministe libre et engagée.

Comment ne pas commencer par citer Queen Latifah, artiste qui pose les jalons du hip-hop old school des 90’s. Elle est réputée pour avoir été la première rappeuse à s’être imposé dans les charts et à remporter un Grammy avec son puissant U.N.I.T.Y, abordant le douloureux sujet des violences conjugales. Elle continuera tout au long de sa carrière, à mettre en mots et en rythme des sujets du même ordre (plus de détails here).

Lil Kim, Missy Elliott, Eve et plus récemment Nicki Minaj, au style aussi gangsta, et aux paroles aussi vulgaires que leurs homologues masculins emboîtent le pas de la reine de Newark (Queen Latifa), en signant des albums et collaborations musclés qui les hissent au sommet.

En 1996, la protégée de Biggie Smalss : Lil Kim’, sort Hardcore : jamais un disque de rap féminin n'avait été aussi bien classé dans les charts. L’album est un véritable hymne à sa sexualité, la rappeuse use de la même rudesse que ses collègues masculins en offrant à ses auditeurs les poses lubriques et l’apparence aguicheuses qui les émoustilleraient. Mais qu'on ne s'y trompe pas, Lil' Kim garde la maîtrise absolue de sa sexualité.

L’album bien que charnel et libidineux est un hymne féministe ; incarné par la track "Not Tonight" : ode au cunnilingus. Le refrain affirmait crânement qu'elle ne voudrait pas manger de verge ce soir, mais plutôt qu'on lui dévore l'entrejambe : « The only way you seein' me is if you eatin' me. Downtown taste my love like Horace Brown ». Cette dimension hypersexuelle est, indubitablement, la grande contribution de Lil' Kim au rap, voire à la musique en général. Après elle, au-delà du seul hip-hop, il deviendrait plus commun, voire plus admis, d'entendre chez les chanteuses les pires insanités de caractère sexuel. Hardcore s’affiche, alors, comme un laissez-passer aux chanteuses, pouvant désormais proclamer fort leur droit au plaisir physique et objectiver leurs partenaires masculins, alors que cela aurait été jugé infamant autrefois.

Une décennie plus tard, Nicki Minaj ; héritière de Lil’Kim tord l’image de la bitch pour en faire une arme d’empowerment. « Si t’as un bon gros cul, secoue-le ! Ca gêne qui ? Ça ne veut pas dire que tu ne devrais pas sortir diplômée de l’université », lâchait Nicki Minaj à Rolling Stones en 2014. La rappeuse défendait alors Anaconda, son ode aux fessiers plantureux dont le clip suintant l’érotisme posait la question de son féminisme, certain(e)s lui reprochant de réduire les femmes à leurs corps ornés de strings. C’est pourtant bien un discours d’empowerment que tient Nicki Minaj, 34 ans, revendiquant fièrement ses formes XXL et sa sexualité active.

Cette hyper-vulgarité chez les artistes féminins reste encore peu établie et ‘tolérée’ : quoi qu’on dise, entendre une rappeuse parler de sa chatte dans son rap, choque beaucoup plus qu’un négro lambda se ventant de baiser toutes les bitches de son quartier.

Que les rappeuses se réapproprient l’image insultante de la bitch, ou qu’elles se positionnent en tant que voix clairement féministe dans un style plus « classique », l’important réside dans le message qu’elles veulent véhiculer : montrer qu’elles comptent, qu’elles sont fortes et qu’elles peuvent s’exprimer sur tous les sujets, y compris leur sexualité (‘’First you gotta put yo' neck into it! Ah don't stop, just do it, do it. Then, you roll your tongue from the, crack back to the front, then ya, suck it all 'til I shake and cum nigga”, My Neck My Back, Khia 2002).

Cette révolution peut passer par le rap, plus que par tout autre genre musical, car de par son côté sans détour, brut et poignant, de la multitude de possibilités qu’il offre, mais aussi son pouvoir commercial important (le rap, est aujourd’hui le genre musical le plus populaire), c’est une arme de dénonciation puissante.

Toutefois, si on ne se base que sur les chiffres, on peut déplorer le fait qu’en 2017, le constat est triste, seule Nicki Minaj représente la gente féminine dans les charts hip-hop…

Malgré cette sous-représentation dans le milieu du hip-hop, et ce doute encore émis sur la puissance et la valeur du rap féminin, des rappeuses et trappeuses émergent de plus en plus. Nombreuses d’entre elles font acte d’un travail fort et d’une authentique qualité de rédaction, de production et d’éloquence.

Ainsi, dans le mix que j’ai concocté, j’ai voulu mettre en avant les femmes qui ont compté dans la musique (que j’aime), et les prochaines queens, Princess Nokia, 070 Shake, Young MA ainsi que bien d’autres à découvrir, véritables figures de proue de ce renouveau du hip- hop féminin. Retenez bien ces trois noms, elles secouent actuellement internet, et vont bientôt vous secouer le popotin et les méninges.

La démarche d’écrire ce billet émane d’un questionnement et d’une réflexion sur la place des artistes féminins dans l’industrie musicale et dans le milieu du rap, certains de mes questionnements demeurent donc sans réelle réponse, mais je l’espère, nous permettrons d’enclencher une prise de recul et une réflexion sur la façon dont nous consommons le rap, et la musique.

Merci à Momo pour son aide précieuse.

#hiphop #feminism #cookine #empowerment #mix #playlist #soul

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beardedbarba · 7 years

Note

booker. dud. promotion. tap out.

Booker ~ List people whom you think are good and/or bad at booking matches?Can I just say whoever books the main roster for WWE? Because I’m saying whoever books the main roster for WWE.

Dud ~ Worst matches you’ve ever watched?Hmmm... worst matches? Worst how? Like, boring? If it’s boring, I’m gonna go with matches involving Brock. I’m sorry, but he bores me as a wrestler.

*Promotion ~ Your favorite wrestling promotions/companies? -OR- Your favorite wrestling shows?Promotions/Companies: WWE, New Japan (that’s all I’ve watched so far...)Shows: SmackDown Live, and that G1 Special In The USA NJ did last summer. That was good.

Tap Out ~ Your favorite submission move(s)?I am and forever will be a fan of the Anaconda Vise, Hell’s Gate, and the Lucky 13.

#wrasslin-x #le messages

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alvdaz · 7 years

Text

Sons of Gravity: Grattage en bande organisée

Episode 6.

Quelle vie mes amis, quelle vie !

Le dernier Community Goal du côté de RAHU m’a rapporté une somme avoisinant les 7M de crédits. C’est pas foufou mais le fait de l’avoir fait avec plusieurs CMDRs ayant (re)commencé à arpenter la Voie Lactée compense le moyeno dinero à récolter. En effet, depuis quelques rotations stellaires, je constate avec plaisir que des gens se lancent dans l’aventure Elite. C’est dû à un phénomène simple que nous appellerons: mise à jour. Chaque update majeure d’Elite Dangerous draine des nouveaux joueurs ayant vu la lumière et ayant cru qu’Elite était un genre de Ace Combat mais dans l’espace. Ce phénomène se modélise de la façon suivante:

L’humaniste en moi a envie de croire que ces noobs vont rester mais leurs rêves brisés serviront de pistes d'atterrissage pour les vaisseaux des vieux briscards. See you à la prochaine update, les potes !

Vous me connaissez, bien que pilotant une forteresse volante, mes canons restent avant tout une arme de dissuasion pour m’adonner au trade en toute sécurité. Je compte néanmoins parmi mes amis des gens relativement belliqueux qui au lieu d’embrasser le pouvoir plutôt pacifique de la bicrave maxée ne vivent que pour fumer autrui. Contrairement à ce que pourrait laisser penser ce qui précède , ils n’ont aucune origine maghrébine, j’en suis le premier surpris.

Bref, j’ai décidé de les accompagner dans leur mission purificatrice à RAHU, mais au préalable il me fallait trouver un vaisseau adapté. En effet dans une zone de combat, un Anaconda, aussi équipé soit-il , connaît généralement le même destin qu’un stand de t-shirts gratuits dans un de ces salons préhistoriques de type Paris Games Week ou Japan Expo.

En fait, et c’est une règle cosmique, n’importe quel vaisseau massif peut vivre des heures sombres si 3 vaisseaux même ridiculement petits se jettent ensemble sur lui. Un peu comme cette règle élémentaire qui stipule que n’importe quelle personne dans la force de l'âge peut succomber si suffisamment d’enfants de 5 ans essaient de la régler en même temps. (A priori je peux en déglinguer 52 avant de me faire swarm). Si vous avez lu les épisodes précédents vous savez que le coût du rebuy de mon vaisseau en cas de destruction est indécent. Je décide donc de me monter un esquif spécial baston et de laisser mon Anaconda au garage.

Avec le CMDR Lâm on décide donc de passer par le système DIAGUANDRI, non pas pour la vue mais parce que ce système sous la coupe de Li Yung-Rui offre 15% de réduction sur le prix catalogue de tous les vaisseaux tant qu’on ne demande pas de facture.

Oui, en 3303 les seuls vrais bons plans galactiques sont gérés par un asiatique qui n’a plaidé allégeance ni à la Fédération, ni à l’Empire, ni à l’Alliance. Frontier (FDEV) a donc émulé à la perfection la rue Montgallet. Je vous ai dit qu’Elite c'était la vraie vie.

Un vrai professionnel de la castagne se serait orienté sur un Fer De Lance (FDL), vaisseau reconnu comme LE vaisseau des Fonzie de l’espace qui soulèvent des cheerleaders cosmiques à la turbo-cafet’:

Si un jour j’en ai un je l’appelerai le “Flying Douchebag”.

Son esthétique que certains trouvent plaisante (moi non) est surtout sublimée par un hardpoint de classe 4 également appelé HUGE et rehaussé de 4 hardpoints de classe 2 (Medium). Pour résumer, le FDL, c’est 1 énorme canon et 4 canons moyens au cul desquels on a collé un cockpit et un réacteur. En gros.

Sa puissance de feu n’a d’égal que son prix de 51M Cr ce qui fait un poil cher pour un hobby, vous en conviendrez.

Je décide de porter mon choix sur une solution bien plus abordable: le Vulture:

Un design qui inspire une certaine crainte tout en évitant les chichis inutiles, le Vulture est un digne représentant de l’école du design de Core Dynamics. A moins d’1/10e du prix d’un FDL et bien que classé en taille Small, il embarque tout de même 2 hardpoints de classe 3 (Large) ce qui permet de s’amuser joyeusement, surtout quand on déboule en groupe.

Car dans Elite Dangerous, les affrontements répondent avant tout aux deux principes fondateurs édictés par Hamed Daye et Gaëlino M’Bani, professeurs-philosophes théoriciens de l'EPS, l’École de Pensée Sectorielle fondée il y a déjà plus de 1300 ans:

Principe n°1:

“UN POUR TOUS, TOUS SUR UN”

Principe n°2:

“ON TE PÈTE À PLUS DE DIX, CA SE PASSE DEVANT LA POLICE”

Inutile donc d’avoir une puissance de feu gigantesque, en zone de combat les pilotes se regroupent dans des escadrilles (“Wings”) de 4 et se focalisent sur un seul quidam hostile afin de le vaporiser de manière coordonnée avant de passer au suivant.

Je vous ai dit qu’Elite c'était la vraie vie ?

Je décide donc d’optimiser mon Vulture pour le combat. Pas de soute (osef), un FSD (moteur supra-luminique) standard parce que tout se passera dans un seul système, maxi power plant parce que l’énergie, c’est important, propulseurs grade A pour se propulser avec aisance, répartiteur d’énergie au top pour répartir avec prestance, système de survie dans le ton pour survivre avec plaisance, pas de fuel scoop parce que voir raison FSD, on vise l’É-FFI-CA-CI-TÉ. J’ajoute des shields booster et des shields cells parce que pourquoi pas (un jour je saurais comment utiliser ces trucs) puis arrive le moment de choisir les armes.

Instant Nota Bene: Dans Elite, les armes sont classées par taille (1 à 4) et grade (G à A) mais ça vous le savez déjà. En revanche, ce que vous ignorez surement c’est que le mode de visée influe aussi sur le prix et la performance des armes. On compte 3 modes:

Fixed: l’arme est fixe, c’est au pilote de viser comme un dieu au moment de tirer. C’est pas cher, ça tire fort mais ça vise pas. Seul le pénitent le passe.

Gimballed: l’arme est montée sur pivot et suit automatiquement les cibles qu’on lui assigne. C’est plus cher, ça tire moins fort mais ça vise tout seul. Le choix d’une génération.

Turret: l’arme traite automatiquement tous les adversaires de fils de pute. BLAG! L’arme cible, suit et tire seule sur la cible. Ca coûte un rein, ça tire rien mais ça fait le café. Le flingue des nantis qui n’assument pas de tirer sur autrui.

Illustrons avec un cas concret: pour un canon à fragmentation 3C (= un fusil à pompe de l’espace), les prix varient du simple au quintuple:

Fixed: 1,1M Cr

Gimballed: 1,7M Cr

Turret: 5,8M Cr

Et encore, le Frag Cannon est une exception, bien souvent les armes Turret sont proposées dans un grade voire une classe inférieure aux versions fixed et gimballed.

Le seul VRAI intérêt des armes Turret, c’est que ce sont les seules qui seront manipulables par les copains qui viendront s’asseoir avec vous quand le multicrew arrivera dans Elite.

Contrairement à l’Anaconda dont les 8 points d’emports permettent de panacher les armes pour obtenir une véritable farandole de saveurs digne d’un buffet asiatique-mexicain, le Vulture et ses 2 emplacements forcent à faire des choix drastiques. N’écoutant que ma volonté de tout niquer rapidement, j’opte donc pour une arme dite thermique (en gros y a du laser dedans) pour entamer efficacement les boucliers puis choisis un railgun également appelé “OH PUTAAAAAAIN” par chez nous et qui a la particularité d’être une arme à la fois thermique (efficace contre les boucliers, donc) et cinétique (efficace contre les carlingues, une fois que le bouclier est un souvenir).

Je suis chaud, j’ai pas le temps, j’équipe et boum, on part en mission.

L’objectif à RAHU était d’aller fumer des types random dans une “Conflict Zone” moyennant paiement. Bon y avait une vraie raison historique mais j’ai pas lu les petites lignes. Dans Elite, les Conflict Zones sont des endroits où tout le monde se fout sur la gueule. Mais attention, c’est pas du FFA pour autant. Quand on arrive, on doit choisir entre 2 factions. Quand c’est fait, tous les contacts sur le scanner passent instantanément en vert (alliés) et rouge (ennemis) et le fun débute. On se coordonne ensuite avec ses wingmen pour se trouver un target à occire et ensuite c’est la fiesta completa.

Nous arrivâmes donc relativement confiants dans la zone avec mes Commanderos Suros et sommes repartis en rampant pendant que des gens continuaient à nous jeter des cailloux dans le dos. Vous avez un aperçu d’une fuite totale dans la vidéo ci-dessous:

https://clips.twitch.tv/HeadstrongSoftAardvarkArgieB8

Évidemment, plusieurs facteurs à prendre en ligne de compte. En ce qui me concerne, un excès de confiance certain, on va pas se mentir. J’ai pris la meilleur Power Plant (4A) pour mon Vulture, et je n’ai pas DU TOUT pensé à la conso de l’équipement. Dans le milieu on appelle ça une “John Hammond”: comme j’ai raqué, c’était obligé de marcher. Hélas, hélas, hélas (3x hélas), tout comme John l’a appris à ses dépends: la vie (donc les emmerdes) trouve toujours un chemin.

Du coup, dès que j’ai dégainé et tiré au laser beam ET au railgun avec tous les systèmes activés, le vaisseau s’est éteint, à peu près. J’ai passé les ¾ du temps restant à flipper autant des contacts sur le scanner que de la courbe de consommation électrique de mon machin, le tout en essayant de scorer des kills histoire de pas être venu pour rien.

Le CG de RAHU s’est terminé le lendemain, donc avec à la clé 7 millions pour moi et une belle leçon de vie:

Le combat, c’est pas mon dada.

J’étais donc joyeusement reparti dans mes routes de bicravos romantique en écoutant du Chico Buarque quand Lâm m’a à nouveau contacté:

- PFOUYAYA, du côté de QUINCE, y’a des missions massacres, là pfouuuuuu je te dis pas !

- Ouais mais nan, ça m’intéresse pas des masses, le combat.

- C’est dommage vraiment c’est fun, et en wing, la marrade !

- Oui mais moi je bicrave, tmtc bb, je cours derrière la naie-mo, comme le capitaine

- OK d’accord mais là je viens de faire 60M en 2 heures et j..

- Tu bouges pas, j’arrive.

Dans la vie, on a beau avoir des principes moraux en béton, ils sont parfois bien faibles face au marteau-piqueur des opportunité$ qu€ £a vie nous a₱₱o₹₮€.

QUINCE donc, est le théâtre d’un des -si nombreux- exploits (de “exploitation”, hein pas question de prouesse ici) dont la Galaxie recèle. En effet régulièrement dans Elite, il existe des endroits où des fripons réussissent à amasser masse thune en exploitant des “bugs”. Tellement d’ailleurs que personnellement je soupçonne FDEV de faire exprès de les installer quelque part puis de tuyauter WikiLeaks pour que l’info sorte dans la presse. Ces exploits durent assez longtemps et finissent par être patchés, non pas pour disparaître, mais pour devenir “un peu moins abusés, quoi”. Prenez l’empilage de missions du désormais célèbrissime Robigo Run par exemple (j’en parlais dans l’épisode 2). Au lieu de supprimer purement et simplement ces missions, voir tout le système Robigo, FDEV a -juste- changé la quantité de marchandise à transporter pour chaque mission. De 3T on passait à 30. Du coup de 15 missions, on passait à 3. Du côté de QUINCE cette fois, la filouterie porte sur les missions de combat (“Merci d’oblitérer n vaisseaux ennemis en échange de $$$”). L’empilage de missions ressemble à s’y méprendre à la méthode des Robigo Runs: on alterne tous les modes de jeu (open, privé, solo) pour forcer le rafraîchissement du Mission Board et prendre les plus juteuses. A force de rendre service, on améliore notre alignement avec la faction commanditaire et à terme les missions commencent à chiffrer. Tant et si bien qu’on se retrouve à empiler une quinzaine de missions à 9 ou 10 millions chacune. Je vous laisse faire le calcul. Le truc marrant (ou complètement gogol), et pièce centrale de l’exploit en question, c’est que l’empilage de missions n’empile pas le nombre de vaisseaux à tuer. Si vous prenez 10 missions demandant de supprimer 5 vaisseaux, toutes vos missions sont validées au 5eme vaisseau abattu.

C’est idiot mais ça fonctionne. A force, on peut se retrouver avec des missions demandant de buter 96 vaisseaux. Ca semble élevé mais en wing de 4 et en enchaînant les petits adversaires, ça va relativement vite. Genre en 2 ou 3 heures, c’est plié. 100M de Cr en 3h, même si t’aimes pas, tu prends.

On me briefe sur le truc, je me mets immédiatement en route. J’étais à AGARTHA, mon système de résidence. QUINCE est à 600 aL de là. 600 aL avec un vaisseau qui jumpe à 20 aL max par saut, ça peut être long. Et on m’a prévenu:

“Viens avec ton matos parce que là-bas, y a RIEN.”

Merde. Je décide donc de repasser par la Rue Montgallet de DIAGUANDRI. En partant d’AGARTHA, la distance est de 120 aL environ. Quand même.

Arrivé là-bas, je me monte un nouveau Vulture (je vends celui que j’avais ramené de RAHU, c’est plus simple). Je maxe tout mais cette fois, j’équipe un Beam Laser et un multicanon, pas de railgun ou de shield cells ou d’autres trucs de Las Vegas, j’ai compris la leçon, merci.

Ensuite, je me monte un Asp spécial voyage. Un modèle spartiate avec rien dedans. Pas de soute, pas de couchette, pas de Nespresso, juste un gros FSD, un fuel scoop et c’est tout. La bête saute à 29 aL par jump. Je laisse l’Anaconda et le Vulture sur place et me mets en route.

DIAGUANDRI - QUINCE, ça fait 649 aL, même en Asp qui saute loin, c’est:

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG

23 sauts plus tard, j’arrive à QUINCE dans mon Asp. Je fonce vers Millerport et je transfère mon Vulture. Le système me dit que mon vaisseau sera là 1h45 plus tard. Je déco pour la soirée et prévoit de revenir le lendemain soir pour jouter avec les potes.

Elite c’est vraiment comme la vraie vie: pour profiter des choses, il faut savoir attendre.

#sog #elite dangerous

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