RP: 4th Fleet (NSN) [Mission 5 Side Story] Preparing for the Storm

"Thanks for the advice. Hopefully I won't have to worry about them since I'm transferring to 4th Fleet. My brother's there."

The congenial Marine, one Matthias Greer, was a medic and following in his family's tradition of the medical profession. I'm guessing since you got your gear, you're also transferring? You look a lot like this one crazy girl that Bern was telling me about. Got a relative on 4th Fleet?" he continued the conversation. Matthias spoke in a friendly, unguarded manner as if he had nothing to hide.

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Butch, with his bulky, muscled physique, advanced with all the deadly intent of a veteran ringfighter. Each step was perfectly distanced to ensure he had the best balance at all times. His fists were raised but not so much as to block his field of vision while being able to counter a punch. Suddenly, Butch was in Sergei's face. Or more precisely, his fist had connected with Sergei's jaw in a violently swift uppercut. "Mind this!" the antagonistic ID-SOL bellowed triumphantly as he watched Sergei fall backwards, arms splayed out. The datajockey which held BEL skittered along the floor.

"Real men talk with their fists!" Butch roared aloud, like a battlecry. "Bring it, greenie!"

"Butch may not be the smartest of us but he does have a lot of brains when it comes to fighting. And it helps that he's a pure ID-SOL, built like a tank. Keeps in shape by wrestling with a Hostile," Ben commented to Francis as he watched Butch floor Sergei. Then he noticed the datajockey that had come to a stop nearby. He walked over to pick and up before going back to Francis. "Let's take a look, shall we?" he said, keying a search command for everything that contained the word "the" on the datajockey.

As Francis listened to Ben describe Butch's training regimen, he decided that avoiding a fight with the ID-SOL pugilist was a top priority. Francis was by no means a weakling, but he realized that it would be no contest. He didn't like the fact that Butch could push around whoever he wanted, and he felt sorry for Sergei, but Francis wasn't going to try and intervene unless it things got way out of hand. "Not cowardice, practicality," he thought to himself.

When Ben reached down to retireve Sergei's datajockey, Francis moved in closer to see what the search that Ben keyed in would yield. "Go for it," he replied.

"Ain't got a family." Ice said coldly. Maybe a bit more coldly than it deserved as a question, but that was old territory for her. Old, heavily mined territory that she didn't like going back to. She was going to continue when the low level commotion in the locker room intensified.

"Ahh, shit." Ice said at the sound like someone tossing a side of meat onto a concrete floor rang out from the locker room. She shucked her gear outside the door, just leaving the array of blades and small arms hanging on her belt. Almost faster than Greer could notice, the battered old knife that hung under her hand disappeared from its' sheath. A casual observer wouldn't notice it, as Ice held it with the whole of the grip in her palm leaving just a barely visible sliver of transparent crystal poking between her index and middle finger. She didn't seem consciously aware that she was holding a knife, but she moved with a cautious fighter's stance towards the locker room. "Hey, you're headed 4th-ward too? Well it sounds like it's time to scrape one of our comrades off the deck."

"Woah woah woah, put that knife away. Don't you know anything about Marine brawls? When two or more Marines fight, you don't bring more than what everyone else has. You don't draw a weapon on another Marine," Markus was saying as he followed Ice back, still hauling his stuff.

As he watched, he laughed. "Oh, nothing to worry about. They're just using fists. Two ID-SOLs going at each other is normal. There's always a few who want to fight. It's in their natural psychology; the desire for combat is simply greater in some. It's perfectly normal for them use to use this as a release. I've seen cases where the desire to fight but no outlet for it has led some ID-SOLs to beat and rape women. So, this is infinitely better. Plus, since both are ID-SOLs, it's a fair fight. One or two hits shouldn't take either of them down."

Ice glanced down at the knife in her hand with something like surprise, and slid it back into it's sheath with a mutter of something that sounded like 'reflexes'. Her face grew icy at Markus' observation. She preferred to avoid a fight, but that other ID-SOL looked like he was fresh out of high school, while the other was a clear vet. It was like watching someone beat a dog in the street. "Yeah, I've seen that too. Didja just stand aside and let him work it out then too?"

"Besides, I hate fair fights." She added, dropping her equipment. She slid into a nep-fu ready stance. ID-SOLs hit like freight trains, but they moved like them too. Between the streets and basic, it wouldn't be the first time she'd tangled with an ID-SOL "Hey! Big, dumb and ugly! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

Markus glanced at the woman who advanced into the fight. Clearly had a chip on her shoulder about something. One particular case of beating and rape had when he had just been officially adopted by the Greers. The woman had been rushed into the clinic by a couple men who'd found her. Immediately, the husband-wife team got to work on her while the then-two medically trained sons got to work on the regular patients. Due to the fact that it was only a family run thing without many outside employees, Markus was forced into the ER/OR (same room in the old clinic) to help pass them tools. But he didn't know what any of them were called so his mistakes resulted in a longer operation than normal. The whole experience had left him feeling helpless and guilty for the patient.

So maybe he had stood aside in the Operating Room but what else could he have done then? He was just a street urchin back then. The larger ID-SOL was clearly not pulling his punches against the smaller hybrid. If he did the same to Ice... was it in his medical creed to prevent and treat injury or just treat it?

Ben Linzer realized the danger and acted whilst Markus debated his adopted creed internally. He dropped the datajockey and advanced with a loud crunch underneath his boot. Unlike the younger Butch, he wasn't a vat-bred pure ID-SOL whose sole purpose and upbringing was to visit violence upon everything he was directed towards. Butch, Linzer knew, was going slow because it was his way of taunting the opponent. With his muscled physique and extreme endurance, Butch could put out bursts of speed when he wanted to. The man had a fairly good thrust-to-mass ratio.

Within moments, he was past the two brawlers and face to face with Ice. "Hey, small, dumb, and flat. You wanna die? Not very nice interrupting two men having a good, ol' fashioned fist-fight." He dropped into a fighting stance.

Markus, meanwhile, had strolled over to Francis and noticed the crushed datajockey. "This happen a lot?" he asked.

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Butch was enjoying this. It was nice to have someone whom he could throw his full weight against. Sergei had scrambled to his feet and put up a decent guard. But Butch was on the offensive. He threw heavy punches to force Sergei's guard to cover his face. With the opponent's field of vision restricted, Butch slammed a hard kick onto Sergei's thigh which knocked the hybrid over. While Butch wasn't holding back of his strength, he also wasn't looking to cripple and maim Sergei. Otherwise, the shot would have been to the knee.

Francis noticed Markus strolling over his way and was relieved. He was glad that there was someone else in this mess that didnt want to fight. He looked over the young Greer, and became fairly certain of his assumption.

"I have no idea how often this happens. I'm actually new to this whole Marine thing," replied Francis. "I'm Francis Lasalle by the way," he said in a friendly tone.

"Ain't a fist fight, just a prick too lazy to find a heavy bag. An' I ain't fond of folks that look for somethin' to hit 'cause they can't put their dick in somethin'." Ice said, studying the half blood ID-SOL in front of her. He wouldn't hit as hard as Butch, but he'd wasn't saddled with as much of that awkward muscle mass so he'd move faster. That... was probably worse for her, all things considered.

Then she struck like a coiled snake, without showing the sort warning body language that earned you a kick to the head. She'd had that particular tendency beaten out of her years ago. She fainted upward with her first strike, appearing to go for Linzer's stomach, before shifting her blow downward to a sharp one-two blow to his balls. That'd be enough to keep him distracted as she sidestepped into a roundhouse kick to the back of his kneecap.

Sergei heard the crunch when his 'Jockey was crushed underfoot, but put it to the back of his mind, he would just salvage his hard drive later when he wasn't in imminent danger. While he was distracted Butch managed to land a kick to his thigh and he fell hard. "Son of a bitch!"

He hopped back up quickly, turning to a looser guard that afforded him more mobility. He realized his first mistake had been keeping his guard in one place. Instead of simply protecting his face he needed to dodge and parry, stay mobile. "Bring it!" He shouted, and decided to go on the offensive. He spun to the right and threw a hard punch to the left side of the jaw. He then sought to deliver a flurry of blows to Butch's rib cage. He planned to follow that up with a bone-shattering knee to his abdomen, and a powerful elbow to the back of his left shoulder, in the hopes that it would numb the arm and put it out of commission.

GM Intervention
Post has been edited to remove the result of melee combat. Game Masters, not players, decide the results of ALL attacks.

"Markus Greer. Had a brother in 4th Fleet, seems he got attached to another Fleet for some job or another. Temporary, supposed to be coming back after a couple runs with them," Markus replied conversationally with an easy smile. In the back of his mind, he examined his companion with a medical eye.

ID-SOL, hybrid. Cybernetics. Cheap cybernetics. Not military grade, not crap. It meant that someone had shelled out a decent amount of DA to get him patched up. Which also meant he ran afoul of something or someone. Gangs were probable. Either he was in one or just wrong place, wrong time.

Not jumping into the brawl with the rest of the meatheads. Meant that he was able to control his violent urges. Self-control was key to being an ID-SOL since they operated on superhuman levels. A hard punch from them could, in theory, kill a Nepleslian with a single, well placed hit.

It was an interesting mix. "Between them," he pointed to Butch and Sergei, "I say the big guy will win. His physique is simply built better to withstand physical punishment more than the hybrid's. And he has real combat experience, which means that everything else being equal, the advantage still lies with him. His mind is already wired to kill efficiently and brutally. The other guy, he's just flailing about. No discipline. Throwing out more attacks doesn't make the fight yours since he hasn't gotten any good hits in. I mean, who punches the least fleshy, most bony part of the body?"

He was right. The first punch from Sergei was avoided by Butch as he tilted his head as the fist went past and over him. Butch took a small step back, absorbing the weak blows to the chest. After the failed knee attempt, Butch grinned sadistically. It was too easy. He was the toughest fighter, no the best killer, in Hardman's Hammers. He had fought and killed NMX Nekos barehanded. This greenie didn't even rate up to those retarded NMX pussycats, let alone the trained Star Army killer kittens.

Butch, taller than Sergei, had reach. So much more reach. The fact that he had even let those punches connect meant that it was by design. He wanted Sergei to advance. He wanted his opponent closer. Markus watched the trap snap shut. With a single motion, Butch drove a hard left fist into Sergei's solar plexus, knocking the smaller ID-SOL backwards. Markus observed how Butch's arm had remained in an L-shaped 90 degree position. It meant that his entire body was in the forward motion, thus greater mass and kinetic force on impact. Sergei dropped to a knee, heaving as his body registered the blunt force trauma.

"Oh that was good. Not great. Get better, greenie. Cos there's always gonna be someone better than you waiting to kill you." Butch started walking over to watch Linzer's match.

Markus turned to Ice and Linzer. "That's not even a contest. He's just playing her. All she might have on him is speed."

"It's Boomer's win. If it's a speed match, Boomer wins. His punches are pathetic for an ID-SOL but I can barely keep track of them. They are fast." Markus noticed how the victorious ID-SOL had wandered over to join them and provided his own commentary on his squadmate. The medic returned his attention to the fight.

None of Ice's strikes connected. Her reach fell extremely short of Linzer, who simply stepped backwards. He led Ice on a sort of dance, she would advance, he would back away, sidestep, and once twirled around her by grabbing her arm and using it to propel himself past her.

"Remember, tiny and flat, I could have just thrown you when I did that. You cannot beat me," Linzer smiled with a flash of arrogance. Markus noticed the confidence and self-assurance in both the body language and verbal remarks. Linzer was toying, just like Butch. The man's motions in this fight were smooth and fluid like water.

She was 5'2". He was 7'6". If Butch was right, that Ben "Boomer" Linzer was faster than he showed off, Markus saw nothing in Ice's advantage. Unless she had some dirty street trick up her sleeve.

Francis was relieved by how friendly Markus seemed to be. He felt like the young Greer had nothing to hide, and it let Francis drop his guard, just a little. He noticed that Markus was studying him, and chose not to interrupt the analysis. What harm could that do? It didn't seem to Francis that Markus would do anything with the information except store it away for later.

Francis listened to Markus dissect the combat unfolding before him, and was impressed. Obviously the young man had a background in medicine and biology. He was probably a medic. Francis agreed with everything Markus said. It all made perfect sense. "You know your stuff, I'll give you that," said Francis. "I don't see any chance for the poor guy. Butch had him beat right out of the gate."

It wasn't a surprise when Sergei slumped over from Butch's onslaught. Then he shifted his focus to Ice and Ben's fight. Francis recognized this fight might be a little closer than the one that had just ended. Both combatants appeared to be familiar with brawling, for a start. Francis was very surprised when Butch added in his thoughts. He hadn't heard the huge ID-SOL come up, and he was confused as to how a body the size of Butch could move quietly. "Yeah, I'd have to give this one to Ben. Too much of a size difference," replied Francis.

Sergei held his hand on his abdomen, trying not to hurl up his lunch. He struggled to sit himself up against a nearby ammo crate, and sat there, thinking about his own stupidity.

He smiled to himself, "It certainly could've gone a lot worse..."

That hadn't been some schoolyard fight! That Butch character was a stone cold killer, and had he wanted to, he would've crushed Sergei's skull like an over-ripe tomato. He had not been ready for this in the slightest, Butch had had reach, strength, speed, everything was on his side. He should've known to fold it in.

He cringed a little as another wave of pain washed over him, reminding himself of his own stupidity, "Yeah well, I've never really known when to quit now have I?..."

He needed to work on that, but now was not the time. He had much more pressing matters to attend to, like the replacement of his 'Jockey. It had gotten crushed in the chaos, and hopefully, the hard drive was still intact, as that would save him hours of tweaking. Otherwise, he would need to download his entire mainframe back home back onto his DataJockey, then he would have to recalibrate everything to fit the parameters of the new 'Jockey. It would take a couple of days at least, and that was only if he devoted his entire next few days to fixing it. With his duties as a marine, however, it would take him at least a week, if not more!

He figured that the best thing to do right now would be to at least get a start on it as quickly as he could. So he waited for a minute, letting himself catch a few breaths, before struggling to his feet.

He gathered his composure as best he could and, grinning like an idiot, he stumbled his way over to the back of the small group that had gathered around the other fight, waiting for a good moment to collect the remains of his 'Jockey. He ran his hands through his hair, thinking, "This, is definitely going to suck..."

Ice was getting irritated. "So you'll beat me in a fair fight. Just means I gotta fight dirty." If she hadn't been limited to just her fists, Linzer would be in a puddle in front of her right now. But of course she wasn't allowed to cut up fellow Marines. But she wasn't going to lose to the smug prick. You back down once and then they think that they can walk all over you.

A quick glance around showed her that she didn't have much to work with. Back on the streets there was always some piece of debris, human or physical, that she could use to get the upper hand. Here it was military orderly, two fist fights not withstanding. But then a flash of safety red caught her eye. Just perfect.

Dancing back from Linzer, Ice turned, grabbed and then threw the fire extinguisher at the bigger man's chest. Discharging it might have been more effective, but that would have been too slow and was the sort of thing they'd spent a long time in their ship safety session telling them not to do. However, a weighty piece of metal wasn't something that you'd just let bounce off your skull. Unless Linzer was secretly as dense as depleted uranium, which with an ID-SOL wasn't exactly out of the realm of possibility.

But just to be on the safe side, as she followed the extinguisher she pulled her trusty knife, sheath and all, from her belt and threw it neatly at Linzer's head. If the extinguisher didn't distract him, the apparent blade moving at his face definitely would. Following them in, Ice went for a Marine issue snap-kick to Linzer's balls. Man's greatest design flaw, no reason not to exploit it.

Linzer didn't even block. The moment the extinguisher left Ice's hand, the ID-SOL was rolling out of its path. He had no obstacles in his path and he wasn't stupid enough to take hits for no reason. Why take damage when he had the ability to avoid it altogether? Butch may have wanted to take it, to prove his toughness to everyone, but

The extinguisher crashed harmlessly against the deck with a loud, metallic clang. Linzer rose, propelling himself up with a knee. Almost immediately, the sheathed knife was in his face. There was no time to dodge. And it was only a small knife, sheathed or not. That was damage Linzer could easily take and not be bothered by it.

He stopped it with his arm, swatting aside the weapon, and let it clatter loudly on the floor. Linzer even watched as Ice advanced. Her kick was fast. But he was the speed demon, "Boomer" they called him for all the times he had used the old AIRs. Now it was because of all the explosions he caused. But he was still the fastest.

Using the upward momentum from his knee, Linzer changed from rising to his feet to launching himself at Ice. He'd still take the hit but it wouldn't be incapacitating. It would, in fact, work in his favor. If she was faster, she'd have had him. If she was faster than a man loved breaking the sound barrier because he could.

He felt the sharp, wincing pain but he was a soldier, an Ideal Soldier. His manhood was tougher than any flat-chested woman's knee! The pride of all ID-SOLs demanded he finish the fight.

That was when Linzer, eyes burning with a blood rage, crashed into Ice and started choking her. The two toppled onto the floor, rolling.

Butch was the first to react. He could see his squadmate change his fighting body language. It had become more uncontrolled, and Butch knew that if Linzer continued, someone would need hospitalization.

He sprang forward to knock Linzer off Ice, tearing at the smaller ID-SOL's hands. "Boomer! Boomer, you idiot!" Butch hauled the struggling ID-SOL off Ice. Matthias was right behind, silent and serious, and knelt beside the flustered, gasping Geshrin woman.

"Just breathe. Don't talk," were the only instructions from the medic.

Butch and Boomer had started their own brawl to get the hybrid to calm down and get the anger out.

Francis watched as the fight escalated quickly. At first it had been a simple fistfight, but as soon as the Geshrin woman started to throw things at Ben, he knew that all bets are off. As Ben began to choke her, Francis was about to step in and help, but Butch beat him to it. Not that Francis minded at all.

After Butch and Ben went off to have their brawl, Francis rushed over to where Markus was kneeling over the Geshrin woman. He wanted to help, but he had absolutely no idea where to begin. Instead, he chose to help Matthias, who Francis now easily recognized as a medic. "What do you need me to do?" he asked Matthias.

Ice had her HHG free of it's holster by the time that they pulled Linzer off of her. She didn't know if the vice like grip would win out before she shot the fucker. But if she was going to go out like this, she'd wasn't going out alone. But then, the vices broke and she was able to suck down air like... someone that had almost been choked to death. There was an uncomfortably familiar sensation.

Ice crawled back from the ID-SOL, keeping her handgun at the ready. She could barely hear Greer over the pounding in her ears of the blood returning. But even if she could have heard him clearly, she couldn't talk beyond gasping for breath. She looked around wildly for a moment, her eyes finally setting on the sheathed knife lying on the floor near her book.

She hooked the knife with the heel of her boot and shot it up to her free hand. She clutched it lightly as he breath began to slowly return, glaring bloody murder at Linzer.

The grunts could still be heard as the two Id-Sols fought it off. Linzer seemed to get quite angry and Butch just enjoyed himself. It was not sure whether Butch is serious in this fight or not though. The two bodies locked together in bear like hug they were tossing about. Butch had advantage there, but Linzer knew how to wrestle. They hit the lockers, which made the sound of metallic thunder.

Sgt. Hardman then came, he looked at Francis and Matthias. "Get that rabid bitch out of here and take her gun away before she hurts someone." He said, obviously quite angry. He then stomped off to stop his two comrades from destroying the room.

Matthias did not try to take the gun of Ice's hand, afraid she might shoot. She only softly took her hand and aimed it to ceiling. "Shhh it is okay now, it stopped!" He said, his other hand softly resting on the Ice's shoulder trying to calm her down.

"She just needs to calm down!" He said to the Francis. "She got almost strangled." He explained. He surely knew that the girl was full of adrenaline. "Try checking that guys who got beaten," Matthias then said to Francis. No use of both of them trying to calm Ice.

"Got it," he replied crisply to Matthias. Francis walked over to where Sergei was standing. From a first glance, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with the ID-SOL, he'd only been roughed up a bit. Well, more than just a bit, but he looked OK. However, Francis decided to ask how Sergei was feeling, just to be on the safe side.

"Hey man, how are you holdin' up?" he inquired.

Matthias returned his attention to the woman. He glared at her. "Put. The. Gun. Down." He spoke sternly, like a parent berating a child. If she didn't do it within the next few seconds, Matthias began analyzing the best ways to incapacitate her and prevent the situation from turning ballistic.

Marines pointing guns at each other. This was giving young Matthias a bad impression of the woman, Ice Plainsview. Little did he know that his own brother had once pulled a gun on another Marine. The circumstances had been different but he would certainly have taken issue with the principle behind pulling the gun out.

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"Linzer! Control yourself, you goddam pansy, or I will let Tora cut your balls off! Butch, drag him back to the squad bay," Hardman growled loudly. "The girls are gonna have a goddam field day," he added darkly.

"Whatever you say, Brick," Butch complied by socking Linzer hard across the face. The smaller hybrid went limp. "Thick blockhead," his squadmate commented, shaking his fist as he hefted the unconscious hybrid over his shoulder.

Matthias saw that last one. His medical mind revolted at the method that Butch had employed. All of him, however, marveled at the ID-SOL physiology that had meant the difference between life and death for a Nepleslian. And that's why you don't mess with ID-SOLs. he noted as he watched the trio march off, Butch apparently not at all bothered by Linzer's mass.

"Put the flaming gun down, now!"